The Lady You Want to Kill

Lady Natalia of Fildrof delicately narrowed her eyes. She noticed that Beatrice’s appearance was not solely due to the commotion but rather because of Priscilla Richard. Natalia briefly scanned Beatrice with her gaze.

Although it was the first time she had seen her face, Beatrice’s dress, exquisite accessories, and makeup showed no signs of ordinariness. Natalia couldn’t be sure of her exact age, but she seemed to have just finished her debutante ball. Based on the fact that Natalia didn’t recall her, she guessed Beatrice must come from a wealthy but unremarkable family, seemingly ignorant of high society in the capital.

“I understand that the young lady’s courageous remark might not make sense to you. However, there is a law that distinguishes those who should be defended and those who should not.”

Natalia stopped scanning Beatrice’s dress and belatedly met her eyes. At that moment, she froze as she encountered a dry gaze without a hint of anger or embarrassment, as if looking at an object. Her brow naturally furrowed.

This aristocratic lady was someone she had never seen before anywhere. She was certain of that. With such an appearance, there was no way she wouldn’t remember seeing her even once.

“Which family are you from?” 

As soon as those words left Natalia’s mouth, something vaguely came to her mind. She didn’t recognize her face at all, but those golden eyes…

“I have no desire to introduce myself,” came the dry response. The other ladies couldn’t bear it any longer and once again exclaimed that Beatrice was being impolite.

Beatrice turned her head abruptly, and her white eyes met Natalia’s gaze. Priscilla Richard, who had been focused on her book, raised her head and blatantly stared at Beatrice.

“Which family are you from?” 

“Well, you see, it’s because of the education she received from her family that she behaves so rudely!” 

While the two young ladies were arguing, Natalia Fildrof was lost in her thoughts. Golden eyes — the color known to all citizens of the Empire, which could appear as a pale yellow in dim lighting.

However, she couldn’t apply it to the woman in front of her. Because that just couldn’t be true. A lady from the Amber Duchy would only be the duchess, and her thoughts abruptly stopped.

Natalia raised her hand and silenced the two young ladies who had been bickering all this time. It was indeed possible. A lady of similar age to herself in the Amber Duchy, a bastard, and hardly ever seen outside… She had almost forgotten.

“Just now, you went too far with your words. Lady Cordelia Elamos. Lady Caroline Dilhert. You must not casually ask what family they’re from,” Natalia calmly intervened, trying to prevent any further heated discussions. She put on a smiling face, hoping to help them understand the situation before they said anything regrettable.

“I will apologize for what I said just now. May I ask which family you’re from? I have a somewhat guess, but I find it hard to believe.” 

“What? You have a guess? Do you happen to know who that rude woman is?” 

“A little bit. But it’s quite surprising. The fact that such a person exists in that splendid family.” 

“Which family is she from, exactly?” 

Their conversation continued like a rehearsed play, and Beatrice grew bored. She heard Laura’s footsteps from behind but didn’t bother turning around. Instead, she focused on Lady Richard, who was still observing her.

She considered how to react in a way that would leave a lasting impression, but ultimately decided to stick to what she had learned. She imitated Floria’s smile, widening her white eyes slightly as if in surprise. Just then, a knocking sound echoed in the waiting room.

“Lady Amber, the Duchess, has arrived.”

“I will leave,” Beatrice said, rising from the sofa.

Natalia, who had anticipated that Lady Amber was her mother, showed no particular reaction, but the two young ladies who had just learned Beatrice’s family couldn’t hide their astonishment. Priscilla Richard, whether she already knew or was simply unfazed, nonchalantly lowered her gaze back to her brochure.

“See you next time,” Beatrice bid farewell lightly, gracefully holding the edge of her dress as she exited the waiting room. Among the three women who reacted to her greeting, the one addressed by Beatrice was Priscilla Richard. With the other matters resolved, she could now relax and not worry about any further confrontations.

Behind Beatrice, Laura followed closely, knowing she would report everything that happened in the waiting room to the Duchess. Whatever resolution it may be, Lady Amber would handle it. Natalia Fildrof had acted smartly, but she couldn’t have anticipated how Beatrice’s behavior had suddenly changed recently.

As they walked out of the waiting room, they spotted Agatha, the seamstress, diligently fluffing and adjusting the gown at her side. Malédvie, the dress shop they were in, was mainly favored by young ladies, while there was a separate renowned dressmaker for noble ladies like Agatha.

When the owner and main designer of Malédvie, Valet, received the reservation under Lady Amber’s name, she was a bit surprised. She had never expected the Duchess to make a reservation at her dress shop, as her main focus was on designs for young ladies. However, along with concern, there was also an expectation that she could create a connection with the Duchess.

Although Malédvie was currently rated as the best dress shop among noble young ladies, it was often considered lightweight in comparison to the dress shop favored by noble ladies due to its main clientele being young ladies.

During this time, Valet pondered whether providing Lady Amber with some solid and elegant dresses would further enhance her reputation. As she looked at Lady Amber’s name on the reservation, another name caught her eye.

Beatrice Amber. Valet squinted for a moment, realizing that she must be a member of the ducal family. After contemplating for a while, a thought struck her.

The youngest daughter of Lady Amber, who was known to never step outside the family’s estate. Valet was familiar with the rumors surrounding Lady Amber’s reclusive youngest daughter, so the name was unmistakable. But why? Being in the dressmaking business, Valet was attuned to various rumors.

She knew a bit about the reclusive youngest daughter of Lady Amber, who never ventured outside the family estate. Lost in her thoughts, Valet soon shook her head to clear her mind.

Deciding it would be better not to dwell on her thoughts too much, as she might accidentally say something inappropriate in front of Lady Amber, the question still lingered in a corner of her mind. Could it be that the time has come for the youngest daughter, who is rumored to be a recluse, to make her social debut? Lady Amber, who was not known for being a strict person, might have decided to arrange her debut in high society.

“I was too late. Beatrice, come here,” Lady Amber warmly called out to her youngest daughter when their eyes met.

“Were you not bored?” She asked affectionately.

“I also arrived not long ago,” Beatrice responded.

“Well, that’s fortunate. Madam, I’d like to have my daughter’s debutante dress fitted,” Agatha said to Valet.

“Yes, Lady Amber. First, please choose a design, and then we’ll take the measurements,” Valet replied with a gentle smile, leading them to a private sofa. They had to select everything from the neckline to the sleeves and the lace that would adorn the dress. Several books with designs and bundles of fabrics were brought by the staff.

Agatha opened one of the books, which contained the latest trends in dresses. Nowadays, dresses with narrow necklines and exposed shoulders were in vogue, and Agatha thought they didn’t look bad at all.

Her daughter always shied away from exposing too much skin and preferred dresses that covered not only her neck and shoulders but also her wrists. Agatha considered that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to give her a dress with a more daring style this time.

“Darling, how about this one?” Agatha pointed to a design with exposed shoulders and adorned with lace. As Beatrice stared at it silently, she tilted her head slightly instead of nodding.

“You don’t like it?” Agatha asked, her smile freezing slightly.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, but I have a scar near my neck,” Beatrice replied calmly.

Agatha’s smiling face stiffened, realizing she hadn’t noticed the scar before. She hadn’t even bathed with her daughter recently. Agatha reproached herself silently for not being more attentive to her daughter’s well-being.

Beatrice’s scar brought anger to Agatha’s heart, thinking about how she hadn’t protected her daughter from such harm. She considered that it wasn’t enough to simply dismiss those staff members who had caused scars on noble young ladies. Perhaps more severe consequences should have been applied.

Beatrice, unaware of her mother’s thoughts, continued to look down at the dress designs with little interest. To her, all the designs seemed more or less the same. It was beyond her judgment to determine which one would suit her better, whether she covered more or showed more of her body. She could identify trends from her long life, but that was about it.

Focused on the dresses, she didn’t notice Agatha’s trembling anger disguised beneath her smile, nor did she realize that Valet was fidgeting and keeping a close eye on her.

In truth, the scar on Beatrice’s neck was not something acquired from the servants, but Agatha had no way of knowing that. Beatrice’s body was far from fragile enough to be injured by mere needles or glass shards.

Around the age of fifteen, Beatrice’s body had nearly reached its full development. Even if someone intentionally tried to prick her with a needle, it wouldn’t have made any difference.

The scar was something she had obtained a long time ago when she was much younger and her body was much softer. It was at the hands of her father, who took her in.

Beatrice picked a design from the book and pointed at it with her finger.

“I like this one,” she said.

The design exposed her shoulders, but it had a halter-neck style that covered her neck and collarbones. Agatha, who had barely calmed her anger, looked down at the design that Beatrice had chosen and said, “Don’t worry about the scar; choose what you want to wear.”

Beatrice looked at Agatha, appreciating her understanding. Not caring much about the design details, she understood that having a scar on a noblewoman’s body could be seen as a flaw. So, choosing this dress was the right decision for her.