"Countess, please accept a glass."
"Thank you."
Juliet, feeling slightly thirsty, did not refuse the offered drink.
Though she had never particularly enjoyed alcohol, the light honey wine turned out to be surprisingly soft and sweet—it coated her lips pleasantly and slid easily down her throat.
Roy cast wary glances at Juliet, but she remained focused solely on the Daltons.
"Tell me," she asked calmly, "that tiara the Marquis of Guinness possessed... what did it look like?"
"Oh, yes!" the couple replied excitedly. "It was a true treasure, studded with precious jewels."
"I've never seen anything like it in my life!"
Their faces glowed with pride. They had once served at the Marquis's court, and now the Duke of Carlisle's companion herself was speaking to them.
"The tiara was crafted from pure gold, adorned with sapphire-hued stones touched with violet..."
"Shh!" the Viscount added mysteriously, lowering his voice. "That tiara is most likely still in the Marquis's mansion."
"Only *he* knew how to access that secret room. And now he's imprisoned in the capital. Even if you searched the estate, you wouldn't find it."
"Yes, it seems so..." Juliet suppressed a smile.
*In truth, I know precisely how to access that room. Moreover, I know the exact location of the tiara itself.*
*If I send knights there... perhaps they will find not only the jewel, but Dahlia as well.*
Struggling to hide the trembling in her fingers, she continued carefully:
"Viscountess, could you recall when you last saw that tiara?"
---
## — On the Terrace —
Meanwhile, Lennox stood by the terrace railing, gazing into the distance, ignoring the animated chatter spilling from the hall.
"Your Grace."
A knight approached.
"The Marquis of Guinness requests an audience."
"For what purpose?"
"He offers to settle everything with money. He says he'll relinquish half his property in exchange for clemency. He begs to see Lady Juliet, claiming it was all a misunderstanding."
"A *misunderstanding*?" Lennox laughed, not bothering to hide his contempt.
It was this man who had first endangered Juliet by resorting to forbidden black magic.
While Juliet seemed content with the Marquis's imprisonment and the dismantling of his influence, Lennox had no intention of being so merciful. He was calculating how to inflict the longest and most painful retribution upon Guinness.
"And..." the knight hesitated. "Lady Juliet summoned Lord Halbury."
Lennox frowned.
Lord Halbury was the Duke's personal physician.
"Why did she need Halbury?"
"She also requested a copy of the family genealogy from Secretary Elliot."
"Give it to her."
"Pardon?"
"Give her everything she asks for," Lennox repeated quietly, offering no explanation.
He turned and walked back into the hall—only to be immediately confronted with an unpleasant scene.
"Your Grace, Duke!" Tipsy nobles rushed toward him, bowing nearly to the floor.
People who yesterday had avoided Lennox and averted their eyes now swarmed around him as though they had been lifelong friends.
"Don't worry about the Council of Nobility!"
"We will support you, Duke of Carlisle! We swear our allegiance!"
*What nonsense is this?*
Lennox thought darkly, scanning the hall. He caught sight of Elliot, who guiltily looked away.
"Forgive me, Your Grace... it's my fault... Lady Juliet began discussing the Council..."
Lennox didn't wait to hear the rest. He descended the stairs quickly.
Juliet stood at the center of the room, radiant amid the social throng. Her face glowed, she chatted animatedly, smiled warmly—and by all appearances, was having a wonderful time.
Lennox, watching from the periphery, involuntarily clenched his jaw.
*Unbearable.*
Though the atmosphere was festive, the faces surrounding her were not all friendly. Most were elderly nobles who had once known the late Count and Countess of Montague.
"We were so mistaken about Lady Montague..."
"Did you hear she inherited the title? And she's still unmarried!"
"Yes..." Juliet confirmed cheerfully, not at all embarrassed.
"I can't believe such a refined lady is still single!"
"I have a wonderful candidate! Would you like an introduction?"
"Certainly."
"Truly?!"
*What on earth is happening here?*
Lennox had completely forgotten how often these receptions turned into thinly veiled matchmaking affairs.
"Perfect! Viscount Schnabel is young and promising..."
"Well, he may not be wealthy yet, but he has excellent connections in the capital!"
Juliet, as polite as ever, listened attentively to the chatter swirling around her.
The moment they sensed her kindness, marriage proposals poured forth from all sides—distant relatives, cousins, nephews, neighbors' sons. None possessed any particular merit beyond, perhaps, "exemplary manners."
*It seems that's all they have to boast about.*
"Here, please—take my glass as well!"
Even more alarming was the ease with which Juliet accepted each new glass, smiling with radiant innocence—and drained it without hesitation.
Lennox watched with an inscrutable expression, but unease was rising steadily within him.
*Something is wrong. She keeps smiling—too widely.*
"While we're on the subject, let me introduce him!"
"Ah, yes... my name is Artur Schnabel."
"Very nice to meet you."
Juliet could barely stand, swaying slightly—but she smiled as though nothing were amiss.
"Well, what do you think, Countess? Isn't he a dream match?"
"No. Not impressed at all."
She was too... *honest*.
Lennox studied her closely and suddenly understood.
*Damn.*
*She's drunk. Genuinely drunk.*
Without a moment's hesitation, he strode down the stairs.
*If I'd known things would turn out like this, I never would have left her alone.*
"Hey, what's going on?"
One of the men surrounding Juliet turned with a displeased expression. But upon seeing who stood before him, he froze.
"Oh... Your Grace?"
The crowd—which moments ago had been loud and boisterous—parted instantly like the Red Sea.
Lennox gritted his teeth as he pushed through the path they'd cleared.
"Juliet."
"Your Grace?"
"Let's go."
Fortunately, she obeyed without protest, taking his hand and following him.
He swiftly wrapped her in his cloak and guided her to the ducal carriage waiting outside.
Once Juliet was settled inside and he'd tucked the cloak securely around her shoulders, understanding dawned on him.
A light, sweet fragrance emanated from her—honey and wine.
It was a specialty drink often served at weddings: at first it seemed light, almost harmless—but if one indulged too freely, the world would spin like fog.
*Juliet likely didn't realize how deceptive it was.*
"Let's go."
As the carriage pulled away, Juliet blinked and asked:
"Are we... going home?"
Lennox was momentarily speechless.
It was the first time he'd seen her like this: slightly disheveled, a blush warming her cheeks, confused and touchingly innocent.
He didn't know why he felt so... *warm* inside. Though he couldn't say he particularly enjoyed this cheerful, radiant side of her.
"What were you discussing back there?"
"Nothing in particular," she sighed, as though suddenly overheated, and began chattering easily—like a young girl unburdened by pretense.
"Lady Dalton's husband made a fortune selling stolen relics. Oh, and he also traded jewels with the Marquis of Guinness..."
Lennox listened in silence. He was interested less in the substance of her story than in Juliet herself—relaxed, smiling, eyes sparkling.
"And the son of Marquis Schnabel is not yet married, but he's highly regarded."
It had been so long since he'd seen her like this.
Once, long ago—before she had withdrawn into herself after the betrayal—she had been open like this.
And it was *he*, Lennox Carlisle, who had caused that wound.
Now Juliet sat beside him, answering questions with the simple earnestness of a diligent student.
"And one more thing..."
"Why did you drink?"
The question came out sharper than he'd intended.
According to Elliot's confession, Juliet had deliberately steered the conversation toward the Council of Nobility in order to win sympathy and support.
But instead of appreciating her strategy, Lennox felt only irritation.
He had seen with his own eyes how unscrupulous aristocrats imposed their sons and grandsons upon her.
"Don't you have more pressing concerns?"
"Don't say that, Lennox."
Despite his sarcasm, Juliet calmly opened her fan.
"What is that?"
She didn't answer, examining the card attached to the fan's edge.
"What are you reading?"
Lennox snatched the fan from her hand, flipped the card over, and frowned.
Names were written in neat lines, penned with ink from a portable inkwell.
An old aristocratic tradition: a list of dance partners for the ball, kept in advance to maintain order.
Seeing the card covered with the names of smug lords, Lennox felt the evening had reached its nadir.
But Juliet, as always, knew precisely how to add fuel to the fire.
"Give it back. I'm not finished."
And, ignoring his darkening expression, she added another name to the list.
*Is she doing this on purpose? Or is she simply that drunk?*
Lennox struggled to contain himself.
He knew, of course, that Juliet didn't mean to provoke him. But still...
"So what now?" he asked evenly, though fury simmered beneath the surface. "You'll dance with each of these 'well-mannered and respectable' gentlemen? And then what—*marry* one of them?"
---