Chapter 12: CH 12

“Ian? I thought you were staying at Windsorbell today?”

Charlotte, who had locked herself in her study with instructions not to let anyone in, was surprised to see Ian burst in. Perhaps because he was in a hurry, his younger brother’s face was flushed more than usual.

“Did you run?”

One corner of her mouth quirked up at the unusual sight.

Ian spoke up.

“What other choice?”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Charlotte Martina Rose Astius, not Princess Charlotte, but ‘Charlotte’ dreams of making certain choices.”

The corners of Charlotte’s mouth rose, then slowly fell.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What if you could make a choice other than marrying royalty from another country and leaving Grand Batten. What would you do?”

Ian rephrased his question. He remembered Charlotte’s rigorous imperial education as a young girl, which Edward had insisted she didn’t need.

The smile vanished from Charlotte’s face. Her brother was laughing, but he wasn’t joking at all.

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Let’s make another choice.”

Just thinking about it is exhilarating.

Something so simple. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

It wasn’t Edward who would be king, or even himself. It’s Charlotte.

The prince was telling a story that the princess could never have brought up first.

***

The jury was divided, and they were back in court in three hours. The judge asked the jury.

“Your Lordships. Is Baron Warfield’s lady, Natalie Dowse, innocent or guilty?”

The representative of the jury stood up from his seat and glanced at Natalie.

Natalie closed her eyes tightly. She knew this was a trial designed to give her a jail sentence.

If she was going to be sentenced to death, she wanted to be able to speak for herself instead of her silent defence lawyer. That’s why she gave her own closing statement.

‘It ended up being more like a fierce battle of spirits than a defense, but….’

She could hardly be humbled in front of the verdict. Her fingertips trembled and she clenched her fists, but the trembling did not stop.

“Not guilty.”

Ah….

Her closed eyelids fluttered open. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The tears that had been stagnant fell to the floor and her vision became clear. It didn’t feel real. She could hear the prosecutor’s harsh protestations.

Natalie closed her eyes again. Tears streamed unceasingly through her closed eyelids. The two-month nightmare was finally coming to an end. She knew the worst was over.

The day after David’s final trial, it was reported in the papers that Prince Edward had presented Queen Violet’s necklace to Eris, the former Duchess of Hainsnover.

As if on cue, Edward acknowledged the scandal and renounced his right to the throne.

“Your Highness will live to regret this!”

The nobles were appalled at the crown prince for simply renouncing the throne and unanimously voted to disinherit him.

Surprisingly, they didn’t seem to have any regrets about the crown prince–they still had one more ‘prince’ in their lives.

With the shocking abdication of the throne, all interest in David disappeared overnight.

It all seemed like a dream to Natalie.

Having blown most of the money she had earned as David, including the cost of lawyers, on the David trial, she returned to her hometown in Warfield, hoping to take advantage of the fading interest.

But little did she know, in her naivety, that the world was cold and the real nightmare was just beginning.

Three years passed. Natalie Dowse and David were slowly being forgotten.

***

Not all gentlemen are the same gentlemen.

There are endless ways to categorise them, but it was like an immutable law that a member of the ‘White Tail’ club was at the top of the heap.

The White Tail was an aristocratic society for gentlemen at the top of their game in terms of family, wealth, and education. Of course, not just anyone could join. It was said that one could only be accepted on the recommendation of an existing member, and that one’s looks was a prerequisite for membership.

Gentlemen who couldn’t get into the White Tail looked down on it as a bunch of lecherous birds of prey, but in reality they wanted to fit in somehow. A single visit to the club was a matter of great bragging rights, as they had made friends with a White Tail member.

Navy Lieutenant Roger Heaton, the second son of an untitled family with no connections, would have been embarrassed to knock on a White Tail’s door.

So when the opportunity arose to visit the club with a White Tail member, a fellow naval academy graduate, he couldn’t resist.

“So who’s this?”

The voice of the first man to greet him at the club was pleasant, a gentleman of the uptight society gathering.

“My lord, greetings. This is Lieutenant Heaton, a classmate of mine at the Academy.”

“…Aha. Pleased to meet you, Mr Heaton. You’re very bright!”

Roger felt a pair of reptilian eyes scanning him up and down in an instant.

“And if you are Heaton, are you the son of that Mr Heaton who is the royal physician?”

The gentleman noticed that Roger was an unremarkable man. His gaze, his behaviour, his tone, had become haughty at once.

“The second son.”

It’s a piece of cake. Roger, equipped with a big smile, answered politely. Having served in the military at a military academy, he was an expert in pleasing someone.

“Hmm. As I recall, your brother once examined my father. He was a man who’s hard on praise, but on a rare occasion, he praised your brother.”

“I am honoured that you remember, my lord.”

But that was the extent of the gentleman’s attention to Roger, and soon the conversation turned to matters known only to those in high places.

Roger stood beside him and tried to control his expression. He tilted his glass of cognac whenever his face threatened to twitch.

‘Bastards. High nobility is always like this.’

He glanced over and realised how obvious it was that he’d just brought up a subject he couldn’t bring himself to talk about, but he grinned like a clown at them all the same.

‘Shit. Why did you have to talk about my ‘brother’ of all things?”

He thought to myself, making all sorts of insults.

The ambiguous second-born Roger wasn’t even as bright as his older brother Justin. Instead of studying medicine, he enrolled at the Naval Academy to become an officer.

As a cadet in the prime of his life, out of his brother’s shadow, he believed in his own success. But becoming an officer was no guarantee of advancement.

The military was no different. It’s all about connections and status. Not only did the Heatons have no military connections, but they were only upper-class pull-ups in a specialised profession.

As his peers moved up the ranks, Roger was always left behind. He was a seventh-year naval officer, but still a lieutenant.

Even then, it was a time of peace, not war. His pay was still half that of a junior officer, and there was no way he was going to be promoted, let alone become a hero.

It was impossible not to be shocked. He should have realized since his days in the naval academy that all his fellow trainees were all bony artistocrats. But by the time he realized it, it was too late to do anything different.

It was then that the gentleman with the reptilian eyeballs finally spoke.

“Prince Ian has returned from his tour, and he’s making a lot of noise.”

“Ah, you mean our Colonel Baldoma?”

Roger’s motives were obvious. In fact, he was a naval major, and like Roger, he and Ian had gone to the naval academy together, so they were not strangers.

“Colonel Ian Baldoma.’

At the same moment, Roger’s grip on his glass tightened. If a nobleman from White Tail was an ‘wretched bastard,’ it was even more painful for a royal.

Prince Ian, who had been a major three years ago, had been promoted two ranks and was now a colonel. He hadn’t even been on a single mission. It was an enviable life of constant honours for standing still.

‘To be born a prince of Grand Batten and to have such good looks. How unfair is the world?’

The corners of his mouth twitched as he remembered the prince’s good looks. During their training days, the prince always stood out with his outer appearance, even when rolling in the mud with his peers. And when it came to sailing on the same ship, Roger couldn’t help but feel a sense of envy. Trying to lift the corners of his mouth, he was reminded of his deep-seated inferiority complex. Roger believed that he had no problems with his conduct.

One of Roger’s peers spoke up.

“I saw it in the news. I’ve never seen so many people gather at the central railway station. The popularity of the prince and princess is truly remarkable.”

“It’s been almost a year since their return, right? I heard they were delayed from the original plan.”

“That’s probably because Princess Charlotte, who hasn’t married yet, accompanied them on their tour. Imagine how fussy she must have been during the whole trip, never having done any hard work. No wonder they were behind schedule.”

Everywhere the princess passed, praise and gossip poured in about her, but the conservative Grand Batten’s high-ranking officials were prejudiced against her and heard only what they wanted to hear.

“Hahah!”

The gentlemen, who ignored the princess without hesitation, laughed heartily. Even Roger, who had been stiffening his expression, began to laugh along with them, a beat slower.

“Hahaha!”

Roger knew he was looking very inadequate right now. But there was a reason for this clowning around.

This humiliation is an ordeal to find a good marriage partner. Roger thought to himself.

It was true that the Heatons were wealthy, thanks to a royal physician for generations, but the bulk of their wealth would fall to Justin, the eldest son and heir to the family name.

For Roger, the only thing that falls on him as the younger son is just a rural villa and the money to barely make ends meet. Of course, it is judged by Roger’s standard of indulging in luxuries compared to what he has.

Anyway, his age is finally approaching twenty-seven. He needs a breakthrough if he’s going to continue his life of debauchery and luxury.

The inspiration was his sister Emily.

Three years earlier, fearing that her cousin Natalie’s scandalous affair would tie her down forever, Emily had married somewhat hastily.

For a quick choice, her husband wasn’t bad. Although he was not the dignified gentleman Mrs Heaton had hoped for, he had a steady income.

And Emily’s husband had gone from rich to ‘very rich’ thanks to his bride’s dowry. Roger looked at it and thought.

‘It would be good to seduce a wealthy and innocent noble lady and marry her with a generous dowry.’

So Roger Heaton was happy to bow his head to these arrogant gentlemen, who would be his connections to a wealthy upper-class lady.

Passing the frivolous laughing ‘gentlemen,’ a man entered the private room grumbling in a gruff voice.

“Since when did the White Tail allow dogs and cows to come and go? I’ve been away a long time and you’ve turned this to a doghouse!”

The man opened the door without hesitation and walked into the room, startling the other person who was already sitting on the sofa.

“Wow… you surprised me. You were already here.”

On the couch in the middle of the room was a guest who had arrived before him.