- - -

Catherine was exhausted by morning, as it was the first time she’d spent the whole night dancing. Lady Bryant had made her promise to go home by midnight, but Lord Damian had reassured her it was all right, and he had been enough to distract her completely from her conscience, though it now ached badly. She and numerous other ladies and gentlemen had breakfast at the Avington mansion, before farewells were said and each departed. Lord Damian insisted on escorting her home, and the resulting encounter was as awkward as she’d feared.

“Lord Damian,” Father said icily. “I see you’ve finally decided to return my daughter.”

“Yes, Lord Bryant, and I must thank you for allowing me her fine company,” Lord Damian said cheerfully. “It was the best gift I could’ve received from anyone, and I’m sorry to say goodbye.”

However, goodbyes were indeed said, and after a restrained thank-you from the baron, Lord Damian was ushered out of the house. Father turned to Catherine, and his expression softened, though it was still disapproving.

“You shouldn’t have stayed out all night, not with your current state of health. Go rest, and I’ll have some food sent up.”

“A-actually, Father, I have something I need to tell you.”

Father frowned, making Catherine wince. He stood expectantly, and Catherine lowered her gaze before she spoke quickly.

“Um, Lord D-Damian has asked me to marry him!”

No audible reaction. Catherine feared that he hadn’t heard her and she would have to say it again, but as she slowly lifted her head, that fear was replaced with a worse dread. Father’s expression was very strange, and as usual, she couldn’t read it all. Her stomach tightened, and she prayed that he wasn’t angry.

“...Come. We will talk in my office.”

She let out a sigh of relief, but her anxiety rose again when Father told a servant to get Uncle. When they were all gathered in Father’s office, he made her tell him the exact circumstances and words of the proposal, which she remembered better than anything she’d ever learned, and her cheeks grew warm as she recited them.

Uncle grinned. “Ha! Fact is, I’ve been wondering why my little Cat hasn’t been receivin’ more offers, given how good I’ve raised her. I ain’t surprised in the least, I’ll tell you! My little Cat’s all grown up now!”

He ruffled Catherine’s hair, and she smelt the familiar stink of alcohol on his breath. She smiled weakly. Father was not so impressed, and looked at her thoughtfully. He asked her some questions about their previous correspondence, and she answered them truthfully. He’d known about the gifts and letters Lord Damian had sent, but he’d merely warned her of his reputation and to not grow too attached, and to remain polite and avoid embarrassing the family any more. She’d done her best to obey.

“Why did you give him a pen knife? How did you even get it?”

“U-um… I-I read a story where everyone used magical knives, and i-it reminded me of him, so I sent Mary to buy the prettiest one she could find!”

Catherine swallowed. It was the strategy she’d used back in the bookstore, on the rare occasions where she didn’t want to tell the whole truth. The excuse was genuine enough, minus some details, and since that made it basically the truth, it did its best to alleviate the immense guilt she immediately felt. She bit her lip, trembling slightly, and thought of how disappointed Father and Uncle would be if they found out that she snuck out. That was much more effective in making her resolute.

Father lifted an eyebrow, but nodded slowly.

“Give a more expensive gift next time, though I doubt there’s anything we can afford to meet their standard. For now, treat him as normal, but if he asks for an answer, tell him you’re still thinking about it. Also, don’t tell anyone, though I suspect you have no one to tell anyways. If there’s nothing else, go rest.”

Catherine nodded and left, not relaxing until she finally reached her room and collapsed onto the bed. Then she buried her head into her pillow, and when the reality of the situation hit her, she began giggling, and couldn’t stop.

Lord Damian! Proposed! To her! The infamous playboy, who changed after he found his true love! Oh, it was straight out of a novel! The notion made her blush all over again and she buried her face in her hands. Alas, what was she going to do? It wasn’t her decision to make, but if, on the slim chance that Father asked for her opinion, what would she say?

Somewhere in her mind, ever since she’d been old enough to understand, she’d thought she would marry Prince Oscar. She’d built up a perfect image of him in her head, and when she found that he was completely different from her imagination, she’d decided he was even better. She had childishly conceived a fairy tale prince, all charms and affection, but he was built to be a king, and she was unfit to be queen, unlike Lady Valentina. Every time she saw him, while her heart pounded and was filled with romantically forbidden longing and a touch of fear, it was always overshadowed by the guilt towards her only friend. Still, she was unable to let go of that childhood dream of a happy prince and princess, and possibly she never will!

How could she marry Lord Damian, when she liked someone else? That would be absolutely cruel, especially since he was being genuine, perhaps for the first time in his career of flirtations. Yet he fit her mental picture better than the prince did, and the carefree and exciting happiness she felt with him was not worse than the thrill she felt around the prince, and even thinking about it now, she decided she must be falling in love.

Yes, this warm feeling must be love! After all, how could she have loved the prince, when she barely knew him? Lord Damian had been her friend, and she thought that if she could feel the joy that filled her when they were together all the time for the rest of her life, she would be very happy.

- - -

“It’s not a bad idea,” Baron Bryant mused, once Catherine left. “The boy’s probably the most powerful weapon in Orilon, but I don’t think we could turn him against his family. Still, even neutralizing him could change the whole game.”

“Eh? What ‘bout the prince?” asked Charles. “And ain’t you gonna do whatever makes little Cat happy? Thought that’s what fathers did.”

The baron did not answer immediately. He was carefully weighing every aspect of the situation.

“Obviously, the end goal is still the prince, but with the amount of interference we’ve faced, we can’t rule out another path to him. If I could get the king to agree to the matter with the saint, it’d be even better… But the best method would still be to acquire the prince’s favour directly. How is it going with the potions I asked you about?”

“Arrives tomorrow, I think.” Charles leaned back and yawned.

It never ceased to make Lord Bryant wonder how Charles could be so lazy and drunk and still get everything done well. That was why he’d trusted him with his daughter, and as has been the usual, he hadn’t been dissatisfied with the result. Even if Catherine started having her own ideas, he knew she was completely under their control. If only the prince would be so easy as well! Madame Albrecht’s concoctions were the strongest love potions out there, but if combined with potions designed to increment the effect of any other potions, perhaps they could have a miracle.

“Send it into the castle as soon as it does. We must’ve dosed him enough to make an elephant love a rock, so I refuse to believe he’ll hold out much longer,” Baron Bryant sighed. “If he doesn’t make a move before the end of the year, she’ll accept the proposal.”

To think Catherine had been back by his side for almost a year already! The plan had not gone smoothly at all, thanks to Lady Valentina. Yet it wouldn’t be much longer now until the masks came off, and only one house was left standing.

- - -

The day after the proposal, a package was delivered to the royal castle. Its contents would be added to the prince’s tea, for better or for worse. Questions were not asked.

Also on that day, Lady Bryant received a letter about urgent business in Isvoria. She departed immediately, taking Briana with her, since it was never too early for a child to start gaining experience. Of course, the same offer was not extended to the other girl. The length of the trip was to be at least a month, getting her out of the way for whatever may happen in her household during that time, though she was quite oblivious to it.

A week later, news of Damian’s proposal had not spread at all, unlike all his previous affairs, despite the fact that there had been several witnesses. Catherine was not involved enough in society to be aware of the irregularity. Damian knew it was probably the work of his sister, but thought it merely an attempt to protect the reputation of their house. As his annoyance and anxiety rose with the amount of time that had passed without an answer, he was almost grateful for it.

Catherine paid one of her usual visits to the slums. When she returned, she didn’t detect any strange taste in her tea, likely due to her general lack of experience with tea. That night, she began to feel tired. For the following days, she was weak and remained home, but as her health was already frail, and these episodes weren’t unusual, no physicians were called. Another week passed, and she developed a fever and a headache. House Bryant’s physician came, but being used to her ailments and rather tired of them, he only prescribed the usual tonics.

Two days later, Mary burst out of her lady’s room, screaming at the top of her lungs and running all over the mansion, making sure everyone heard her, from the baron to the most gossipy of maids.

“H-h-h-help! Lady Catherine’s got smallpox!”