Chapter 7
At her words, Helena’s followers—who had been faithfully waiting for her beneath the staircase—rushed up the stairs over one another. Kissing the back of her hand, they spoke in turn.
“Helena, you are my eternal queen…!”
“Even if you become another man’s wife, my heart will never change.”
“Our love is spiritual, and therefore immortal….”
Helena paid no attention to the empty-headed praises pouring from her admirers. With exquisitely graceful steps, she descended toward the ballroom one step at a time.
Lifting her dreamy eyes, she asked the man holding her hand,
“Then who is to become my husband? Is it you?”
Sir Stan, one of her most devoted followers, was so enraptured he nearly answered yes.
Looking at Helena—more dangerously beautiful than ever today—he spoke with aching devotion.
“Ah, my queen. A cowardly and foolish servant like me is unworthy of such an honor. The man destined to be your loyal knight is Count Ishpern over there.”
Slowly, very slowly, Helena turned her head toward where Sir Stan pointed.
And there he was.
Beneath a pillar draped with magnificent banners stood Benjamin Ishpern.
He appeared to have been speaking with several nobles, a wineglass held casually in one hand.
Oh my…!
Helena gasped inwardly.
He’s ridiculously handsome…!
Within the lavish ballroom—crowded with people dressed in colorful gowns and formalwear as though all the world’s light and color had gathered there—he stood apart.
His black curly hair fell loosely around him, and his body was wrapped in black velvet formalwear.
He looked like a single black pearl hidden in a jewelry box overflowing with precious gems.
Benjamin Ishpern met Helena’s gaze and turned fully toward her, straightening his shoulders.
The motion resembled a crouching black panther lifting its head.
Helena could vividly imagine the wild body hidden beneath that velvet coat and silk shirt.
His well-trained physique would surely be both powerful and supple like a beast’s, while his pale, smooth skin would be firm and fresh like an unripe wild plum.
Now I understand why I could never find a man I wanted to marry.
Helena mentally smacked her forehead.
That man was hidden away in some southern backwater while I kept searching only in the capital. Of course I couldn’t find him.
Helena sent a languid smile toward her beast—her unripe wild plum.
The moment Ishpern realized she was smiling at him, his face froze.
Not just his face. Still holding his wineglass, the count went utterly rigid, as though nailed to the spot.
Seeing that, Helena felt slightly disappointed.
Too easy.
After a brief moment of stiffness, Count Ishpern set down his wineglass, excused himself from those around him, and strode toward Helena with long confident steps.
Then, in a voice as sweet as chocolate, he whispered,
“So it was you.”
Naturally, Helena extended her hand toward him.
“Yes. It’s me.”
His gaze lowered to her hand.
There did not seem to be a single unattractive feature on him.
His pale skin resembled translucent white marble without even the slightest blemish, and his lowered eyelashes were black and glossy. His lips, red as rubies, were irresistibly alluring.
“Ah.”
A beat late, Ishpern realized what she wanted. Taking her hand, he smiled deeply.
The smile transformed his appearance yet again. Expression breathed life into his delicate features, emphasizing the bold masculine lines of his face.
Leaning slightly toward her, he looked directly into her eyes. Then, with ruby-red eyes fixed on hers, he gently pressed his lips against the back of her hand.
Trying not to focus too much on the sensation of those lips, Helena smiled back at him and thought,
This is bad.
Just then, a new piece of music began to play.
The man who would become her husband tomorrow morning—Benjamin Ishpern, with the fresh and firm body of an unripe wild plum and beauty so lethal it seemed the gods had sent him to test her—whispered against the back of her hand,
“We may have only just met… but Lady Winston, would you honor me with the first dance?”
Why was even his low voice so unbearably sweet?
It felt as though she were eating chocolate through her ears. Helena could not even think to play hard to get before replying,
“I doubt anyone would object if we shared every dance from the first to the last. By the end of tonight, we’ll be husband and wife, Count Ishpern.”
At her words, he laughed.
Helena watched the slight crooked curve of his moderately full lips.
When he smiled, the left corner of his mouth lifted subtly, revealing faint glimpses of sharp white canine teeth between his red lips. Even that was devastatingly attractive.
Together they stepped among the lines of dancers and faced one another. Surrounded by the crowd, they exchanged a light bow while holding each other’s gaze.
This is seriously dangerous….
Like someone under a spell, Helena could not tear her eyes away from him.
Her black pearl extended his hand toward her.
Placing her hand atop his large one, Helena felt even more nervous than she had during the very first dance of her social debut.
“…!”
The next moment, her body spun lightly through the air.
By the time she regained her senses, she was already dancing within Count Ishpern’s strong arms.
Warm breath brushed above her forehead.
“If I seem clumsy, forgive me. I’ve never danced at an event like this before.”
The scent rising from his silk shirt—a mixture of perfume and warm masculine heat—was so intoxicating it defied description.
His sweet voice ringing beside her ears felt like sugar syrup being poured directly into her mind, and his scent was enough to make her lose reason entirely.
Caught in the sensation of sinking into a glass jar filled with honey, Helena resisted with all her might.
“For someone inexperienced, your steps are flawless, Count Ishpern.”
The hidden meaning was clear: A count of all people shouldn’t lie.
But Ishpern seemed to take it as genuine praise.
Smiling proudly like a child who had just been complimented, he whispered sweetly into her ear,
“I practiced for today.”
A dizzying wave swept over her.
Helena had to close her eyes.
He has a face this beautiful, a body this absurdly sexy, and he’s cute too? This is the worst….
She suddenly felt like she ought to write an apology letter to Empress Clarissa immediately tonight.
Your Majesty the Empress, I’m sorry. I think I’m the one who’s fallen for the honey trap….
As Helena closed her eyes, Ishpern whispered to her,
“Lady Winston?”
“…”
“Miss Helena?”
“…”
“Are you alright?”
Helena’s eyes snapped open brightly.
“Please call me that again.”
At her words, Ishpern’s eyes widened slightly.
“Why?”
“After tonight, you’ll call me your wife, won’t you? I’d like to hear ‘Lady Winston’ and ‘Miss Helena’ a little longer.”
He gave that slightly crooked smile of his once more.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered,
“I shall call you whatever you wish, Lady Winston… and Miss Helena.”
The music ended.
As she slipped free from his strong arms, an inexplicable emptiness washed over her. But she could not allow herself to appear attached first.
With a languid smile, Helena said,
“I’m feeling a bit dizzy. I should rest.”
He smiled faintly.
“Then you should. Lady Winston… and Miss Helena. The night is still long.”
The night is still long.
The night is still long!
Such an ordinary phrase, yet coming from his beautiful lips, it sounded unbearably seductive.
Helena staggered lightly back toward her seat.
She did not spare even a glance for her followers, who trembled with jealousy.
…What am I supposed to write in that letter?
Though they had met only once, Helena felt certain Count Ishpern was not a bad person.
He was young and beautiful, with the body of a strong knight and the heart of a gentle gentleman. And in addition to that, he possessed a count’s title and vast lands.
There was no way a man like him could truly be connected to dangerous forces threatening the empire.
And even if he were involved just a little for some bad reason, I could fix it.
She would marry him. As a cultured and virtuous wife, she was fully confident she could captivate him so completely that he would never again entertain dark thoughts.
Within her embrace and gentle comfort, he would forget his ominous past and be reborn anew.
As Helena sipped chilled cider to calm herself, her eyes suddenly landed on Count Ishpern standing across the hall.
A knight wearing a cloak was speaking to him from behind a pillar. Judging by the crest on the cloak, the knight seemed to be one of the count’s men.
The count’s expression hardened more severely than before as he listened. Soon afterward, he headed toward the garden together with the knight.
What was that?
As her excitement faded, curiosity began to rise in its place.
