TFCMD~05

Chapter 5

After finishing her greeting, Jasmine excused herself with quick, small steps, saying she still had to prepare the garments. The faint sound of a teacup being set back on the table echoed softly.

As Lorren’s shoulders finally loosened from the tension, a faint breath brushed against her ear.

“Rather than a wife you love enough to risk a secret marriage for… you should be prepared to do things you never thought you would.”

The low voice sank straight into her ear.

Lorren nearly jumped in her seat. She clutched her ear and leaned back in shock. Her wide lavender eyes met calm green ones. Astor, arms crossed, chuckled quietly.

“D-don’t startle me like that.”

Her heart pounded violently. Trying to act composed, she lifted her teacup and hid her flushed face behind it. She drank slowly, as if to calm herself.

It’s just because I was surprised. That’s all. That’s why my heart is racing.

“I apologize for interrupting your pleasant conversation, Your Grace, my lady. The preparations are complete. Shall we begin?”

Jasmine approached and asked politely.

Astor nodded and leaned back in his chair again. Following Jasmine’s guidance, Lorren stood and walked to the adjacent room, where a curtained fitting space had been prepared.

Measurements were taken in a sectioned-off corner—though Jasmine called it “taking her measurements” in an old-fashioned way.

Even the clothing worn by the Aloria atelier staff was unusually colorful and elaborate, like flowers and butterflies brought to life. Compared to them, Lorren’s own clothes looked painfully worn. In that vivid environment, her faded garments felt almost shameful.

Her ears burned slightly, but she lifted her chin anyway.

So what. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m a duchess.

She was led into the curtained inner space, wearing only her drawers and chemise. A chill touched her neck, making her shoulders twitch.

But there was no time to dwell on discomfort. She had to inspect the clothes the staff brought in.

Blouses, skirts, jackets, even several dresses. Just looking at how many there were made her head ache.

The Siaz barony had never been wealthy, so she had never experienced anything like this. It was exhausting. While other young ladies might have enjoyed it, Lorren already felt drained.

“The Duke requested this be prepared urgently, so we have brought a variety of ready-made garments. Please try them on and speak freely. Anything needing adjustment will be handled immediately.”

So she was expected to try all of them.

At Lorren’s exhausted expression, Jasmine let out a small laugh, though her hands never stopped assisting her. The high-collared blouse felt smooth against her skin, and the wide skirt, though richly made, was surprisingly light.

Lorren frowned slightly.

“Daily wear and walking skirts should be easy to move in. Please remove all lace and frills from the sleeves.”

To her surprise, Jasmine simply nodded without objection.

Lorren had expected resistance—Jasmine was a dressmaker for nobles. But there was none.

Noblewomen preferred to display their status through clothing: wide skirts, excessive lace, frills. Silk underwear, ornate decoration—fashion built on extravagance.

But Lorren wanted the opposite.

Her strict father had discouraged luxury. From helping him with his work, she had learned firsthand how impractical lace and frills were. Lace caught on pen tips and tore. Ink stains on frilled cuffs were nearly impossible to remove.

Besides, after an incident in her childhood, she had stopped attending social gatherings. Dresses were rarely needed.

Still, she hesitated a little.

“But you must still present the dignity of the Duchess of Liliwood.”

Right. She was no longer a baron’s daughter.

A duchess.

Even if she didn’t want it, she would have to enter society.

Jasmine’s expression remained gentle.

“We will follow your wishes for daily wear. For formal attire, some decoration is unavoidable, but we will prioritize your preferences as much as possible.”

“…Alright. Please do.”

If even the atelier head said so, she couldn’t insist further. At least daily wear would be comfortable.

Jasmine called for staff to bring additional samples. Lorren noticed a faint frown on one worker’s face, but the person said nothing and left.

The new clothes were slightly lower in quality than the first set, but much closer to her taste. Easy to move in, simple cuffs, clean lines.

Lorren nodded.

“These are better for everyday wear. Thank you, Jasmine.”

“I am honored you are satisfied, my lady.”

Jasmine bowed deeply.

It felt slightly awkward being treated so formally by an older woman, and Lorren gave a dry smile in return.

“It will take some time to prepare the dresses. Would you like some tea while you wait?”

“Yes.”

She was already tired enough. Though she was surprised the fitting wasn’t over yet, she hid it.

Right. There were still dresses to be made. The Emperor could summon her at any time.

Whether she wanted it or not.

As Lorren turned to return to Astor, she noticed the preparation room door slightly open.

Perhaps she should thank the staff.

She stepped toward it.

Inside, voices rang out.

“Impossible.”

“No, it’s true!”

“Why would a duchess wear clothes like a governess? It doesn’t make sense.”

“But that’s what I brought. Maybe she’s actually just… that kind of person. Governesses often end up as noblemen’s mistresses, don’t they?”

Lorren stopped walking.

Her expression, previously faintly relaxed, went blank.

Jasmine frowned and stepped forward, but Lorren raised a hand to stop her.

She wanted to hear more.

“Her clothes were shabby anyway. Maybe she’s trying to change her life by throwing herself at someone. Otherwise why would she marry a murderer? A duke would have had a grand wedding—yet there’s no news of one. Has anyone heard of a wedding dress order? No? See? Maybe even the ‘killer duke’ is too ashamed to show her in public.”

“Come on, that’s a bit—”

“Well, I did see him. He was incredibly handsome. Built too. Hard to believe he’s a murderer. Honestly, maybe I should throw myself at him instead. I’m younger and prettier than that raven-haired woman. Who knows? Maybe I’d become the duchess.”

Lorren’s lips curled slightly.

Dreaming was free—but speaking it aloud like that was foolish.

Especially when working in a noble household.

She stepped into the room.

The woman facing the door went pale the moment she met Lorren’s eyes. The others quickly bowed.

But one woman—still fixing her makeup—kept talking.

“I’m sick of dealing with noblewomen’s moods and sewing all day. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever open my own shop anyway—what’s wrong?”

Only then did she turn around.

And froze.

Lorren smiled gently.

“Jasmine.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Improve staff training.”

“I will see to it immediately.”

The matter would be handled.

Fired, perhaps. Or compensation claims for insulting the duchess.

That was not Lorren’s concern.

But one thing needed to be clarified.

“Did I ever say I intended to wear governess-like clothing?”

Her voice was soft. Her smile polite.

But her pale violet eyes were sharp.

The woman’s hands trembled.

“I am not a doll.”

Lorren’s voice remained calm.

“I married the Duke to be his partner. To manage his lands and live beside him.”

Her gaze slowly swept over the woman.

Frills. Lace. Excessive decoration.

A craftsman’s hands hidden beneath all that ornamentation.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with women who work?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“Astor dislikes the smell of makeup.”

With a faint smile, she turned and walked out.

Behind her, chaos erupted—Jasmine issuing orders, the woman protesting loudly.

Lorren leaned against the corridor wall outside and exhaled.

She was used to being insulted. Normally she would have ignored it.

But not anymore.

She was a duchess now.

And it seemed that was already giving her a headache.

Maybe she was hungry.

Yes. Tea.

She walked slowly toward where Astor was waiting.