The next day, Rama Verde didn’t even bother staying for breakfast. After being thoroughly humiliated the night before, he immediately left the Fresa Mansion. Usually etiquette demanded that the hosting noble see off their guest but Felicia wasn’t interested in seeing him either and didn’t bother.

Before doing anything else for the day, Felicia dismissed the maid who’d been bribed. The Marchioness was in the habit of dismissing her maids, so no one thought too much about her doing it again. If anyone pondered on it at all, they only concluded this was one of the few times they agreed with her dismissal.

The maid in question just felt lucky she was simply let go and not given a whipping. To be fair, she had only done what she thought her mistress would have wanted... and perhaps earn some extra money at the same time. Who knew the Marchioness sexual preferences had changed so much?

As Felicia watched the maid leave, it occurred to her this was an easy way to get rid of the Viscount’s spies. The most troublesome spies had always been her personal, lady’s maids. Rather than trying to replace them, she could simply get rid of the position completely.

She had felt there were too many lady’s maids since coming to this timeline. If she hadn’t already made so many drastic changes, she would have immediately cut their numbers in half. Unfortunately she’d attracted too much attention from the Viscount already, so they remained.

But if she very slowly dismissed them or moved them to a different job within the mansion and didn’t replace them once they were gone, well… that should be alright, shouldn’t it?

Therefore she surprised everyone in the mansion and didn’t seek out a replacement for the maid that had been let go. Instead she reduced the working hours of all her maids and got rid of their night shift, saying it wasn’t needed. She also demoted and relocated the two lady’s maids who were good friends with the one that had been bribed.

The message this sent was pretty clear: Not only would the servant who was slacking or greedy get booted, those they regularly associated with were also at risk. The Marchioness took “guilt by association” very seriously. Workers who’d slacked behind their superior’s back suddenly found their friends avoiding them. The slackers got nervous and started to work, fearing they might be ratted out.

This hadn’t been Felicia's intention. She just wanted an excuse to reduce the amount of maids directly serving under her. Unintentionally, she caused the entire mansion staff to take their jobs more seriously.

Even though the lady’s maids wouldn’t be manning the halls anymore, someone did need to be there. The position wasn’t there just for Calle’s convenience, it was also for safety. Fire hazards were a real fear and it was good to have someone awake and roaming the halls to make sure things were in good order.

For this job, Felicia turned to the hallboys. The hallboys typically slept in the halls of the servants’ quarters and had the second lowest wage in the mansion. Basically, they were entry level workers. Night duty became a job they could volunteer for as they liked. Anyone who worked it would get extra pay for their trouble and the following day off. They could even volunteer for the position in weeks or month chunks, thus doubling their pay.

The main mansion had plush rug floors, heat, and was much quieter than the servants quarters. From the hallboys’ perspective, it was a drastic step up from the cold, creaking servants quarters. Even if Felicia hadn’t offered “special pay” for working overnight, they’d have volunteered just to be in a warmer, softer location at night.

The remaining personal maids were uneasy with the changes, feeling like their jobs were being threatened. But almost every man in the mansion had started as a hallboy, and therefore had a soft spot for them. This meant the personal maids—who were already outnumbered by the male servants—didn’t find the sympathy they were expecting from the other servants. They could only quietly grumble to themselves and a few senior maids when no one was around to express their discontentment.

Next, she called Valor to her “office” and shooed out any servants. After being told to sit, he looked extremely fidgety and awkward. Felicia knew why and inwardly lamented, wishing to apologize for taking things too far last night. It was unfortunate that Calle would never apologize to a servant.

Clearing her throat, she tried to look extremely apologetic, and did the best she could with the body she was given, “What happened last night, I won’t do it again.”

Hearing this Valor relaxed in relief.

“However…”

He tensed.

“...I must maintain the illusion of closeness with you for a while yet.”

Valor had been talking with the servants regularly, and also listening to the Marchioness lessons, so he had a better grasp of the language. But he had not heard the word “illusion” used yet.

“Ill..u..usion?”

“Something that seems real but is not. Something that you see with your eye, but is not there. A fake, pretend.”

“Oh.” He paused and then frowned deeply. “Why keep doing pretend?”

Instead of answering him directly, she asked something seemingly unrelated.

“Valor, do you like it here?”

Confused by this question, he blurted his honest feelings:

“Better than homeless.”

She raised an eyebrow and felt this kid was a little ungrateful. He didn’t seem to realize how close to death’s door he’d been when she found him.

“You’re a runaway slave, aren’t you?”

He stiffened in surprise.

“How long you know?”

“I was told soon after you arrived.”

Lowering his head, he bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. Whatever he’d been when his father was alive, it’s true he was sold as a slave. Even if he could return home, the shame of being a slave would always be seared in his mind. Though his situation was much better he had not been properly bought and freed by his master, but simply ran away. He knew how the system worked, he’d seen it plenty of times. Therefore, his status was still technically one of a slave and meant he should be treated as such.

“I am slave, not commoner.” He admitted and then asked suspiciously, “What you want do?”

Felicia furrowed her brow, why did it feel like she was being accused of something?

“You are a commoner as long as you live here.” She firmly asserted. “Unlike those other, less civilized nations, we in Salvias do not keep slaves. It’s against the King’s Law. Therefore, to me, you will always be a lowly stupid commoner. I will not hear a word otherwise.”

Valor sat there, puzzled. He had thought she didn’t know and that’s why she treated him and his half-siblings like the other servants. That insult she’d just used, about being a “lowly stupid commoner”, was a frequent one. She used it all the time so he’d assumed...

His brow furrowed.

Wait.

If she’d known they were slaves, shouldn’t her insults focus on that rather than them being commoners? Wasn’t it strange that she didn’t? Malicious, arrogant people don’t choose the lesser insult when they've got a perfectly good, mean one available. That she didn’t when she obviously could have, doesn’t that mean she was being strangely... thoughtful?

This realization dumbfounded him

No, it couldn’t be that her insults were considerate! That wouldn’t make any sense, right? Why would someone *considerately* insult a person?!

He remembered the Heir Childe telling him something odd after he started serving him: ‘Mother has a sharp tongue, but you mustn’t let that blind you to her kindness. It is difficult to see at first. You have to listen to the meaning behind the words, not the words themselves, and take her actions into account. Once you do that you will see… she is very kind.’

At the time, Valor had thought this was just the biased thinking of a young son towards his mother. Otherwise, how could such a little boy stand how roughly— nay, out right cruel—his mother spoke to him? It was all a way to protect himself, Valor had thought.

Valor had been like that too when he was young. Even when his Mother was causing trouble in his Father’s harem and dragging him into it like a pawn in a game, he always sided with his Mother against his Sister-Mothers. It was only when he officially moved out of the harem and worked with his Father regularly that he began to view harem drama with impartiality.

But it seemed the Heir Childe hadn’t been biased at all, but saw things clearly thanks to having experienced it first hand.

It was Valor who’d been biased.

Though she’d taken them in at their worst, cleaned them up and fed them, gave them a home and jobs to give them a place in society… even educated them, teaching them the language and the world along with her son… though her actions had been compassionate from the beginning... he’d always thought the worst of her…

He’d judged her by her status, her words, through a lens of suspicion because he’d been hurt in the past…

She’d saved their lives and treated them well for weeks…

But he hadn’t been grateful. He hadn’t shown any of the behavior befitting a member of the Samudr family. Towards his life-savior, his mind had been filled with disdain and doubt..

...life-savior...

His mind stilled as the word echoed in his heart.

Felicia had no idea what was going on inside the boy sitting in front of her, only noticing he hadn’t responded to her words at all.

“Former slaves are also human beings,” Felicia continued talking since he didn’t seem to want to speak, “Which means you must have parents.”

“...”

He didn’t say anything, simply stared at his lap.

She raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat loudly to try to get his attention. He jumped as if startled and finally looked up at her.

“...Father, Mother… you have those, correct?”

He went to nod and paused, shaking his head negative.

“You do or don’t have parents?”

“Have.” His voice was strained as he forced out: “Died.”

“Ah.” She’d known this already but felt glum having to remind him of something so sad. “Do you have relatives in your homeland? Older brother, sister, aunt, uncle… even an adult cousin?”

His hands clenched on his lap, the unwelcome memory of his home being invaded and the screams of people dying, blood everywhere… His whole body began to tremble despite himself and he felt like he couldn’t breath.

Felicia watched in alarm as his shiny bronze skin noticeably paled and became lackluster. She hesitated for several seconds, unsure of what to do, and then saw he was breathing too fast and beginning to slump over. Internally screaming in alarm, she tossed out her worries of making him uncomfortable and promptly walked over and gathered him into her arms, gently stroking his back to calm him down.

Her mind frantically tried to find something comforting that would get past her host’s filter.

“I am the Marchioness, my son the Heir. Though you were filthy and stupid when I found you, I still picked you to be a servant of the Fresa Mansion, to be my son’s valet. You are a citizen of Salvias Kingdom now, a lowly commoner of the Fresa Fief, and the mansion is your home. You are no longer a dirty little beggar with nothing.” She repeated anxiously, “The mansion is your home. Do you understand?”

Before she’d finished speaking, Valor had stopped trembling. If she had not been hugging him, he’d have been humorously moved by her weird attempt to comfort him. Unfortunately, he deeply and extremely disliked being held by this woman. More than anything, that jolted him out of his traumatic memories.

Currently his whole body was breaking out into goosebumps at her nearness.

“Understand.” He said in a slightly muffled voice, his face squished into her thickly clothed shoulder.

She released him and was relieved to see his face had returned to its usual color. She didn’t miss his look of distaste and cried invisible tears over it. He really wouldn’t forgive her for yesterday, would he?

Sitting back down, she cleared her throat. “Do you want to go back to your homeland?”

He straightened his spine at her words and responded with an instant yes.

“What is the name of your homeland?”

“Sabz”

She pursed her lips, “As I thought, I have never heard of that place. Does it go by any other name?”

Valor furrowed his brow. It also went by the Eternal Flourishing Empire or just the Eternal Empire, but he didn’t know how to say that in her language yet. In the end, he could only shake his head.

She sighed, “Initially I thought to return you back to… Sabs—”

“Sabz”

“....Sabz. But I’ve never heard of that nation. The slave traders that brought you had gotten you from other people, who also got you from other people, and so they only knew you came from the east. How can I send you back to Sabz if I have no idea where it is? Even if I just had you go in an easterly direction, you would need money. But how much money would you need? How often would you need to exchange our money for the currency of another nation? How safe are the nations you’ll travel through?” She pursed her lips. “Without more information, I can’t send you to your homeland.”

He nodded slowly, feeling shocked she had thought to send him and his half-siblings home to the point she’d considered such problems.

“There is also another problem, which is actually much worse than the first.”

“Worse problem?”

“It was the Viscount who told me you were a slave. He knew of you because he is on good terms with the slave traders that stop by the Fresa riverport. They had requested he keep an eye out for you and, if he found you, keep you until they returned and then give all three of you to them. Apparently you’re quite valuable as slaves because of your unique skin sheen.”

“You return me?” His body became taut like a stretched cord, ready to bolt. If she intended on throwing them to those slave traders he’d just make a run for it—

“What? No, no.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I told you already, you are not a slave. We do not keep slaves here. Nor do we sell our own people into slavery. That’s against the King’s Law.”

Valor relaxed and then looked confused, “Then… Viscount not return me? Safe.”

She was the Marchioness. He learned from the loud Butler the Marchioness ruled, then the Heir Childe, then the Viscount. If the Marchioness said he was a citizen of the Salvias Kingdom and Fresa fief, then that meant he was under the King’s Law just like everyone else. The slaver traders shouldn’t be able to touch him.

“Oh no, if he gets a chance, he’ll definitely hand you over to those slave traders.”

“Eh? Eh? But Viscount below Marchioness.”

“Ah… only in name.”

“What ‘only in name’ mean?”

“That is… the Viscount rules the fief and I somewhat rule the Fresa Mansion.”

His forehead turned into a huge wrinkle. This wasn’t what he’d been taught. The Marquess ruled the fief. The Viscount helped the Marquess, like an aid. This was in the King’s Law, as explained by the Butler. Even though the Marchioness was a woman, she ruled in place of her dead husband and represented her son until he came of age. So the Viscount definitely shouldn’t have control of the fief…

Thinking till here, he had a flash of insight.

“Viscount… take fief?” He added to clarify: “Against King’s Law?”

She nodded gravely.

Valor’s mouth fell open, “How?! You say to King, King stop Viscount. King stop Viscount, yes?!”

“Mmmmm…. I can’t tell the King.”

“Why?!”

“The Viscount would hurt Heir Childe before the King could do anything.”

More precisely, the Viscount would rat out Calle as a murderer and adulteress to the King. She’d lose her life and Rido would be demoted to a commoner, labelled a “fief thief” and left to fend for himself. But this wasn’t something she was going to tell Valor.

The crimes of the host were heavy!

“....oh.” He nodded, understanding only that the situation was serious.

“Right now, everyone is afraid of the Viscount and obeys him. Even in the Mansion they only listen to me when the Viscount is away.”

Valor thought back to the few times the Viscount visited and realized this was true. Whenever that fat man was in the mansion, every servant walked on egg-shells and bent over backwards to make him happy. He hadn’t thought too much about it at the time, since it didn’t involve him and he didn't understand the politics of this place but now...

“The main thing is that if I try to send you away, the Viscount will definitely trap you before you can leave and hold you until the slave traders pass back through. The only reason he hasn’t done so yet is because I convinced him I was going to raise you into my…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “...lover. And I was using your brother and sister to threaten you to do what I want.”

His mouth fell open. She told the Viscount what?!

“That man who visited last night was meant to be a test by the Viscount, to see if I was serious about you being my lover.” She pursed her lips. “And perhaps to test and see how much I’d changed, or if I was putting on a show, or something worse…”

“You… you…!” He pointed at her accusingly. “Bad! Very bad thing you do!”

There was no honor in being the lover of a woman 20 years his senior. Especially when he was a foreigner and had no roots in this place, he would be viewed as a noble’s plaything. Any work he did would be ignored and the focus would be on his relationship with the Marchioness. He’d always be looked down on!

Felicia saw his temper rising and sighed heavily, “Stop your fussing! If I took in some dirty brats for no reason, you think he would let you stay?”

Valor lowered his finger frowning.

“I have a reputation, I need to maintain that reputation to trick the Viscount. If I don’t, Heir Childe is in danger…” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, “...and you and your siblings too, because I took you in.”

The younger man's face scrunched in regret and frustration. It was like he escaped one fire only to run into another!

“That being said, if I win against the Viscount and Heir Childe becomes the true Marquess, you can go home.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Once you are an adult, it will be much safer for you to travel. You can go home, figure out your family situation, and then take your brother and sister back.”

He was silent, looking down at his lap with his brow furrowed. After a bit he shook his head and looked back up, “I stay.”

Felicia raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Brother, sister, go home. Yes?”

“Who goes and who stays, that’s up to you three. Just know the choice is yours to make. This is the privilege that comes with being a free person. You can go where you want.” She chuckled, “But only if my son gains true control over this place.”

“I stay,” He repeated firmly and then begrudgingly agreed, “I… do as Marchioness says. I… lover...”

His whole face wrinkled in distaste at the admission. Felicia ignored it because she knew it was mostly her fault.

“As I said at the beginning, what happened yesterday will not happen again.”

Valor looked at her with distrust.

She pursed her lips. “I’ve got someone else in mind for the parts that require open displays of affection.”

“Affection?”

She raised a finger and slid it across her hand suggestively, “Affection.”

Valor clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to know anymore.

“Anyway, you are aware of the situation. Don’t tell your siblings what is going on, they are too young. If you need someone to talk to, there will be me, the Nanny, Heir Childe and…”

Claro Curtidor, retired knight and martial arts teacher to the Heir Childe, stumbled backward in shock.

The Marchioness had found him while he was going through a series of intense exercises in an isolated area, out of sight of the Mansion. This was so he could take his shirt off without causing any maids to faint or hit him with a broom for being indecent. Who knew he’d be the one feeling like fainting?

“You want me to do WHAT?!”

“Pretend to be my lover and come to my room tonight.”

“How can— that’s obviously— Marchioness, how could you ask such a thing!”

She folded her arms across her chest, “We both know I have no real power here, much less over the fief.”

Claro lips pressed together in a thin line. She had never spoken aloud what she’d written in her secret note about weeks ago.

“If you think about it, it’s not surprising. I was young when I married and was a second wife. The Fresa family disliked me and the Mora family…” She furrowed her brow, sensing her host was unwilling to talk ill of her family and decided to avoid it for now. “Well, suffice to say there was no one to teach me anything. Certainly no one in Fresa Mansion was willing. The Marquess was already old by the time I came along. He depended heavily on the Viscount for managing the fief because he refused to select a boy from his grandchildren to take over.” Felicia shrugged, “From the beginning I had no control over my life, much less the fief.”

Claro hesitated and finally got a chance to say what had been bugging him for weeks, “If you go before the King’s Court, surely you can get justice.”

“Lord Curtidor, think carefully about my reputation. Now think carefully about the Viscount. In the King’s Court, who do you think they will side with?”

“But you are Heir Querido’s mother!”

She laughed sarcastically, “Between a woman who is known wide and far for her debauchery and spendthrift behavior and a man who has been employed to aid the Marquess for over 30 years, faithfully bringing in taxes for the king during his service, who will they pick?”

Claro looked down, unable to meet her eyes.

“You see? Even you wouldn’t pick me to raise Heir Childe!” She waved her hand in exasperation and then said quietly, “When I was young, I was naive and foolish. I despised being married to an old man. In my ignorance and anger I did things… things I can’t take back. The Viscount used my behavior as a shield to cover his own viciousness and now… now people only see me as a witch and they ignore the Viscount, who has always been the real devil.”

The retired knight raised his gaze, his brown eyes searching her face carefully for signs of deception. Over the weeks he’d seen her work and teach, and his distrust of her had faded. For those who understood how a fief should be run, such as he did, it was clear she really had no control and hadn’t for a long time. It was just… there was a hint of doubt left in his heart.

“Then what you’re asking me to do… won’t it make your reputation even worse?”

Felicia gave a low chuckle, “You underestimate how badly people think of me. Unless I murdered someone outright, it is unlikely my reputation could sink any lower.”

“But the way you are going about things... What is the purpose?”

“The purpose is for my son to be the Marquess in name AND power.”

“By destroying yourself?”

She raised her eyebrows, “Destroy myself?” She laughed heartily, “How can I sink any lower in the public’s eye? The Viscount uses my terrible reputation to shield himself. If he can do it, why can’t I?”

“I… I don’t know if I quite follow you…”

Felicia gazed off into the distance with a thoughtful expression on her face. “The Viscount uses me. If he loses control I will be disposed of and then there is no one to protect the Heir Childe. To prevent him from throwing me away, I must maintain my notoriety and remain a ignorant and easy to manipulate figurehead. He must never believe I am truly thinking of the Heir Childe’s future.” She turned a serious gaze to Claro, “But, Lord Curtidor, I am always thinking of it. I am always thinking of Heir Childe’s future. And therefore I know that what Heir Childe’s needs is loyal supporters.”

“And… you count me as a loyal supporter?”

“I do. But if you show yourself too loyal, the Viscount won’t allow you to stay. So there must be a sufficient and plausible reason for you to remain.”

“As your lover?”

She smiled at him and shrugged helplessly. “What can I say? The Viscount really does believe I’m greedy for men.”

Claro scratched his red hair and then rubbed his neck, frowning deeply.

After a while, he cleared his throat and said awkwardly, “But… is it realistic?”

“How so?”

“You said yourself, I’m crippled. Would a… a lady of your status even want me?”

“Oh that!” She rolled her eyes, “Who cares about that? It’s not below the thigh I’m concerned with.”

He actually blushed.

“Lord Curtidor, don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got a very handsome face and, discounting the leg, everything else is very nicely proportioned.”

“Marchioness!”

She grinned mischievously, “I am simply being objective. If anyone makes any comments about your legs, I shall simply tell them it is harder for you to turn away from me, so I find it convenient.”

[User, someone is about to be within earshot.] DARS interrupted suddenly.

“So do you agree?” Felicia hurriedly asked him, stepping forward.

“I—”

“As I said, it will just be a show. We won’t do anything.”

“But that’s—”

She took another step forward and placed her arms around his neck, causing his whole body to freeze.

Leaning forward she whispered, “Someone is watching.”

“Where?” He asked in a low voice, his body somewhat relaxing.

She glanced to the side, “Behind me and a little to my left, I think.”

Claro leaned down towards her face and, in the process, tilted his head slightly in the direction she’d indicated.

He saw a human shaped shadow in the distance. It had just started to hide itself, as if the person had realized they’d walked onto a juicy scene and intended to peep. Claro turned to look down at the Marchioness in amazement.

“How did you know?”

“I’m keenly aware of my surroundings.” She raised her eyebrows, a look of amusement on her face. “I take it you agree?”

He sighed heavily, “...yes.”

She laughed lightly, as if he’d said something extremely charming.

“Don’t worry, once Heir Childe is safe, this… relationship… will end and you’ll be free.”

“Then we must hurry to make it happen.”

“Of course!”

“If we wait until he is legally the Marquess, I will be an old man.”

“...” Felicia’s face twitched. This guy wasn’t much past his mid-20s! By the time Rido inherited his title, this guy would be in his 30s. If he considered that being an old man, exactly what was she considered right now?!

———

In a week’s time, a scandalous rumor surfaced: the widowed Marchioness Fresa was “raising” a foreign boy in her mansion while *at the same time* sleeping with her son’s teacher.

Interestingly, though this was extremely dubious behavior for a Marchioness to display, it was considered LESS awful than her previous rumored affairs. Though the rumors spread like wildfire, after the initial buzz, people quickly lost interest. After all, speaking ill of a widow who was technically free to love who she wanted, was a bit prudish. There were far more interesting rumors going around involving cheating couples...c

Even though Felicia was trying to imitate the past Calle’s bad behavior, she found she just didn’t have the same spark as the original. She could only mentally console herself with the fact that everyone who was prejudiced against her would remain prejudiced, up to and including that weasley Viscount.

———

“Countess Marron, have you ever heard the saying ‘no good deed goes unpunished’?”

Felicia was sitting across from the Countess, looking put upon.

After that spat of rumors, the Marron’s distanced themselves from her. Felicia wasn’t surprised. They were an upright family and didn’t spend time with—at least not openly—with those who clearly lacked a moral compass. It had already been an act of benevolence for the Countess to allow herself to associate with a person of Calle’s reputation.

But Felicia didn’t have any intention of giving up on this connection. She would maintain a bad reputation while at the same time clinging to the Marron’s like a lifeline. To that end, she had pestered the Countess ceaselessly, until the mother of four had finally given in and let her visit again.

“I don’t believe I have Marchioness Fresa.”

“Then let me enlighten you, for this is exactly what I have lately experienced.” Felicia pursed her lips. “I have taken in three foreign born children into my mansion, one as a servant and the other two as playmates for my son. Before I found them they were on the brink of starvation. I did a good deed taking them in, but do you know what people are saying about me?!”

Felicia slammed the teacup onto the table, clearly outraged.

“They are saying I am doing— doing— unclean things to one of them!” She slapped the table, “That boy isn’t even 15 years old! What kind of woman do people think I am?! I would not touch a boy, much less any of my servants! So help me God!”

The Countess suddenly couldn’t look the Marchioness directly in the eyes. She had been exactly one of those people who thought she would do just that.

“AND!” Felicia continued, “Then, I hired a retired knight to teach my son and do you know what people are saying about him and I?!”

“Er, I can’t, um, imagine…”

“They are saying I am sleeping with him!” Felicia's face reddened with anger. “Do you know why that man is retired?”

The Countess immediately shook her head.

“He lost his leg!”

“...did he really?”

“Yes! He was a very respectable knight prior to being crippled. Even afterward he had not lowered his honor, but was only looking for a job. My son is young, naturally serious fighting is out of the question. But learning from an experienced knight would be good, no? So I thought to give this excellent Fresa knight a job while giving my son an honorable man to learn from… but what do people say! They say I, Marchioness Calle Mora Fresa, am sleeping with a crippled man! At least the other rumors before this had given me the dignity of sleeping with only the healthiest, most handsome of men!”

“I hadn’t heard he was injured...” Countess Marron thought slipped out.

“So you did hear the rumors?” Felicia's shoulders drooped. “I see, no wonder you kept putting my visit off.”

The Countess covered her mouth, wishing she could slap herself.

“Marchioness, my dear, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, no…” She gave a wry smile, “I know my reputation. It’s not surprising you thought I might do those things.”

Countess Marron shook her head.

“I’ve wronged you. I should have asked you directly, but instead believed the rumors without checking.” The Countess looked extremely apologetic, “I hope you can forgive me. I won’t do it again.”

Felicia’s smile turned cheerful. “Oh, it’s fine! No need to even apologize. If I can have even one person who believes in me, that is enough.”

Countess Marron picked up her teacup, conflicted expression hidden behind it.

After a few seconds, the Countess put the cup down and hesitated. She seemed to be thinking of something. Felicia didn’t interrupt her, but drank her own tea and nibbled on the sweet crackers while waiting.

“You once asked me,” The Countess finally spoke, “if your son could visit?”

Felicia blinked in surprise.

“I did, indeed, make that request.”

“Then… if you are still interested, perhaps the next time you visit, he can come along?”

Calle’s face had a look of pleasant surprise, but Felicia was having an internal party that included wine, cake, and fireworks.

“Of course I would be interested!” Felicia only just managed to maintain appropriate levels of enthusiasm. “Do you mind if I bring the foreigner children too?”

“Foreign..? Oh yes, the playmates?”

“Mhm. They aren’t proficient at speaking our language, so it’s good for them to mingle.”

The Countess’ mouth fell open, “They… they can’t speak the language?”

“Not very well.”

“And you took them in anyway?”

Felicia chuckled, “Truthfully, I didn’t realize they couldn’t speak it. The oldest, while not fluent, knew enough to get by, so I thought the two younger ones did too. It was only afterward I realized… but I’d already brought them in, what could I do? Kick them out? So I made them into playmates for my son. They aren’t fluent in speech, but they’re quite fluent in the art of play. I guarantee your daughter will enjoy having them around.”

The Countess couldn’t help laughing slightly and then nodded.

“Please bring them then.”

“Can the oldest one come too? He’s training to be my son’s valet. Coming here would be good practice.”

“You made him your son’s valet?!”

Felicia hummed, “Him and the little ones have no family, they died in a war.”

“Oh my!”

“Since they’re foreigners, if I don’t give at least one a respectable job, it will be difficult for them to survive. What’s more, with no home to return to, they will cling even more desperately to my son, making them all very loyal.” Felicia added, “Also, the oldest is quite intelligent and I have high hopes for him. He knew how to read and write in his own language, so he was likely not a child of low status before he lost his family.”

Countess Marron was silent, this time from genuine surprise.

Two kinds of people became valets and lady’s maids: children of lower nobles or commoner families that had been working in a mansion for generations. So nobility or extreme loyalty needed to be proven to gain the position.

It was true that a child who could read and write was at least a noble by birth, but the fact that he was homeless and foreign was a big strike against him. The Countess counted herself compassionate, but even she wouldn’t take a child off the street and give them such a high ranking position. She didn’t know if the Marchioness was foolishly naive or simply confident in her decisions.

Either way, this was not a side of the Marchioness the Countess expected to uncover. It was so opposite to the rumors that it was the difference between black and white. Though her apology before had truly been sincere, she mentally reminded herself to never let people speak poorly about the Marchioness in her presence again.

She vaguely wondered, if the rumors were false this time, then what about all the times before? And if the Marchioness was such a generous person, how could such rumors spread so wantonly? That seemed…

..almost premeditated.