Please Be Patient, Grand Duke

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the opulent carriages multiplied on the Ataer Road, each one more exquisite than the last. The nobles spared no expense in adorning their carriages with lavish decorations, eager to showcase their wealth and status as the spring season bloomed.

An imperial ball was to be held, heralding the start of the social season, and invitations had been sent to the esteemed ladies of the court. Excitement buzzed in the air as the women discussed their gowns in hushed voices, their fans fluttering rapidly, adorned with feathers of every hue. The anticipation was palpable, and the ladies eagerly made their way to the costume room, rumored to be the fastest in the capital, hoping to secure the most exquisite attire.

There was a particular rumor that piqued the curiosity of the nobles. It was said that a young lady, soon to be wedded to an archduke, would be performing her first dance at the ball. Speculation ran wild as to who the lucky partner could be.

“I think I know who it is, but I dare not speak too soon,” whispered one noblewoman to another, her voice tinged with caution.

“Could it be a princess from another country?” speculated another.

“I doubt it. I’ve heard that the Grand Duke has peculiar tastes,” replied the first, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“What do you mean?” inquired the second with curiosity.

“Well, His Highness has refused numerous marriage proposals, and it’s rumored that even the Grand Duke himself has had disagreements with the Marquis Shelby over his choice of partner. Draw your own conclusions,” the first noblewoman said with a knowing smile, ending the conversation there.

The woman and her companions exchanged meaningful glances, their thoughts aligning with one another. They all had the same person in mind.

“Prince Wade, without a doubt. The enigmatic man,” said one with a hint of amusement.

“Indeed, the one who refused to marry a princess. And rumor has it that the Grand Duke, with his imperial blood, is also captivated by him,” added another, mentioning the scandal of Canillian Vale and the Grand Duke that had spread like wildfire among the nobles.

“Speaking of which…why would they even consider attending the ball? Could it be that they have a penchant for cross-dressing as a man?” teased one of the ladies, her eyes narrowing mischievously.

The woman’s expression momentarily darkened at the joke, but she quickly composed herself, her blonde hair cascading down as she forced a smile.

“Well, even if he is a beautiful man, that’s all in the past. I’m sure he looks quite different as a woman,” she replied, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Oh, what a pity. To have never seen such a breathtaking person,” consoled another lady, her tone almost cloying in its sympathy.

Before the conversation could continue, a sudden, unfamiliar voice interjected, and the young lady’s expression stiffened as she turned towards the source. The air had shifted, and tension hung palpably, signaling that something had changed.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but please do not mention their names lightly.”

The aristocratic lady-in-waiting, draped in a pristine cloak, cast a stern warning to the noblewomen. Her face was unfamiliar to the knowledgeable young aristocrats, who exchanged puzzled glances as she stood before them, freckles adorning her cheeks with a somber expression.

Enraged by the impertinence of a maid daring to interrupt their conversation and caution them, the noblewomen bristled and rose from their seats.

“How dare you? Have you no sense of decorum? Such impertinence!” exclaimed one of the aristocrats, his disdain evident. “Who is your master?”

Instead of answering, Pepe greeted them with courtesy and took a step forward, standing tall and proud. Her sharp eyes met the narrowed gaze of the noblewoman, who was poised to strike her with her fan, but instead, fell on the brooch that secured Pepe’s cape.

It was a black diamond brooch with an eagle, the symbol of the prestigious Ihar family. The noblewoman’s eyes widened in surprise.

“My name is Pepe. Please forgive my lack of education. However, I do not think it was right to tolerate insults towards my master. I apologize, young lady,” Pepe said confidently, lifting her head despite the tension in the air.

The women who had been chatting boisterously suddenly fell silent and turned away without uttering a word or asking any questions, feigning ignorance as if nothing had occurred. In haste, the group scurried away, hobbling awkwardly with their buttocks.

The owner of the dressing room, who had been observing the exchange, approached Pepe with a dress that had been skillfully repaired.

“The difference in body shape between the original owner and the lady was quite challenging to fix, but the dress is exquisite. The fabric seems to be a precious heirloom, perhaps passed down through generations. Could it be that the owner…?”

Pepe smiled, meeting the owner’s sparkling eyes with a nod.

“You can bill the Grand Duke of Ihar for the cost,” Pepe replied confidently.

The owner was taken aback, unable to contain her joy. She realized that the dress she had repaired belonged to none other than the duchess.

With a grateful nod to the owner, Pepe made her way to the exit.

Pepe inhaled the familiar air of the capital city, a place she hadn’t set foot in for a long time, and a grin stretched across her face. While Del Casa was pleasant enough, the capital held a certain familiarity that couldn’t be matched.

“Be prepared to face the consequences if you choose to insult someone,” she muttered under her breath, the warning directed at a group of young nobles who had been speaking recklessly nearby.