There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 61

If Preston’s Royal Palace and Golden Bay Palace were lofty sunflowers blooming through endless restraint and reflection, Neway’s Royal Palace was a lavish rose in full bloom, steeped in human luxury, pleasure, and unbridled indulgence. 

Among the lavish interior decorations, far removed from any notion of abstinence, were paintings that made Vivianne blush and statues so indecent she could hardly look at them.

As Vivianne navigated this path, her nerves frayed as her turn to meet the King and Queen approached.

To make things worse, members of the social elite, who had gossiped about the recent ball, snickered while glancing at her. Her mind was a mess. She felt queasy and kept clutching her chest in discomfort.

“This is an event I brought you to as my partner. So make an effort.”

At the curt voice that came down to her, she pressed her lips shut in frustration. She wasn’t expecting any concern, but she did wish he wouldn’t push the burden of this role onto her, especially since she had no desire to attend the Queen’s birthday celebration in the first place.

“Smile, Vivianne.”

A man who seemed close, yet never truly was. His whisper, once near her ear, drifted away again.

If ever there was a fool who expected something from a man who could never truly be close to her, it was the very woman standing here, escorted by Edwin.

At last, it was their turn. Even without Edwin’s pressure, now that she was here, she was determined to do her best. 

This was tied directly to her parents’ reputation. So mistakes were not an option.

The two stood before the King and Queen. The audience chamber echoed with Edwin’s clear, confident voice.

Every time she saw this side of him, she was reminded of the day they first met.

After a brief exchange with Edwin, the King and Queen’s attention naturally turned to Vivianne.

From the Queen’s hostile and piercing gaze, Vivianne realized she was not being welcomed. The reason didn’t need deep thought, but it bounced off her like a buoy.

Vivianne calmly responded, answering some of the couple’s questions. 

They were very formal answers: that she had not been able to contact her father or mother, and that she had avoided a crisis thanks to the Duke of Baytness’s broad generosity.

After what felt like an eternal audience, she finally turned to leave, and the cold sweat that had beaded on her forehead began to cool. Vivianne gently pressed her damp forehead with the back of her hand.

As she panted for breath, a large hand suddenly appeared before her.

Once her blurry vision cleared, she realized he was holding a handkerchief—or rather, a scarf.

Once, it had been a warm and lovely thing that wrapped around her neck on a chilly autumn day. Another time, it had kindly hidden the bruise left on her neck from being choked. 

It was the same scarf that had been the cause of Charlotte’s misunderstanding.

And now, it had gone to a new owner and changed its purpose.

You’ve had a wretched life, too, she thought.

Vivianne almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of her thoughts while looking at a mere scarf.

Vivianne took the scarf—no, now a handkerchief—from him. But instead of using it to wipe away the sweat, she simply held it tightly in her hand.

Then Edwin snatched the scarf from her grip and gently wiped her forehead himself.

This rough gentleman, who had no interest in a lady’s situation, managed to wipe off her carefully applied makeup in one go, committing a minor disaster.

Horrified, Vivianne grabbed Edwin’s hand and pulled it down. Her already sensitive gray eyes flared quietly with anger.

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“I heard it myself recently. A maid who used to work at Rodinia Castle said the exact same thing—that Aveline worked as a maid there.”

“So it’s true? Oh my goodness!”

On the first night of the party, during the grand banquet, the noble ladies laid Edwin and Vivianne out on the chopping block. 

Meanwhile, the main characters currently shaking up high society were calmly enjoying their meal.

“They say the Duke made Aveline do the hardest and dirtiest tasks. But do you know why?”

This was gossip about none other than the Duke of Baytness, a man typically shielded from any scandal. Even husbands, usually indifferent to gossip, leaned into this particular story, fascinated.

“Because Aveline kept trying to crawl into the Duke’s bedroom.”

Oh my! Goodness!

The ladies covered their mouths in shocked silence.

“The Duke, who kept refusing her, eventually lost his temper with Aveline’s persistence and gave her all the tasks no one else wanted to do.”

To those in Neway, Prestonians were often seen as rigid, uptight, and dull, both in appearance and character. So the outrageous behavior of the esteemed Marquess of Aveline’s only daughter sparked even more interest among the noblewomen.

Even so, some couldn’t help but question things.

“Then why is the Duke acting like this now? It’s not enough that he keeps Aveline around—he’s dressing her in fine gowns and jewels… Didn’t the Duke practically empty out Mrs. Green’s boutique? Anyone can see he’s trying to win his lover’s favor. And honestly, Aveline looks far more like a noble lady than a servant.”

The mood, which had just been eager to pick apart Vivianne’s flaws, was suddenly doused with cold water. No one could argue with the undeniable truth, so they awkwardly cleared their throats. Still, they couldn’t help sneaking glances at Aveline—the woman at the center of it all.

Vivianne Aveline was beautiful enough to stir envy and jealousy. The slight fullness in her figure created graceful curves, and her skin glowed with a pale radiance. Her bright blonde hair, a signature of the Aveline family, and mysterious gray eyes gave her an air of allure and distance.

Her upright yet elegant gestures only widened the gap between her and everyone else, as if she belonged to a higher social class.

The ladies, who had just turned their gazes away, happened to catch their husbands staring at Vivianne as she calmly cut her steak into bite-sized pieces. Pinched hard on their thighs under the table, the husbands swallowed their groans and composed themselves.

“With a beauty like that throwing herself at him, what man could hold up his shield forever? The Duke is, after all, just a man.”

Everyone agreed with the woman’s opinion.

“But surely, it’s just a passing fancy. Otherwise, he wouldn’t keep a lover amidst such scandal.”

“The Duke must have made a wise decision. No matter how young or pretty she is, fleeting things shouldn’t make one lose their mind to the point of taking her as a wife.”

“Miss Chadwick is the one to pity—a husband who keeps a mistress even before marriage.”

“Chadwick doesn’t even know yet, does she?”

“In any case, what matters is that the Duke has no intention of making Aveline his Duchess.”

“Oh dear, just thinking about how I treated Aveline so warmly at the ball, not knowing any of this, makes my stomach turn.”

“You think I’m any different?”

The noblewomen continued whispering among themselves, relentlessly gossiping about Vivianne.

Thrown into the center of the harsh and unforgiving world of high society, Vivianne sat and ate her meal with a face surprisingly calm—an expression more indifferent than expected.

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After the banquet, Edwin had a private audience with the King.

Most of their conversation centered around the Baytness Arms Company, the peace treaty, and issues of monopoly.

The discussion branched out in many directions but ultimately arrived at one conclusion: to convert the Baytness Arms Company from a private enterprise into a public, state-owned one.

The King, at times coaxing and at others slightly threatening, alternated between persuasion and pressure in his efforts to draw a positive response from Edwin.

Instead of expressing his displeasure, Edwin ended the conversation by delaying a definitive answer.

Afterwards, Edwin attended a men’s social gathering and listened to the idle chatter of men drunk on liquor and cigars, as well as talks of politics, society, sports, and occasionally, women.

Among the attendees, he spotted a few familiar faces from the day of the Rodinia Castle auction. Still, with rumors already circulating in Farrington, no one dared to bring up Aveline.

Bathed in the hazy smoke of cigars, the men bonded over their shallow friendships and made meaningless promises for the future.

Growing increasingly bored, Edwin frowned as the clock struck the hour.

Just as someone offered him a cigar, Wellwood made an appearance at the men-only affair.

Edwin accepted the cigar.

Wellwood seemed to be scanning the room for a seat, and upon spotting the empty one next to Edwin, he approached and sat down.

“You’re quite the actor, Lord Wellwood.”

“Acting is essential in state affairs. Otherwise, you’ll end up on the guillotine.”

Wellwood, a middle-aged man with a calm impression, called over a servant with a cold gaze and accepted a glass of wine.

“It seems I met a very different man two years ago.”

“I was there when your mother gave birth to you. You cried so loudly, your brothers were already scared of their baby brother.”

“It feels strange… being seen as a Raven by someone.”

Wellwood smirked and set his glass down. The glass had served its purpose—just a prop to avoid looking out of place. Then, as he took out a cigar, clipped the end, and lit it, his expression visibly relaxed.

Cigars over wine.

Edwin finally understood why thoughts of Wellwood from his childhood were shrouded in smoke.

“Imagine how I feel—Damian’s youngest son, presumed to be dead, is alive and well. And not just anywhere, but as the Duke of Baytness in Neway. Hah. Life really is full of surprises.”

Wellwood tapped the ash into the tray and took a deep drag from the cigar.

The tip of the cigar glowed red.

The thick smoke he exhaled soon thinned and floated silently into the air.

“So, have you found a way to open the port?”

“Mayr is a meticulous man. In other words, he’s fearful and easily spooked. Just the thought that he may have lost track of you has weighed on him all this time. Everyone else says you’re dead—but he’s the only one who believes you’re alive.”

“Mayr has good intuition.”

“I believed him, too—at least until I learned your true identity. So yes, you could say his instincts are sharp. But don’t act too rashly. When we find a way to open the port, I’ll contact you right away. How’s the arms supply coming along?”

“Because of the peace treaty you took the lead in signing, the King now uses it as leverage to interfere with the company. That means more eyes are on us, so we’ll reroute the new weapons being supplied to Erelem. This side of things will likely take a while as well, so let’s agree not to rush each other.”

Wellwood slowly nodded.

A tense silence filled the space between them.

Through slow breaths, the sweet wine scratched its way down their throats.

“By the way, what are you planning to do with Miss Aveline? Lord Corbin seemed worried. I think he’s quite concerned about her as he was once a close friend of Lawrence’s.”

With the smoke, a sigh escaped—and with the sigh, Aveline’s name floated into the air.

The wine Edwin swallowed tasted just like Vivianne.

The day in the carriage—when she had bitten him—when he couldn’t hold himself back and tasted her skin.

He recalled the feel of her skin in his mouth, the burning desire that surged with each bite.

Edwin knew that if he went further down, he would find a deeper fragrance—a sweetness so sweet it could blind him. That day had been both a threat and a temptation, and now his patience hung by a thread.

What happened in that carriage had been more than dangerous.

“Does Miss Aveline know about Lawrence? Well… if she did, she wouldn’t be so calmly following you around, would she?”

A cold gleam flashed in Edwin’s eyes.

He took another sip of wine, and once again, the memory of Vivianne’s skin returned to him.

“Who knows.”

The unforgettable memory had carved a deep scar, so deep that it was impossible to find the right time, the perfect moment, to confront it.