To My First Love, With Regret - 48

Everyone found their assigned seats, and the reception began. Once the meal concluded, the clear, crystalline sound of a teaspoon tapping a champagne glass echoed through the vast hall. It was the signal that the groom would deliver his greetings before the party truly commenced. However, the person who rose from the head table was the bride.

Eve found the bewildered reactions of the guests amusing.

Why is everyone so surprised? This is my house, and this man is nothing but a parasite.

She was still the Lady of Kentrell. Not the doctor’s wife.

—I would like to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who joined us today, even during these grave times of war. While it would be only right to host a more magnificent affair, I could not prioritize my own joy while ignoring the sorrow of our nation. I hope this modest gathering is sufficient to convey my thanks nonetheless.

The guests, who applauded fervently at these words filled with noble duty and grace, would never know the truth: that the bride had absolutely no intention of depleting her own fortune for this marriage, and that the Ducal House’s strength was crumbling like those cliffs being eroded by the sea. Having finished the greeting that used the war as a shield to hide such facts, she took her seat.

The groom stood up next, but his greeting was unexpectedly short and formal. Eve had anticipated that the pair of parasites would secretly transform her wedding into their own.

For instance, the groom might confess a desperate love and promise a lifetime of devotion to the bride—and while the guests would assume he meant Eve, he would actually be speaking to Chantal.

Chantal was certainly the type to pull such a brazen stunt, but perhaps the Doctor hadn’t reached that level of audacity yet.

Next, it was time for the wedding party to give their toasts.

—I would like to propose a toast to Mrs. Kallas, who has made my dearest friend Owen the happiest man in the world.

The best man referred to Eve as Mrs. Kallas. At that moment, not only Eve’s face, but also Chantal’s—who sat across from her—went rigid.

The maid of honor who stood up next knew the inside story of this marriage. Emily Sutherland, a steadfast friend for the past ten years and now an indispensable ally, prayed for Eve’s happiness alone in a dual-layered and subtle tone.

As the toasts ended and Emily sat down, Eve squeezed her friend’s hand firmly. Just as they were exchanging tender smiles, the butler approached cautiously and whispered in her ear.

—I am terribly sorry, but a matter has arisen that requires your Ladyship’s judgment.

Eve rose and headed toward a corner of the reception hall with the butler. Even while hidden behind a pillar where no one was around, he reported in a voice lowered to the extreme, as if the news itself were scandalous.

—Ethan Fairchild has arrived at the manor.

—Ha, so he finally did. Did he say he wanted to see me?

—No, Milady.

—Then what?

What business could that man possibly have at White Cliff Hall besides her?

—He says he has come to move into the officers’ quarters.

—…What?

Ethan intended to live in her house.

—If he was on the list, you should have told me.

The butler surely knew who Ethan Fairchild was.

—With all due respect, he was not on the list. However, he arrived a moment ago and presented this letter, claiming he is authorized to reside at White Cliff Hall.

Eve unfolded the letter the butler pulled from his breast pocket. The correspondence was in the name of Lieutenant Colonel Vance, the head of Littlewick Airfield, the temporary air force base for Cliffhaven.

It requested permission for Major Ethan Fairchild—a core asset of the Mercian Air Force—to stay at the manor while he defended the nation. Eve’s hands trembled as she read down the official letter, which committed a senseless rudeness through polite language.

—Is this definitely Lieutenant Colonel Vance’s letter?

—I confirmed it by phone.

—My God…

Did that man not know of the ill-fated history between Ethan Fairchild and Kentrell? Or perhaps, even if he did, his hands were tied. After all, the opponent was a gang leader who wouldn’t hesitate to spray submachine gun fire at a Lieutenant Colonel’s house.

—I politely tried to persuade him that there were no rooms left and that the Ducal House would pay for his stay at Hotel La Mer, but he insists that since there are many vacant rooms in the south wing, we should give him one.

The south wing, overlooking the sea, was the private quarters of the Kentrell family. To them as children, the great manor had been a giant playground; the man who had once been her childhood friend knew the layout and circumstances of this place inside out. Including the fact that the south wing was never given to guests who lacked close ties.

Ethan Fairchild, just what are you doing?

He had always been thick-skinned, but he wasn’t a heartless robber.

Right. Ten years is plenty of time to become a robber.

But what on earth was he trying to steal by struggling so desperately to enter his enemy’s house?

—We have to kick him out.

—But if we do that, it could be misconstrued as insulting an officer and disregarding a commander’s request.

—I know. Ha… my head is throbbing.

Since the manor itself was his goal, no amount of persuasion would work. Still, she couldn’t help but attempt a conversation.

—I’ll go and speak with him myself.

Having sent the butler ahead, Eve explained to the puzzled guests why the bride had to step away.

When she mentioned that a matter regarding the officers’ quarters had arisen and required her attention, everyone was moved by her supposed generosity. Having successfully contained the rumors, she was about to exit the banquet hall when a commotion broke out at the entrance.

—I told you to move while I’m still being polite. This is your last warning.

—Major, I am sorry, but a private party for the Kentrell family is in progress. You cannot enter without an invitation.

The guards were blocking Ethan Fairchild as he attempted to force his way into the hall. Eve hurried over and confronted him.

—Let’s talk outside.

Contempt should have been Eve’s right, but it was he who looked down at her with eyes full of it before letting out a sharp, mocking laugh.

—I didn’t come here to trade pleasantries with you, My Lady. I thought I’d enjoy the party, but they tell me I can’t stay without an invitation. So, My Lady, won’t you invite me?

Where in the world would a woman invite her ex-husband—who had abandoned her—to her wedding? Eve gripped her voice, which was trembling with resentment, and shot back sharply.

—Why are you trying so hard to crawl in here?

Though he was the one who had inflicted the humiliation, he gritted and then released his teeth as if he were the victim of an insult, wearing a loathsome sneer.

—Why? Are you afraid I’ll ruin your wedding?

To think he dared call her a coward. Eve returned his shallow provocation with an arrogant, icy smile.

—I’m not afraid of you. I’m just ashamed of you.

In that instant, every trace of the smirking grin vanished from Ethan’s face.

Ashamed of me? Ah, so that’s why you threw me away. Damn it. I’m more ashamed of your hypocrisy. That great world you stand upon is actually a precarious cliff’s edge—and I’ll be the one to tear it down and show you.

The guests, who had been watching the mysterious struggle at the entrance with curious eyes, were struck with shock as a low voice, familiar to many, rang through the hall.

—I can’t believe it! To think the great House of Kentrell is too stingy to offer a single glass of champagne to an officer risking his life for the nation at the front! How utterly cold-hearted.

Ethan stared directly at Eve—who was turning even colder as she realized his scheme—and lamented loudly enough for the murmuring guests to hear.

—Ah, I hear the family’s fortunes have declined so much that you even sold off the historic Laurel Tiara. Since the Lady couldn’t even wear her own tiara at the wedding she’s dreamed of all her life, I suppose a single glass of spirits for a soldier must feel like a terrible waste. I understand.

How did this man know she had sold off even the portion of the estate meant for her? He had even exposed it in front of the high society, revealing to the whole world that the Kentrells were failing.

If she didn’t let him into the reception now, Kentrell would truly become a hollow shell of a family that couldn’t even afford to share a drink. If the rumor spread to the financial world, it would jeopardize their investments and business dealings.

Eve glared at him as if she wanted to tear into this second viper that had forced its way into her home, then turned and instructed the butler.

—Find him a seat.

The butler tactfully gave the uninvited guest a seat far from the head table and the important guests. Once the commotion settled and Eve returned to her place, the cutting of the wedding cake began.

As she held the knife together with Dr. Kallas to cut the cake, Eve never once let her gaze drift toward where Ethan sat. Whatever his goal was, she had already been drawn in enough; she had no intention of giving him further leverage.

But since Eve wouldn’t give him an opening, Ethan created one himself.

—Attention, please.

While everyone was eating cake, he stood alone with a champagne glass and proposed a toast.

—Respected guests.

Was it a habit? The crown prince of the underworld began his speech like a criminal standing before a judge.

—I, Ethan Fairchild, have come here as the first husband to grace the second wedding of Lady Evelyn.