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Devotion was a value that took precedence over affection.
Ray still could not understand his father, who had been so preoccupied until the very end with something as sentimental and trivial as love or affection.
The woman's song was endless.
The singing, which seemed as if it would break but never did, continued to loop, draining Ray of all motivation.
He would likely never understand. Neither his father, nor that woman.
He turned on his heel, refusing to waste any more time.
* * *
It was the day of a nationwide conference hosted by the Conservative Party's central office in the capital.
Exceptionally, this time, not only the affiliated politicians but also their families and associates were permitted to attend.
Rose stepped out onto the balcony for a moment to escape the incessant political chatter of the members of parliament.
Even when she lived in Bolton, she had never been this interested in politics, but now she frequently found herself listening to foreign politicians drone on about tariffs, diplomacy, and policy.
Despite the chilly breeze from the balcony biting her cheeks, she couldn't shake the feeling that none of this felt real.
The crowds gathered in front of the building where the convention was held, and the cheers that grew louder when Ray Crawford appeared than when the Prime Minister did.
Regardless of claims that her presence endangered his reputation, his popularity still seemed formidable. In Orturan, he was more than just a minister.
She realized anew the weight of his position in this country, and just how significant the marriage she had chosen without much thought truly was.
Regardless, it was precisely because of that position that people kept flocking to talk to him, allowing her to slip away and catch her breath alone.
“How do you find the convention, Mrs. Crawford?”
Because of this, Rose couldn't help but startle when a strange man suddenly pushed aside the curtain and interrupted her solitude.
A clean-cut, middle-aged gentleman had already come to stand before her.
“I was worried you might be bored. These are all dreadfully dull stories for a lady to listen to.”
His casual manner, speaking as if they were close acquaintances, reminded her of who he was. He was the man who had given a speech before the members of parliament today.
“Ah, perhaps you don't recognize me since you haven't been in Orturan long? I am Archibald Avery.”
The man spoke first before she could open her mouth.
“…I know who you are. You are a minister of Orturan; there is no way I wouldn't know.”
Archibald Avery.
A member of the Conservative Party and the Minister of the Interior of this country. He was also the owner of the Daily Oakley Review, the newspaper that her mother-in-law, Agatha, hated so much.
In person, the man was a handsome, likable man with a soft impression. He looked to be in his mid-forties.
“I have always wanted to meet you in person.”
As much as his impression was pleasant, he seemed to be adept at striking up conversations and leading the dialogue.
“Me?”
“Ah, you may not know, but there is a connection between us that you are unaware of.”
However…
Contrary to his impression, there was something about him that felt instinctively uncomfortable. Rose suddenly recalled the warnings Agatha had given her before she came here.
Agatha had repeatedly told her to be careful. It wasn't as if she were heading into a war zone.
“A connection I'm unaware of? I'm curious.”
“For now, let's just say I am an acquaintance of your father, Mr. Davis. I'll tell you the rest once we become closer.”
She didn't particularly like his vague answer. And the fact that he knew her father didn't evoke any warmth in Rose.
“By the way, seeing you in person, you are far more beautiful.”
“…Ah, you are the owner of the newspaper that published my photo, aren't you?”
A flicker of contrived embarrassment, masked as a friendly face, crossed Archibald Avery's features before vanishing.
“Oh dear. You didn't like it much, I see. That's understandable. It was a photo that failed to capture your true beauty.”
“I don't know. Rather than that… in Bolton, it's rare for such private photos to be taken.”
Moreover, that photo had been taken on the streets of Bolton, not even in Orturan, before she had even married Ray Crawford.
The moment she recalled that fact, the man became even more grating.
“Well, your husband is such a famous figure, is he not? Everyone wants to know every move Duke Crawford makes.”
Looking at Avery's breezy smile, it seemed he felt no remorse at all.
“A newspaper must often provide the information people want, regardless of my personal tastes. It is not an easy task. Ah, I would hope you could understand that difficulty, madam.”
The man replied slyly and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips.
“Is that so? The Orturan people I've met seem to want information that is a bit more important than the sight of a woman eating fruit on the street.”
“Showing the friendly and natural side of the upper class is also an important matter.”
The man lit the cigarette and took a drag.
Exhaling a long plume of smoke with a satisfied smile, Avery pulled out another cigarette and quietly offered it to her.
As if suggesting she smoke it.
When Rose merely stared down at the cigarette thrust toward her, he tilted his head.
“Weren't you a smoker, madam?”
“…I am?”
When Rose questioned him back instead of answering, Avery's deep black eyes scanned her blatantly, as if amused.
As if he knew everything about her.
Even though Rose had not smoked a single cigarette since arriving in Orturan.
After a silence laced with subtle tension, a smile appeared on the man's face.
“Ah, I must have been mistaken. There are some ladies who enjoy smoking occasionally, so I got confused.”
There was no way a lady would enjoy smoking in Orturan.
Since he was a man who possessed photos from before her marriage, he might have picked up the fact that she had been a smoker.
It was obvious what would happen if she accepted and smoked the cigarette he offered.
Despite that, there was only one reason for the man to do such a thing.
Malice.
As the man lit his cigarette with a beaming smile, the smell of burning tobacco spread across the balcony along with the smoke.
“To hear that there are ladies in Orturan who smoke… this is the first I've heard of it.”
“Such people are generally not invited to dignified gatherings, so it is only natural that you wouldn't know.”
Ha.
Rose suppressed a scoff and looked up at the man. He still wore that friendly smile.
Even while implying that only cheap women smoke, he continued to act as if he knew nothing.
“Since you seem to know, I assume you frequent such gatherings, Lord Avery?”
“Good heavens, certainly not. However, scandals reach my ears without me having to soil my sleeves by attending such places.”
What on earth did he want?
Just as Rose was seriously wondering if this man was trying to pick a fight with her, he smiled brightly again and changed the subject.
“Do you like your husband?”
It was an incredibly abrupt and rude question.
On the other hand, it was a question that required no answer. The Orturan people called Rose a Cinderella. The only permitted answers for her would be 'yes' or 'he is more than I deserve.'
“Of course, you must be beyond satisfied. After all, he was the finest groom in Orturan, lacking in nothing.”
As if he thought so too, the man provided the answer himself without waiting for Rose's response.
“You should be grateful to me, madam.”
Just as Rose was about to frown and ask what he meant by this inexplicable credit-taking, the curtain was pushed aside.
Ray Crawford stood there, backlit by the light of the hall.
The moment she spotted him, Rose did not miss the subtle stiffening of Ray's expression.
It seemed he had managed to evade the countless people seeking him out to search for her.
“Oh dear, it seems my opportunity to monopolize the beautiful madam has come to an end.”
At Avery's words, which sounded genuinely regretful, Rose inwardly muttered, 'Ugh.'
Truly, no matter how many times she heard it, she could not get used to the Orturan way of speaking. Especially when a man this obnoxious spoke so cloyingly.
“As expected of newlyweds, Duke Crawford cannot bear to leave his wife alone for a single moment.”
“As you know, Lord Avery is not the only one curious about my wife.”
With a polite smile, Ray placed his arm across Rose's back and naturally pulled her toward him.
The way he applied subtle pressure to lead her out of the balcony and back into the hall betrayed his distaste.
Despite the formal smile he wore like an ornament, Rose could tell. This man hated Archibald Avery.
Whenever there were such events, Rose always observed Ray. Partly because there was nothing else to do, and partly because he stayed by her side frequently.
Even when dealing with the same politicians, the nuance of his smile and the amount of pressure he applied when touching Rose differed minutely.
From Ray Crawford as he faced Archibald Avery, a clear sense of dislike emanated.
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