The Reincarnated Noble Lady is the Infamous Viscount's Heir - I've Accepted a Contract Marriage for Estate Management. - Chapter 1.10

“How did it come to this?”

On the table in the Wilcox family townhouse’s sitting room lay two stacks of envelopes, a newspaper with a social column headline, and one particularly distinct envelope set aside from the rest.

All of these letters were addressed to me.
…Seriously? Isn’t this the time when invitations for tea parties and soirées should be pouring in for Jessica, who just made her social debut?

Yet here’s this mountain of letters, all for me. What is going on?

I know the reason: it’s because I danced three times with the Count.
At a soirée of that scale, where I hadn’t shown my face in three years, I danced three consecutive waltzes with the ever-popular bachelor, Count Vincent Rockwell. Of course, every unmarried young lady who admires him now wants to see my face. Or maybe it’s more of a “Let’s settle this, shall we?” kind of mood.

…Yeah, that seems about right. Terrifying!

Seated around the table were myself, Jessica, Percival, and my elder sister Patricia.

However, our attention wasn’t focused on the mountain of invitations brimming with resentment.
Instead, we were all staring at a single envelope.

This wasn’t the usual invitation delivered by a postman.
The envelope, made of clearly finer paper, had been delivered by a personal messenger from the sender. The wax seal, bearing a family crest, added to its ominous air.

It was impossible to ignore, yet no one dared to open it.

I diverted my gaze and picked up the Ainsworth Gazette.
Ada… She had sent me an apologetic letter after the soirée, something along the lines of, “Sorry! I tried to stop the article, but it was impossible.”

Apparently, Ada had pleaded with the editor to replace the piece, but of course, the editor chose what would sell better over the concerns of a friend.

The newspaper reported that at the recent soirée, I danced three waltzes with Vincent Rockwell, a figure of great renown in the social world.
To dance three times with the same partner at a soirée is a public declaration of intimacy.
Though I’ve only attended a handful of events like that soirée, the Count—seasoned and well-versed in social etiquette—must have known what it would mean.

As time passed, I couldn’t help but wonder if there had been a deeper meaning behind his actions.
And now, this wax-sealed envelope had appeared.

“I don’t recall doing anything inappropriate,” I muttered.
Patricia sighed.

“That’s not the point. You should assume this matter has already progressed to the next stage.”

Jessica casually picked up the envelope and began to open it with a letter opener.

“Hey! Jessica! Are you seriously about to open that!? Don’t you feel anxious about what it might say?”

“Oh, come on, big sister. You’re usually so sharp and decisive, but now you’re acting completely useless.”

“Useless!?”

“Yes! This isn’t some random letter from the postman, is it? Hans the butler said it was personally delivered by a messenger from the Rockwell family. You can’t just send it back unopened! And we won’t know what it says unless we read it!”

“Y-You’re right, but maybe it’s just a request to escort me at the next soirée, or perhaps an apology for dancing three consecutive times?”

Jessica started to argue, but Percival quickly covered her mouth before she could finish speaking.
It seemed inevitable. I would have to open it.

I glanced at Patricia.

“Jessica and Percival have a point. You can’t return it unopened. Read it.”

At Patricia’s calm yet firm words, Jessica used the letter opener to unseal the envelope. Then, she handed it to Percival, who scanned the contents and alternated between looking at me and the letter.

Patricia extended her hand gracefully, and Percival hesitantly passed the letter to her.

“What does it say? Is it an invitation to a soirée? A tea party?” Jessica asked eagerly.

Wait a moment. Why was everyone else reading a letter addressed to me?
Granted, I was too scared to read it myself, but still!

“The Count has skipped a few steps, hasn’t he?” Patricia said dryly.

What kind of unreasonable request could this be? Something related to estate management?

“It’s a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

I asked, unsure of what I had just heard.
Jessica, eyes sparkling, turned to Percival.

“A marriage proposal?”

Her gaze then shifted to me, brimming with excitement.

“Wow! Big sister Grace, I knew you’d be popular if you attended a soirée, but you’ve really caught a big one! A marriage proposal from none other than Vincent Rockwell, the most sought-after bachelor in the social scene!”

Clapping her hands together, Jessica practically jumped with excitement. Percival, however, admonished her.

“Jessica, don’t say ‘caught.’”

“How about ‘secured’?” she asked with a tilt of her head. Percival simply shook his head.

“I wish Patricia could have seen it! Everyone was mesmerized by you, Grace! Even the young ladies I spoke to at the débutante ball kept asking, ‘Do you know that stunning young lady?’ I proudly told them you were my sister. Right, Percy?”

“I won’t deny it; it’s true.”

Even with fewer appearances at soirées, Patricia must have expected me to handle this event smoothly.
And yet… here we were.

I glanced at Patricia, feeling a pang of guilt.

I’m sorry… Sister.