The Reincarnated Noble Lady is the Infamous Viscount's Heir - I've Accepted a Contract Marriage for Estate Management. - Chapter 1.31

Whether I’m easily swayed or not, the fact remains: in both this life and my previous one, no one has ever proposed to me.

So, when someone as attractive, cheerful, and sincere as the Earl earnestly asked me to marry him, of course I was charmed.

And now this same man, who once indirectly caused the breaking of my engagement, is associating with the woman involved in that mess—all under the guise of “work”? How am I supposed to sit idly by?!

That’s why I’ve been actively attending soirées, tea parties, and even business meetings to support Percival as the next Viscount (which, let’s face it, are practically soirées themselves).

“You look absolutely perfect tonight, Sister!”

Fully dressed for tonight’s soirée, I was adorned in a deep crimson gown, my hair swept up elegantly, and a black silk choker set with garnets around my neck.

The reflection in the mirror was the epitome of a villainess.

Sheryl and Vanessa had curled the loose strands of my hair into subtle vertical rolls, completing the look.

“Jessica, you look stunning too,” they said, nodding in satisfaction.

“Jessica, make sure to pick up any gossip about Lady Catherine tonight,” I instructed.

“Leave it to me!”

I had explained to Jessica that the Earl’s interactions with Lady Catherine were purely for work and had tasked her with gathering any rumors about Catherine from other noble ladies and wives at the soirée.

“This feels like being a spy! I’m so excited! I’ll do my best!”

Jessica was undoubtedly better suited for talking with the ladies than I was. I had high hopes for her.

“Sheryl,” I said.

“Yes?”

“I will protect the Earl, your master.”

“Lady Grace…”

I’m fully prepared to use every ounce of social skill I’ve honed in this life—perhaps as a reaction to my previous one—to succeed tonight.

When Percival arrived to escort Jessica, I expected their usual lovey-dovey antics. Instead, he froze, rendered speechless by my villainess attire.

“To protect Lady Grace from unwanted suitors… I doubt my flimsy defenses would suffice…” he muttered.

I snapped my fan shut and looked at Percival.

“Percival, your job is to deal with the pests swarming around Jessica. Don’t worry about me. Remember, the best defense is a strong offense.”

“My future sisters-in-law are just too impressive…”

What is this, a line straight out of a light novel? Well, fine. Flatter me all you want—I thrive on praise.

With that, the three of us boarded the carriage and headed to tonight’s soirée venue.

As for the letter I sent to Abigail, her reply arrived promptly, as expected of my capable sister.

According to her, Claude’s cause of death was magical—his brain functions had been shut down. It appeared he’d been under some form of long-term mental magic, which caused enough strain on his brain to ultimately kill him.

Abigail noted that, decades ago, such deaths were not uncommon in the red-light district.

While not an attack per se, some courtesans who possessed charm magic would use it for prolonged periods to attract patrons. The magic’s effects would drive men to visit repeatedly, but the cumulative strain on their minds could result in sudden death.

Nowadays, even the red-light district regulates such practices, as losing paying customers isn’t good for business.

Sighing, I realized this explanation would likely satisfy the gendarmerie. They’d investigate the district’s compliance and close the case without looking further.

If this were true, then any theories about Claude blackmailing Catherine or extorting hush money from the Brocklebang family would go uninvestigated.

The narrative would simply be: a disowned playboy lived off family funds, spent it all on courtesans, got enchanted, and died. Case closed.

Still, dying from a courtesan’s charm magic? How much of a womanizer was he?

Jessica had been attending lower-ranked noble soirées for the past few days, gathering only general information about Catherine’s past—nothing substantial.

I didn’t want to involve Jessica in anything too risky, so I told her not to push herself. Still, she seemed dissatisfied with her results.

“But tonight’s soirée is hosted by Marquis McFarlane! A lot of my peers will be there!”

“Take it easy, okay? Just gather information as a side task while socializing.”

Jessica, however, was proving to be a social prodigy. Already, she had secured invitations to the season’s soirées, including ones hosted by high-ranking nobles.

Jessica… what a terrifying girl!

Tonight’s venue was Crescent Palace, commonly used for large-scale soirées by high-ranking nobles.

The McFarlane family, who were hosting tonight’s event, had once taken in Lady Estelle, the girl the Earl had escorted during a previous soirée. Estelle was the one whose wine glass I’d confiscated.

Jessica informed me that the soirée was being hosted by Marquis McFarlane, the father of Lady Filia, who was beloved by both high- and lower-ranking nobles during her time at the academy. Lady Filia had even been considered as a candidate for the Crown Prince’s fiancée.

Marquis McFarlane prioritized connections with other nobles over ties to the royal family, leveraging his estates’ specialty goods and joint ventures with other houses to build a powerful faction. Even dukes respected his influence.

That might explain why I received a personal invitation.

The letter had been polite, subtly implying a desire to strengthen ties after the aid I had provided to his daughter.

“Lady Wilcox, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” greeted Marquis McFarlane.

“Thank you for your kind invitation, Marquis McFarlane.”

The marquis was a dignified gentleman, his gray hair lending him an air of sophistication. Was this what they called a “silver fox”?

“My daughter mentioned how you helped diffuse a situation involving Lady Estelle during a recent soirée,” he said.

“It was nothing. I only stepped in because I have a younger sister myself and couldn’t help but worry.”

Behind the marquis, Lady Filia smiled graciously at me.

“I’ve been eager to speak with you, Lady Wilcox. Your viscountcy has become quite prominent recently, much like the Mayfield family’s in the textile industry,” the marquis continued.

Smooth words, flawlessly delivered—truly the mark of a high-ranking noble.

However, his tone shifted.

“I hear you’re engaged, but I’ve also caught wind of other rumors.”

Ah, he must mean the situation with the Earl. Should I explain? No, he said it was work. I decided to maintain a composed, enigmatic smile.

“Men often have their own reasons for their actions. For me, being jilted once or twice is no big deal compared to the collapse of a business partnership.”

The marquis seemed impressed, perhaps by the strength I conveyed.

“If only Andrea had your resilience,” murmured Lady Filia.

The conversation eventually led to an interesting revelation: the Earl was attending tonight’s soirée with Lady Catherine.

This soirée was one of the largest of the season, so it wasn’t surprising.

I resolved not to interfere with the Earl’s work while focusing on finding someone who might know more about Claude.