The Reincarnated Noble Lady is the Infamous Viscount's Heir - I've Accepted a Contract Marriage for Estate Management. - Chapter 1.32
The Crescent Palace party was so expansive that even if the Earl and Lady Catherine were present, locating them amidst the crowd would be nearly impossible. High-ranking nobles, low-ranking nobles, their factions, business-related attendees, ladies, and debutantes—all formed distinct cliques. There were separate spaces for dancing and a buffet, adding to the complexity.
Jessica, for her part, was currently enjoying a dance with Percival. Even while spinning across the dance floor, she seemed to be carefully observing groups of young ladies, likely deciding which ones to approach next for information.
And me?
I was surrounded by businessmen discussing various ventures.
“Honestly, I was quite surprised to hear about your engagement to Lord Rockwell, a military man with no connection to this circle,” one gentleman remarked.
“Indeed, an engagement isn’t marriage yet. Viscount Wilcox, isn’t it worth reconsidering?”
“Precisely. Many young, unmarried entrepreneurs would be delighted to have someone of your caliber. Perhaps you might consider my son?”
The glances I was receiving from ladies and noblewomen across the room were piercing.
Their eyes seemed to scream: Why is the Viscountess flirting with other men when she’s engaged to the Earl?! Or worse: Is she planning to break off her engagement to Lord Rockwell?
But glaring alone won’t kill me.
When I glanced at them over my fan, the ones I made eye contact with quickly averted their eyes. No one dared speak up, likely fearing they’d be the next target of my “villainess aura.”
Being a villainess has its perks.
Even a whispering war of insults would end if I stepped forward and asked, “Is there something you’d like to say?” They’d likely be reduced to tears. If I added, “Your fake crying is quite impressive; I should take notes,” they’d probably collapse, leaving their partners scrambling to calm me down.
I’ve already done this a few times at recent parties.
“But an engagement to Lord Rockwell? Compared to that disowned former heir of the Auteret family, this seems almost destined,” one man commented.
“That’s true. Speaking of which, what happened to that former heir?”
“I heard he was found dead recently,” another remarked cautiously, glancing at me.
I nodded.
“Yes, his cause of death was undetermined,” I replied evenly.
Their expressions shifted to mild shock—She knows about this?
“I understand the Magic Academy has taken over the investigation. My sister, Abigail Wilcox, the Mage Countess, shared the details with me. The cause of death has since been determined. I’d advise you all to exercise caution,” I added.
The businessmen exchanged awkward smiles. As an unmarried viscountess nearing the edge of marriageable age, my remarks were unconventional—something a typical noblewoman wouldn’t say.
“Was it not an illness?”
“Given the location, that seems unlikely…”
I kept my inner thoughts—Serves him right—to myself and maintained my composed demeanor.
The men seemed to regard me less as a woman and more as an equal in business, which was fine by me.
“It appears he died due to long-term exposure to charm magic, which caused fatal strain on his brain,” I explained. “But I find it puzzling. I can’t imagine where Claude would have obtained the funds to frequent such a place.”
“That’s true.”
“His family were clerical nobles, not landowners or businessmen like us.”
“Perhaps his mother supported him despite his disinheritance?”
“Unlikely. Even for a disowned son, it’s hard to believe she’d fund his vices.”
“Exactly. It’s a mystery who supported someone like him,” I said.
One of the gentlemen suddenly spoke up. “Oh, Baron Kimble might know something. He’s here tonight, isn’t he?”
Baron Kimble? That lecherous old man who once dragged one of my classmates into the Crescent Palace gardens for his questionable advances?
Though a notorious womanizer, the baron does possess a certain business acumen and wealth for someone of his rank.
I decided to investigate. As I made to leave, one of the men called out.
“Viscount Wilcox, are you truly planning to speak with Baron Kimble?”
“Be cautious. Once he’s had a drink, he tends to lose all restraint.”
Were they… worried about me?
“I’m simply curious about someone who could afford to support a disowned nobleman,” I replied before heading off to find the baron.
If Claude had been close to Kimble, the talkative Claude might have let something slip.
On the terrace overlooking the garden, I finally spotted him.
Baron Kimble was attempting to charm a young lady, leading her toward the gardens.
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Young ladies, stop following men just because they look charming!
As I followed, I heard the girl’s voice protesting.
“Someone, help!”
“Raising your voice will only embarrass you later,” the baron retorted smugly.
This man is beyond shameless.
“Baron Kimble,” I called sharply.
He froze, and the young lady glanced at me with visible relief.
“I need to have a word with you,” I said.
The girl quickly ran to my side, tears in her eyes. I instructed her to inform Jessica and Percival about the situation, and she nodded repeatedly before scurrying off.
Failed again, didn’t you, Baron?
“Still as persistent as ever, aren’t you, Baron Kimble? I have some questions for you.”
“Ah, Viscount Wilcox! For someone once engaged to the most eligible bachelor in society, you certainly still hold a torch for your former fiancé. Or perhaps you have feelings for me? If so, I should oblige you!”
As he reached for me, I smacked his hand with my folded fan.
Disgusting. Absolutely revolting.
“You’re mistaken, Baron. I’m asking about my former fiancé’s death. Do you know the cause? If you continue harassing young ladies, you might meet a similar fate. It’s said you and Claude Auteret were close until recently.”
Rubbing his hand where I’d struck him, the baron looked at me with a mix of amusement and irritation.
“What do you want to know?”
“Did you financially support him?”
“Why would I waste my money on such a useless fool?” he scoffed.
Yet, if he was associating with Claude, he wasn’t much better.
“I’m trying to understand how Claude managed to have enough money to spend time with someone like you.”
The baron sneered. “Ah, a sharp one, aren’t you? No wonder you wrested control of your family from your father. That man claimed to hold some ‘secret’ of a wealthy benefactor. I suspect he blackmailed them, flaunting his connections to the rich and powerful.”
Blackmail. As expected.
Before I could process further, the baron grabbed my arm and began pulling me along.
“What are you doing?!” I demanded.
“You’ll do as a substitute. You’re not quite my type, but your body seems adequate,” he sneered.
“Let go of me!”
“Quiet, woman!”
A sharp sting spread across my cheek.
He slapped me.
“I’ve always disliked you. But women like you… I know how to make them listen.”
Help! Someone, please! Jessica, Percival—where are you?!
Your sister’s in serious trouble here!
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