Chapter 102: The Folly of Pride

Chapter 102: Chapter 102: The Folly of Pride

Yvette was about to ask her son what had happened when the stream of curses beside her resumed.

"You fatherless, motherless wretch! How dare you show your face here again!"

Yvette’s expression changed.

She turned toward Melissa, her gaze sharpening as the pieces suddenly fell into place.

"The vagabond you were talking about... is him?"

Melissa, still consumed by her anger, nodded without hesitation.

"Yes! Him! Doesn’t he look exactly like some doomed, impoverished wretch?"

Yvette’s face darkened.

Melissa remained oblivious to the change in her expression. Her attention was fixed entirely on Reeve.

"You! What’s your family name? Where do you live? Who are your parents?"

Reeve continued forward until he stood directly before them.

"Lady Melissa, my family name is Alderdice. My home is on Goldenleaf Lane. My father is the Duke of Merlinspire."

The words landed with devastating simplicity.

Melissa’s eyes widened. For several seconds, her mind seemed incapable of making sense of what she had just heard.

Reeve turned to Yvette and bowed respectfully.

"Mother."

Yvette’s face remained cold.

"Hmph."

The single word struck Melissa like a clap of thunder.

Her jaw dropped.

Mother?

Mother!

He wasn’t a merchant.

He was the son of the Duke of Merlinspire—the sole heir to one of the kingdom’s most prominent noble houses.

And what had she just called him?

A vagabond.

A paramour.

She had even told Yvette that he was probably the son of some low-born mistress.

Black spots danced before Melissa’s eyes, and she nearly fainted on the spot.

Then came the crushing wave of regret.

So that’s why Elysia kept telling me he wasn’t a merchant.

She knew all along.

I simply refused to listen.

But regret quickly curdled into resentment.

Why couldn’t she have just said plainly that he was the Merlinspire heir?

That thought allowed Melissa to shift at least part of the blame away from herself.

After several humiliating seconds, she forced her lips into a trembling smile.

"Yvette..."

Yvette cut her off coldly.

"We are not that close."

Yvette’s icy reply wiped the smile from Melissa’s face.

She swallowed and immediately put on a more servile expression.

"Y-yes... Your Grace, please don’t be angry. I was simply overcome with concern for my daughter and spoke without thinking. Please, pay no attention to my foolish words..."

Her eyes drifted toward Reeve.

The embarrassment she had felt moments ago was rapidly giving way to excitement.

The sole heir to Merlinspire!

The title, the estate, the wealth—all of it would eventually belong to him.

If Lillian married him...

Melissa scarcely dared imagine the status and prosperity that would follow.

She summoned her thickest skin and turned back to Yvette with an ingratiating smile.

"Your Grace, if the two young people have taken a liking to each other, it must be fate! Surely you won’t let my careless words ruin such a splendid match?"

"Stop."

Yvette’s eyes held nothing but disgust.

"My son, with his ’impoverished, wretched appearance,’ born of a ’low-born mistress,’ would surely be unworthy of your daughter."

She deliberately threw Melissa’s own venomous words back at her.

Every syllable landed like a slap.

Melissa’s face turned crimson.

She stood awkwardly, suddenly unsure where to put her hands.

Yvette no longer spared her another glance. Instead, she turned toward Elysia and managed a polite smile.

"Thank you for your kind invitation and hospitality today. Merlinspire Manor has pressing matters. I must take my leave."

Elysia tried to detain her.

"Why so rushed, my lady? Please, try the pastries. They’re freshly made. The mulberry tarts in particular were chilled over ice—sweet, fragrant, and perfectly refreshing for a day like this."

Yvette’s tone remained cool.

"Your hospitality is gracious, and I appreciate it. But our affairs are indeed urgent."

Seeing that Yvette had made up her mind, Elysia could press no further.

She smiled gently.

"Then I’ll invite you again next time."

Yvette offered a final, perfunctory smile and turned to leave.

Reeve, still concerned about Lillian resting in the adjoining room, called after her.

"Mother..."

Yvette didn’t even glance back.

"If you no longer wish to acknowledge me as your mother, then stay."

With that, she strode away without looking back.

Reeve knew his mother was genuinely, deeply angered.

He sighed helplessly, watching her retreating figure disappear beyond the pavilion before turning to Elysia.

"Please tell Lillian not to be afraid."

Elysia nodded.

"I will."

Reeve gave her a look of profound gratitude and hurried after his mother.

Melissa, unwilling to let the matter end there, rushed after them.

She barely made it two steps before a stern-faced senior maid from Merlinspire Manor shoved her aside without ceremony.

Melissa stumbled over the pavilion threshold and went sprawling face-first into the dirt.

For several moments, she simply sat there, stunned.

Yvette, Reeve, and their entourage were already moving farther away, their figures growing smaller with every step.

Rage and regret tore through her.

Then something occurred to her.

Melissa scrambled to her feet and turned toward Elysia.

"Your Grace!"

She hurried over, her earlier arrogance replaced by desperate urgency.

"Go to Merlinspire Manor at once and apologize! This is a perfect match! We cannot let it slip away!"

Elysia regarded her coolly.

"I have done nothing wrong. Why should I apologize? Weren’t you the one hurling insults at their heir?"

Melissa’s expression stiffened.

The answer was obvious, but she had no intention of admitting it.

"This is your fault! You should have told me he was the Merlinspire heir!"

Elysia almost laughed at the absurdity.

"Did I not tell you he wasn’t a merchant?"

"You didn’t say he was the Merlinspire heir!"

"Lady Melissa, I tried several times to speak."

Elysia’s voice remained composed, but her words grew increasingly pointed.

"You were the one who interrupted me each time, never allowing me a word in edgewise. You were the one who spewed vile insults in front of Duchess Yvette herself, single-handedly destroying any chance of this match."

Her gaze settled steadily on Melissa.

"I warned you to mind your words, and you accused me of putting on airs."

Melissa’s face went rigid.

For once, she had nothing with which to answer.