The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 68: The Hardest Part

Chapter 68: The Hardest Part

Rosalie found her repose in a cozy rocking chair beside the crackling fireplace while Aurora, her dear and loyal friend, occupied the adjacent seat, wholly engrossed in her delicate flower embroidery.

Lost in her reverie, a pronounced furrow marked the expanse between Lady Ashter’s brows. With an air of intensity, she diligently inscribed her thoughts onto the aged, yellowed pages of her notebook, yet, her efforts culminated in a series of frustrated gestures, scratching out all traces of her previous work.

Concern for her mistress’s delicate fingers and the unfortunate fate of the notebook compelled the maid to suspend her own tasks. She ventured to address the matter with genuine apprehension, her voice a blend of care and curiosity,

"Pardon me, My Lady, but might something be troubling you? You have been vigorously fighting with your notebook for quite some time now."

As though emerging from a trance, Lady Ashter lifted her head, her gaze still somewhat clouded. Nonetheless, she nodded, her countenance displaying no perturbation.

"Princess Angelica and I have reached a decision to establish a charitable initiative jointly. We plan to initiate our efforts on the day I regain my title and access to my personal funds."

When Rosalie mentioned this topic to Angelica, the princess was overly excited by the prospect of both doing something meaningful with her life and spending more time with her dear friend while working together. Although Angelica expressed eagerness to dive in immediately, Rosalie adeptly moderated her enthusiasm; instead, she encouraged the princess to embark on preparatory research, advocating consultation with experienced Imperial Counselors. The creation of a sustainable fund intended for continuous assistance to the underprivileged warranted a measured approach and impulsive haste was unnecessary.

"This is wonderful, My Lady! As anticipated, your generosity has no limits!"

Upon receiving Rosalie’s response, Aurora’s hands came together in a jubilant dance of excitement. Leaning in, she cast a glance into the notebook that had narrowly escaped ruination, and proceeded,

"Was all that fervent scribbling dedicated to the cause of charity work? It’s quite intriguing how such an endeavor managed to provoke such a distressed atmosphere."

In response, Lady Ashter sighed, put the notebook aside, and shook her head – the source of her distress was, in fact, more complicated. If one could truly say so.

The conversation between her and Princess Angelica extended beyond their philanthropic ambitions. Curiously, the conversational currents redirected themselves toward Rosalie and the Grand Duke. This shift led Angelica to embark on a fervent inquiry, delving into the intricate details of their relationship. Amidst the princess’s relentless questioning, a revelation finally dawned upon Rosalie— she had, in fact, propositioned Damien for a date! This epiphany injected a palpable unease within her. More so, given the potential implication that her drunken proposal could have spurred the duke’s vexed demeanor during his combat session with Sir Logan.

"I’ve spent the entire evening thinking... Where could His Grace and I venture for a date?"

The inquiry might have struck others as peculiar, but for Lady Ashter, particularly in her current circumstances, it held a valid concern. After all, the novel scarcely detailed the most enticing rendezvous spots within the Capital’s elite circles. In her pressing need for guidance—any form of guidance at that—she was willing to explore various avenues.

After musing over her lady’s query for a brief interlude, the maid’s countenance bloomed into a smile. Her response resonated with an air of enthusiasm as she shared,

"Why not consider the Harvest Festival? It presents a splendid opportunity! The entire Capital transforms into a realm of revelry. What’s more, with the mandatory mask attire for all attendees, you could effortlessly remain unnoticed, concealed from the scrutinizing gazes of fellow nobles. This concealing veil could indeed introduce an element of enigma and allure!"

Rosalie’s eyes widened, a blend of excitement and vexation washing over her—how had the Harvest Festival eluded her memory?

Within the narrative of "Acme Fever," the Harvest Festival held a significance nearly akin to the Empire’s Funding Day or the Celebration of Religious Unity. Its grandeur spanned the Empire, yet the Capital claimed the central stage. Regardless of social status, individuals came together, celebrating both a bountiful year past and eagerly anticipating the one ahead, replete with hope for even greater productivity.

Decorated in the warm hues of autumn, the Capital adorned itself for the occasion. The festivities commenced at daybreak, unfolding across the subsequent twenty-four hours. A myriad of celebrations and activities awaited the visitors, encompassing a spectrum of experiences. Notably, the pinnacle event was the enchanting illumination of the magical lanterns, blessed by none other than the esteemed High Priest. The whispers went that these very lanterns possessed the power to metamorphose dreams into reality.

’Undoubtedly, the Festival would serve as an incredible setting for our outing, even if it is purely a friendly date.’

Gratitude radiated from Lady Ashter’s smile as she conveyed her acknowledgment with a nod.

"Aurora, you are a genius! This is a truly splendid suggestion."

Responding with a serene smile, the maid eased back in her chair, her voice assuming a wistful quality as she continued,

"Ah, to be enveloped by such profound affection, to share in a love so deep that a romantic celebration amidst the festival’s splendor becomes reality..."

Rosalie found herself chuckling at the earnest yet subtly envious expression,

"Well then, might there be someone who has captured your heart?"

"You jest, My Lady! Haha. How could I ever hope to attract anyone?"

The girl’s eyebrows curved in genuine puzzlement, hemmed in by the maid’s pointed words, affording her little room to maneuver.

"How so? You possess height and beauty. I’ve taken note of a certain butler who seems quite taken with you. He’s perpetually in your vicinity, offering aid that you clearly don’t require. I’ve observed your playful exchanges, both parties engaged!"

Clearly embarrassed by such directness in stating the facts about her seemingly discreet attempts at flirting, Aurora covered her mouth with both hands and let her face overcome with the brightest color of red, while mumbling something incoherent about her lady being too much.

Lady Ashter observed in hushed contemplation the subdued wrestle within her maid against the constraints of her own shyness. A heartfelt smile, brimming with unadulterated joy, adorned her lips. The drastic transformation in Aurora’s demeanor, as she transitioned into a phase of unwinding and embracing life’s pleasures, resonated deeply with her lady’s sentiments. The Ashter estate, cloaked in a perennial shroud of darkness and despondency, had rendered the staff nearly akin to prisoners. Hence, the striking metamorphosis within Aurora held an exceptionally gratifying significance.

In an impulsive motion, Rosalie gracefully inclined her body toward her maid, her voice laced with playful intrigue,

"Aurora, would the concept of embarking on a festival date pique your interest as well?"

Taken aback by her lady’s bluntness, Aurora’s eyes widened, and she responded with an almost frantic energy, shaking her head and hands in tandem, as though striving to shake off that seemingly outrageous proposal.

"Oh, my lady, I couldn’t possibly! The head maid has generously apportioned my workload, and I dare not seek time off on such a significant day. Besides, I implore you, refrain from intervening on my behalf. The specter of favoritism might invoke reprimand."

While Aurora’s reaction might have appeared overly dramatic, Rosalie recognized the underpinning rationale. Despite the comparatively accommodating and nurturing ambiance within the Duke’s estate in contrast to the Ashter residence, she held a fervent wish to preclude Aurora from any unfavorable consequences due to perceived favoritism. Thus, with a tacit understanding, Rosalie merely nodded in concurrence. Settling into her rocking chair, she observed Aurora return to her embroidery, humming a lighthearted and melodious tune.

’Well, now comes the hardest part—summoning the courage to ask Damien out again.’