The day Doris visited him while he was recovering, Tristan had decided to slowly and naturally let his affection for her grow, pretending to fall for her over time.
But today, during their first meeting since that visit, what exactly had he done?
Tristan tried to recall the ‘charming’ moments Doris had displayed throughout the day. He should have mentioned them or shown some sign of appreciation.
‘First of all... how was it when we met in front of the library?’
Her cheeks, flushed from singing, were as alluring as ripe summer peaches.
But he hadn’t complimented her.
Next, they watched a play together.
The way her serious gaze stayed glued to the stage, only for her to burst into an unguarded laugh at a particularly clever joke, was irresistibly adorable.
But he hadn’t brought it up.
Afterward, her critical analysis of the play and her sharp observations had left an impression.
Of course, he hadn’t acknowledged it.
When the chocolate cake passed by their table, the flash of desire on her face was utterly refreshing, and her determination to suppress it was radiant.
Even the way she carefully sliced the chocolate cake into a size that fit her bite was delightful. She showed no unnecessary greed, her movements were precise, and when a dollop of cream accidentally fell, her flustered reaction added a touch of humanity.
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Her walking posture was elegant too. No one walked as composedly, gracefully, and efficiently as she did.
‘...But I didn’t mention any of it!’
Damn it, a huge mistake. If he kept acting indifferent, there would be no groundwork to suggest he had decided to open his heart to Doris one day.
‘I still need to retrieve the letter I missed from the hunting tournament... but demanding it outright now would make me seem too shameless.’
If he hadn’t said anything, the next best thing would have been to act.
‘Did I do anything today that might’ve impressed Doris?’
One act of kindness could speak louder than a hundred compliments.
...Yet, no matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn’t think of anything he’d done that might have left a positive impression on her.
Showing off over the few coins he spent at the tea house? Ridiculous.
‘And the chocolate cake? That just made me an obstacle in some agreement between her and Natalie.’
The only thing that came to mind was his last words to her.
He had told her, “If you face anything difficult, let me know. I’ll help.”
‘But that’s something any fiancé should say. It’s not special at all!’
Even after mentally replaying the past few hours, all he could picture was her savoring those three precious bites of chocolate cake. There wasn’t a single shred of “strong, wise, and dashing Tristan” to be found. He hadn’t displayed even 10% of the charm he was supposed to.
Tristan felt an almost overwhelming urge to bang his head against the nearest tree.
‘What was I even doing today? I made time for this, and for what?’
Still, neither his pride nor his reason would allow him to sulk and go home empty-handed. If he had spent the time, he had to come to at least one productive conclusion.
Desperately digging through his thoughts, he finally remembered something Doris had said.
‘I love many things more than a slice of cake.’
A gift.
It might be a cliché, but clichés are tried-and-true precisely because they’ve been effective throughout human history.
There was one thing he knew she loved besides dessert: reading.
‘But you can’t recklessly gift books to someone who loves reading.’
That was a mistake commonly made by people unfamiliar with books.
Books are a highly subjective domain.
If someone likes sweets, you can’t go wrong with a cake or cookies. Even if you offer lemon meringue cake to a chocolate lover, they might feel a slight twinge of disappointment, but the gift won’t cause outright irritation.
However, gifting a horror novel to a romance enthusiast, or giving a book on “The Art of Efficient Warfare” to someone interested in welfare and sociology? That’s as good as throwing down a gauntlet.
‘If I don’t know her specific taste in books, it’s better to focus on one of her other hobbies.’
But how to find out what those were?
The first idea that came to mind was Natalie. But as soon as her name surfaced, Tristan dismissed the thought. No need to set off a bomb just to learn Doris’s preferences.
The next option...
Outside of family, there was only one other possibility: her friend, Maria Meyer.
Yet Maria was an awkward choice—neither quite an ally nor a rival.
‘Is it... even appropriate for me to approach Lady Meyer to learn more about Doris?’
For the first time in over a decade—perhaps in his life—the concept of social tact and consideration for someone outside the royal family blinked red in Tristan’s mind.
***
Everything seemed to be progressing smoothly.
In the morning, the maid helping Doris into her dress had said, “Miss, the dress feels a bit loose on you.”
At lunch, the music instructor teaching the young ladies exclaimed, “Everyone, you’ve improved so much since the first day! No, honestly, I’d say your performance is among the best I’ve seen from any choir I’ve taught.”
After days of practice, the young ladies had truly mastered the song, especially now that they understood the lyrics’ context and sang with confidence. The instructor’s face shone with genuine admiration.
Still, not everything was resolved.
After today’s lesson, the instructor, who had somehow become the group’s de facto leader, approached Doris.
“Have you finished revising the final song’s lyrics yet? It’s about time for the ladies to start practicing with the updated version.”
“We’re nearly done. I don’t plan to change much.”
“That’s a relief. Keep at it. At this rate, even the audience members who attend out of obligation will walk away thinking of this as their best summer memory!”
It wasn’t the kind of thing one could say in an official setting, but the sincerity behind the cynical compliment made the young ladies burst into laughter.
Now Doris was preparing to test the revised lyrics. To gauge the audience’s reaction, she needed to share the song with someone who’d hear it for the first time.
That brought her to Maria Meyer’s home—or, more accurately, the baron’s estate where Maria was staying.
The baroness greeted Doris politely.
“Ah, the young lady of the Redfield family. Thank you for showing such kindness to my niece. Maria debuted rather late, so I worry her lack of experience might cause trouble.”
“It’s quite the opposite. I’m always comforted by Maria’s warm personality. I’ve been eager to meet the people who’ve nurtured such kindness, so I truly appreciate you inviting me.”
“Hmm, well...”
The baroness smiled awkwardly, her expression betraying her forced politeness.
In truth, the baroness found Maria to be a nuisance. Having her niece as a houseguest was irritating enough, and now her friend had come to visit. Doris suspected her compliments had only landed because of her status as the daughter of an earl.
‘Being a count’s daughter does have its advantages.’
But just as Doris thought the baroness would conclude their exchange with polite formalities, the woman surprised her.
“There are so many ladies in society eager to invite you to their tea rooms. After all, you received a gift at the hunting tournament that no one else has ever had the honor of receiving.”
“Oh, you mean the magical beast?”
“Yes. I heard His Highness Tristan not only fought the beast but also commanded the guards. Do you suppose he’s been preparing for similar encounters in other lands?”
Ah, so that’s what they were curious about.
The “other lands” likely referred to the Blue Atrium.
Originally a peaceful territory meant for Tristan, rumors now suggested it might come under the northern duke’s jurisdiction due to the appearance of magical beasts.
But after Tristan subdued the beast during the hunting tournament, whispers of a “what if” had begun to spread.
It was undoubtedly an intriguing topic.
But what could Doris say?
‘It’s true that Tristan has been diligently preparing to inherit the territory, but foreseeing magical beasts? Not quite.’
She could spin a convenient lie. But judging by the baroness’s eager expression, anything she said would likely snowball into unnecessary gossip among the nobles.
In moments like these, the best self-defense was a well-crafted piece of nonsense.