Farce

What in the world was going on?

Lynch felt the veins on his forehead throbbing as a surge of anger immediately flared up.

A cliché right out of a novel was actually playing out in reality, and happening to him, of all people? Didn't they know this young lady was already spoken for?

No, this was revenge.

He had just stolen the Princess's first dance and stolen their spotlight. They probably knew he was close to Miss Diana, so they deliberately came out to spite and disgust him.

The problem was, having just failed, they immediately turned around to pursue Miss Diana, and both showed up at the same time right in front of him. That was practically announcing to everyone that they were out for revenge.

Did they no longer care about aristocratic bearing? Had they thrown their family reputations away?

Doing something like this just to vent their frustration—was this really how children of noble families were supposed to act?

Lynch's sharp intuition sensed that something was off. Recalling how Officer Natalie had mentioned before the ball began that several people were keeping their eyes on him and Miss Valente, he realized this matter might not be as simple as he thought. The step he had already taken paused mid-stride.

The tacky scene continued to unfold. Like peacocks fanning their tails, the two young nobles vied to display their plumage before Miss Valente. Miss Valente merely offered a faint smile and gently shook her head.

The two took turns saying something, yet the noble young lady remained completely unmoved. She barely even looked at them, her gaze fixed toward the dance floor, lost in thought.

This was already quite an impolite and firm rejection, yet the two persisted with their performance, disregarding the displeasure on Miss Valente's face. Watching from afar, Lynch's face darkened, increasingly certain that there was definitely something wrong with their attitude.

Quickly sorting through the current situation and taking stock of the cards in his hand, Lynch gave a cold sneer. He gestured to a passing waiter, whispered a few words into his ear, and then tore off a piece of paper, scribbled a few lines on it, and handed it over. Watching the waiter scurry off, Lynch narrowed his eyes, straightened his collar and cuffs, and walked over with a smile on his face.

“Miss Diana, it's merely a dance, nothing more. Although I am the secretary to His Excellency Governor Vane, I am also a viscount personally enfeoffed by His Majesty the King. Just like the Valente family, we both serve His Majesty. There's no need to damage the tacit understanding between our families over a single dance.”

“Indeed, Miss Diana. Although the Williams family is merely a viscount family and cannot match the status of the Valente family, it is still better than a commoner. Besides, he finally found a chance to latch onto the Princess and just finished dancing with Her Highness. How could he possibly dance the second dance with you right after? Waiting here for him...”

“Gentlemen, hold your words for a moment,” Miss Valente said with a half-smile, looking at the two. “I have a question.”

Delight appeared on both their faces as they stared at the beautiful count's daughter, awaiting her question.

“Over the past two years, although I have seen both of you at various events and spoken a few times, we can hardly be considered close friends, can we?” The smile on the count's daughter's face suddenly vanished, replaced by a stern expression carrying an imposing, highborn authority. “Did I ever give you permission to address me by the name Diana? Do you think just anyone has the right to call me Diana? I suggest you gentlemen think carefully. Out of respect for me, and out of respect for the Valente family, please address me as Miss Valente. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Intimidated by this sudden outburst of noble authority, the two young nobles reflexively took a step back, struck dumb and tongue-tied. The gazes of the surrounding noble young ladies made their faces burn with intense embarrassment.

The noble young ladies wore peculiar smiles, gathering together to steal glances at them while whispering among themselves. For a moment, the two felt exceedingly awkward, deeply regretting extending this invitation.

Yet something even more embarrassing immediately followed as a voice sounded from behind them.

“Diana, so this is where you were! I've been looking all over for you.”

Who the hell was this? Was ‘Diana’ a name just anyone could call her? Didn't you see we just got scolded for doing that?

The two turned around indignantly, only to see a smiling face they would not forget for a very long time.

“Lynch Levive.”

“Hm? Who are you two? Do I know you? Bizarre.”

Lynch gave them a bewildered look, shook his head in resignation, and walked straight past them until he stood before Miss Valente.

The count's daughter lightly bit her lip, concealing her smile behind her folding fan, her expressive eyes unblinkingly watching Lynch stride over.

Just as he reached her, Lynch suddenly paused, tapped his own forehead, turned around, and stepped back toward the two noble youths.

The two were utterly stunned, staring blankly as Lynch returned, completely unable to comprehend what he was doing.

And so, under their dumbfounded stares, Lynch smoothly took the bouquet of flowers from the hands of the youth named Williams. His movement was so natural that the young man subconsciously let go.

“Thank you. Thank you, Tom.”

Lynch solemnly patted the young man's arm, then turned back toward Miss Valente holding the flowers.

Behind her folding fan, the count's daughter was practically breathless with laughter. Seeing Lynch approach with the flowers, she snatched them away and glared fiercely at him.

This fellow was as infuriating as ever—just like when they first met, when she wouldn't let him sit opposite her, so he went and sat right beside her instead.

Only then did the two noble youths snap out of it. The harm was negligible, but the insult was immense; their faces turned livid with rage.

Meanwhile, Lynch had already extended his hand toward Miss Valente. “Beautiful Miss Diana, would I have the honor of inviting you for a dance?”

“Well,” the count's daughter murmured, tapping a slender finger lightly against her lips with a playful smile. “Let me think about it for a—”

“Think about what? There's no time to think.” Lynch grabbed Miss Valente's hand, turned, and took off running with her. “It's about to start! If you think any longer, we'll miss it. Let's go!”

“Hahaha, you are far too impolite!”

And so, beneath the astonished gazes of all the noble ladies and the numb stares of the two young nobles, someone boldly abducted a noble young lady, whisking her straight onto the dance floor and leaving behind only a trail of soft laughter.

Without warning, countless flashbulbs began flashing, freezing the moment in time: the eldest daughter of a count's family, holding hands with a commoner boy, stepping onto the dance floor with a smile as radiant as a blossoming flower.

The well-prepared reporters frantically burned through their film rolls, the flashbulbs at the edge of the dance floor flashing non-stop. Meanwhile, the two young nobles exchanged a glance, their eyes laced with malice.

Accompanied by the flashes of light, the two had already stepped onto the dance floor. The tune had not yet begun, and the crowd on the floor was gradually growing. They simply held hands, standing side by side, letting the reporters take photos freely.

Miss Valente merely furrowed her brows for a second before restoring her smile, showing not the slightest hint of worry on her face. It was Lynch who leaned toward Miss Valente's ear and whispered, “Did I cause trouble?”

“Not at all,” the count's daughter smiled brightly. “How could it be trouble? That you could invite me for this dance brings me great joy.”

“Really none?” Lynch sighed. “It won't affect the Valente family's reputation?”

“You've already figured it out?” Miss Valente's smile paused briefly, but quickly returned to normal. “I'm mentally prepared, and I have counter-measures. I won't let them strike at our family so easily.”

Feeling touched, Lynch squeezed the small hand in his grasp and smiled. “Do you trust me?”

“What do you think?” The count's daughter shot him a sidelong glance.

“Then leave this matter to me. I will bring this farce to a perfect conclusion.”

“It would be my honor.”

The count's daughter nodded gently, placing her other hand into Lynch's.

The music resounded, and the second dance began.