Chapter 539: Turns Out I Really Am His Highness's Chief Mistress
On the way to the banquet hall, Joseph couldn't shake the feeling that the nobles were still bowing respectfully to him, but their smiles seemed oddly meaningful.
He turned to Louis XVI and asked, "Father, is there something on my face?"
"Oh no, my dear, I'm certain there's not."
Louis XVI paused, then suddenly winked at his son and whispered, "About those two young ladies from the night before—did they really have a fight in your chambers?"
Joseph immediately facepalmed. No wonder everyone was giving him those strange looks. So that's what this was about!
Ah, Versailles—the place where nobody cared about serious matters, but gossip spread like wildfire.
"Ahem! Actually, they just…"
Joseph's expression turned strained. How was he supposed to explain this? Say that Catwoman felt she owed him money, sneaked in through the window instead of using the front door, and mistook his maid, who was "massaging" him, for an assassin and kicked her out of the room?
Louis XVI immediately gave him a knowing smile. "Ah, no need to explain. You're old enough now to have… adult experiences."
"It's not like that!" Joseph protested. But seeing his father's determined expression, he could only sigh. "Fine, think what you want…"
On the second floor of Versailles, the so-called "Catwoman" Sorel was nervously speaking with Baron Candice.
"So, the new dress Miss Delvaux wore was your creation?"
The baron flicked his handkerchief dramatically and nodded with pride. "Indeed, one of my finest works."
"If I may ask," Sorel said awkwardly, lowering her head, "how much did it cost to make such a dress?"
Baron Candice held up two fingers. "Miss Delvaux paid me 2,300 livres. If you're interested, I can design an even more fitting ensemble for you."
Sorel felt the world spin. Dear Lord! How could a dress cost so much?! If she'd known this earlier, she would never have turned down the Prince's generous offer and returned the 5,000 livres.
She had planned to take a short break, but now it seemed she had no choice but to go back to work—2,000 livres wasn't a small sum, after all.
Yes, when she had kicked Camellia that night, the maid's dress had torn.
In Versailles, fixing a dress was never an option; doing so would turn you into a laughingstock among the noblewomen. A ruined dress had only one fate: the garbage.
Now, she had to compensate Camellia for the dress, pay for her medical expenses, and offer a token of apology. It looked like she needed to prepare at least 3,000 livres.
The world felt clouded with despair as Sorel gloomily bid farewell to Baron Candice and set off once again to earn money.
Meanwhile, at the ball, Queen Marie Antoinette was holding onto her "chosen" daughter-in-law, offering her earnest reassurances:
"Sasha, you know how it is. At Joseph's age, especially with how exceptional he is, there will always be young ladies hovering around him. But trust me, he's not so easily swayed. I promise you."
Eight-year-old Alexandra blinked her lovely blue eyes, nodding in confusion. No matter what the Queen said, nodding was always the safest option—and besides, she wasn't wrong about the Prince being exceptional!
After dinner, Joseph decided against working overtime; he was simply too exhausted, both physically and mentally.
When he returned to his chambers, he was surprised to see Perna standing outside the parlor.
She was wearing a white… was it the lab coat he had given her? But it had clearly been altered—cinched at the waist and with an expanded neckline to accommodate her chest. Today, she wasn't binding herself, and the tailored lab coat perfectly highlighted her curves.
Her soft, wavy hair was draped over her shoulders instead of being tied up. She had replaced her usual triangular hat with the small, elegant nurse's cap he'd designed.
In short, she was the picture of youthful beauty with a touch of uniformed charm.
Joseph quickly pulled his thoughts back in line and greeted her with a smile.
"When did you return? I'm sure Lady Lamarck's birthday celebration was splendid. I would have liked to attend and give her my regards, but I've been so busy lately…"
Lady Lamarck was Perna's mother.
Perna seemed nervous. She curtsied deeply and replied, "Mother would have been overjoyed to hear that, Your Highness. It would have meant so much to her."
Joseph noticed her lingering hesitation. "Was there something you wanted to discuss?"
"Ah, yes, Your Highness." Perna quickly produced a delicate box from behind her and handed it to him with both hands. "This is a gift from Lady Lavoisier."
Joseph opened it to find an ornate golden mouthpiece for a sword scabbard, studded with over a dozen rubies.
"She sent me something this extravagant?"
"Yes… Lady Lavoisier mentioned it was custom-made for 23,000 livres."
In her pristine outfit, Perna suddenly felt awkward and out of place. She realized she wasn't cut out for being a mediator. She felt like a poorly prepared student sitting for an exam.
Biting her lip, she decided to be direct.
"Your Highness, I'd like to plead for Baron Lavoisier's pardon. He has deeply repented for his actions and is willing to pay the fines. Please, don't let him go to prison. He's a good man at heart and highly respected in the French Academy.
"If it's possible, please, on my behalf—"
Joseph slapped his forehead, suddenly remembering one of the reasons he'd returned to Versailles: to request a pardon for Lavoisier. But he'd been so busy with the rifle project that he'd completely forgotten.
If this dragged on much longer, Lavoisier might end up spending a few days in jail before the formal pardon could be issued.
Since Perna had brought it up, it was the perfect chance to do her a favor. He smiled and replied, "Very well. Since you've asked, I'll speak to Father about issuing a pardon. Please tell Baron Lavoisier he has nothing to worry about."
Perna was momentarily stunned. She had expected to spend at least a few hours pleading with the Prince, but he agreed after only a few sentences!
Her heart swelled with warmth. His Highness truly cared for her. No—this was more than just care. This was favoritism!
Her pulse quickened, and she forgot what she had intended to say. Her thoughts kept circling back to how the Prince had pardoned Lavoisier's 15-year sentence without hesitation—just for her.
So many tax collectors had been executed or sentenced to decades in prison. Lavoisier was the only one spared—and it was all because of her!
It turned out, His Highness had always held her in his heart!
No wonder Marianne had referred to her as the Prince's "chief..." Her face flushed crimson, and she didn't dare even complete the word in her mind.
How could she have been so blind to His Highness's feelings for her? She was such a fool!
Suddenly, it felt as though the whole world had brightened.
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