The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate
Chapter 63: Accidental Spill (?)

Chapter 63: Accidental Spill (?)

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Esme was making her way back to the palace when she ran into the royal seamstress who had just arrived. The seamstress, who was a stout woman with a kind face, lowered her head in a polite bow as Esme approached, and she smiled at her before offering her greetings.

A maid, who had stepped forward to usher the seamstress into the palace, noticed Esme and said, "Milady, it’s time for you to pick your wedding dress." Her tone was polite, and Esme’s gaze became riveted on the maid and the seamstress. Her stomach did a nervous flip as she struggled to process the reminder of her impending nuptials.

"My wedding dress?" She asked for confirmation, and the seamstress nodded.

"The day of your wedding draws near, Milady," the seamstress reminded her. "So it’s essential that we begin trying on the gowns I’ve brought today. May we proceed inside?" she asked, and Esme couldn’t help but nod, resigned to her fate. She knew she would have to play along with this charade until she can make her escape tomorrow.

Still, a pang of guilt struck her at the thought of wasting a beautiful wedding dress on a union she no longer desired.

"Let’s go," Esme walked ahead, with the maid and the seamstress following closely behind. When they arrived at the dressing chamber, Esme realized she was not the only one who needed a dress, cause the same blonde she welcomed earlier today was busily rummaging through the dresses.

Emily’s hands stilled when Esme arrived, and she turned to offer a smile before lowering her head dutifully.

"Lady Esme, I hope you don’t mind if I join you in selecting a few ensembles?" Emily requested, her eyes already scanning the array of dresses in front of her. Her fingers hovered over a few that had caught her attention, and she wasn’t the least bothered by her intrusion.

Esme was more stupefied by her sudden presence. Sensing her bafflement, the royal seamstress hastened to intervene, "Miss Emily, I must explain that these outfits I’ve brought are specifically designed for Lady Esme’s upcoming wedding with the king. If you’re interested in acquiring some dresses yourself, I can arrange for my apprentice to send a few more options tailored to your preferences."

"Oh," Emily’s expression fell, her disappointment evident. "What a shame," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of pique. "I think these outfits are truly pretty and exquisite. I had hoped to find one that suits me amongst them. His Majesty has given me permission to be here, after all. Honestly, I believe his orders grant me every right to be here, unless of course, Her Ladyship here objects to my presence."

Emily’s gaze locked into Esme’s steady ones, a subtle challenge underlying her words.

"His Majesty gave you permission?" The seamstress asked, her tone laced with pure incredulity as her eyebrows shot up in surprise. The notion was unheard of, as a bride’s wedding dress selection was a sacred, solitary experience, a cherished memory to be preserved.

Esme couldn’t believe the king actually gave a guest permission to be here. If she were any other bride, she would deeply be offended by this affront, as it is a blatant disregard for her special day.

Though Esme didn’t truly care about the wedding or its trappings, a faint sense of indignation stirred within her.

"It’s fine," Esme said before the seamstress could politely persuade Emily to take her leave. "It’s fine, really. There are plenty of dresses to go around. If Miss Emily wishes to browse through them, I have no objection." she granted her consent, and Emily’s expression fell, her smile forced and strained.

"Very well, then," Emily turned her back to Esme to rummage through the dresser, her scowl evident as she realized her plan to rile Esme up had failed. No self-respecting woman would allow her day to be disrupted so cavalierly, and she had even name-dropped the king to emphasize her connection to him, yet Esme had taken it all in stride.

The seamstress and maid quickly attended to Esme, presenting her with a selection of exquisite gowns crafted specifically for the wedding. Esme perused them, running her fingers over sumptuous fabrics, and her blue eyes scanned each dress with a discerning gaze.

Though each gown was a masterpiece, none of them stirred any particular enthusiasm within her.

"What about this one, Milady?" The seamstress revealed another stunning gown, her hands fluttering as she elaborated on its feature.

"This dress is crafted from the finest chiffon, and the intricate beading around the neckline will beautifully accentuate your porcelain skin. Would you like to try it on?" The maid beside her nodded in agreement, her eyes encouraging Esme to take the seamstress’s suggestion.

Emily observed from the corner where she stood, a pang of frustration creeping in the more she watched them. It seemed to her that the seamstress and the servant were lavishing attention on Esme, while ignoring her.

"Enjoy the little attention while it lasts, Esmeray Montague," she muttered, a hint of resentment in her tone.

Meanwhile, Esme had donned the chiffon gown, the fabric draping elegantly over her figure. Though the dress was undeniably flattering, and her two companions loved it, her expression remained indifferent, her lack of interest palpable. Despite this, she decided to settle on the snow-like chiffon wedding gown, not because she was enamored with it, but because it seemed to be the most convenient choice.

"I’ll take this one then," Esme said, handing the gown to the seamstress, but before she could take it, disaster struck. A glass of juice splashed onto the dress, sending it tumbling to the floor in a heap. The maid let out a shocked gasp, and the seamstress’s face blanched as she took in the scene.

All eyes turned to Emily, who was holding an empty glass cup, her feet still recovering from a stumble on the carpet. "Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry!" She exclaimed. "I didn’t mean to... I slipped, and this happened. Let me wash it for you."

Esme stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the dress now stained and soiled. The seamstress quickly picked up the dress and examined the damage. "Don’t worry, Milady, this can easily be fixed. I’ll take it back to my shop and remove the stains. It will be good as new in no time." She reassured Esme, attempting to salvage the situation, and Esme wished she could tell them she couldn’t care less about it.

She was starting to care little about a lot of things these days.

"This is my fault, I really am terribly sorry." Emily placed a hand to her chest in a gesture of mock remorse, her tiny voice dripping with insincerity. Esme’s gaze shifted towards her, but instead of indignation, she asked.

"Are you alright?"

Her question stunned Emily who blinked rapidly.

"Pardon?"

"You tripped, didn’t you? I’m asking if you’re alright." Esme repeated her inquiry, and Emily had no choice but to nod.

"The dress can be fixed, so I see no need to make a fuss over it." Esme’s response was calm and thoughtful. "If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave now." Her lips stretched into a little smile, and she turned to exit the dressing chamber.

Stepping out into the corridor, Esme met Lennox on the way.

He greeted her with a warm smile, but Esme’s lips felt too stiff and unresponsive to return the gesture.

"Your Majesty," she greeted.

"I was just about to come check on you," he said, scanning her face. "Did you find a dress you like? Or should I arrange for another selection to be brought in?"

Esme shook her head, "No, that won’t be necessary. I did choose a dress, but your guest had an accident. She tripped and spilled juice all over it." Esme’s tone was calm, almost detached. "The seamstress assured me she can repair it, so it’s not a problem.

Lennox’s gaze drifted towards the dressing chamber, his eyes locking onto Emily who was still standing there, her face a picture of innocence.

"If the dress is stained, I can have the seamstress recreate the same design for you." He offered, his voice smooth and unruffled.

Esme took note of how he wasn’t even the least bit upset that her own wedding dress got ruined, coupled up with the fact that he let a stranger choose a dress with her.

"I appreciate your offer, but that won’t be needed. I would like to take my leave now." Esme lowered her head once more, ready to take her leave when Lennox grabbed her wrist.

He gently pulled her back towards him, his eyes soft and persuading as he coaxed, "I was thinking we could have a private dinner tonight, just the two of us."

He suggested, his voice low and soothing. "We’ve both been busy, and I thought a quiet dinner would be an opportunity for us to relax." His demeanor was convincing, and if Esme didn’t know the truth behind his intention, she might have been taken in by his charms, just as she always had.

Quite the white knight role he’s playing here, but one thing was certain, she won’t be a tool for anyone’s personal gains anymore.

Esme’s smile was subtle, but her words were laced with evasion. "Perhap, another night, Your Majesty. I have etiquette lessons scheduled for tonight, and they always leave me feeling exhausted. I hope you understand." she gently extricated her wrist from his firm grasp and walked away.

Lennox’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure, a faint furrow on his brows. It was hard to believe that she turned down his invite.

"Is she being shy?" he wondered, his mind trying to interpret her behavior.