I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway

"That’s intriguing. Securing business funds isn’t easy, even for the sons of established merchants."

"Would you like to hear my plan? I’ll offer it for just one coin."

"Ahahaha! Seems like our roles have reversed. Fascinating, but I’ve already inherited everything I need, so there’s no poin—"

Madame Abigail cut herself off mid-sentence, clearing her throat. She had let personal information slip. Even something trivial could be dangerous.

I quickly lowered my head and stared at the peanut cookies in front of me.

I heard nothing! My only concern right now is the peanut ratio in these cookies!

"…Ahem. It seems I become too talkative when faced with an interesting lady. I should get back to work."@@novelbin@@

"Thank you for your time. I should head over to the September wagers myself."

The primary social event for September was the royal family’s horse racing tournament, held at their private track. The wagers would likely revolve around it.

Madame Abigail stood but paused to glance back at me.

"Do you know what the main wager for September is?"

"Isn’t it the horse race? A bet on which horse will win… no, that wouldn’t be it."

That could be done at the racetrack itself.

Madame nodded.

"In the Salon, we always bet on people. That means this time, you must predict the winner or loser of the race."

"That sounds too complicated."

I knew something significant would happen during the race, so I could probably guess the top-ranking horses. But betting on a person’s success or failure? That was practically mind-reading.