Chapter 1039

Able to easily distinguish between politeness and sincerity, Carissa knew Marjorie wasn't being dismissive.

“Madam Marjorie, the queen is your daughter. If Skye Embroidery is something the queen is spearheading, it would be the best possible outcome,” Carissa said.

Marjorie paused, slightly startled. “Your Grace, if Skye Embroidery succeeds, it will certainly be remembered for generations. You’ve already begun working on it, and although there will be obstacles, I believe it won’t be too difficult for you.”

Carissa smiled. “It’s easier said than done. Ultimately, it’s a matter of changing mindsets.”

Marjorie nodded, resuming her walk. “Indeed, it’s difficult. But since you’ve already endured the criticism, why should you share any credit with Her Majesty?”

Carissa chuckled lightly. “I believe claiming credit would be too shallow. The real accomplishment is ensuring it benefits the people.”

There was a brief pause before Marjorie responded, her voice laced with admiration: “You have a rare and broad-minded perspective, Your Grace. It’s truly remarkable.”

Recognizing the moment, Carissa gently suggested, “Perhaps you could speak to Her Majesty about it.”

Carissa had a clear purpose. If Victoria took the lead in backing the women’s academy, while Kylie took charge of the workshop, many thorny issues would be alleviated.

Marjorie nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will mention it to her.”

Hearing Marjorie’s calm, unhurried tone, Carissa knew Kylie’s involvement was unlikely. She didn’t waste time, asking directly, “If Her Majesty isn’t interested, would you be?”

They reached a pavilion and sat down.

Marjorie gave a faint smile. “My household affairs keep me busy. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to meet your expectations, Your Grace.”

Carissa didn’t press her. “There’s no need to meet any expectations. Just follow your heart.”

Marjorie’s eyes seemed to lose focus.

Follow her heart?

Women couldn't follow their hearts. This world was ruled by men.

Chapter 1030

In the main hall, the atmosphere had grown tense after Rafael spoke.

“Skye Embroidery is my princess consort’s hard work. I don’t want anyone ruining it—anyone at all,” he said bluntly.

His words hung in the air, blatantly stating his intent. Malcolm had expected some subtlety, perhaps some pleasantries, before addressing the matter.

Instead, it was brought up directly, leaving no room for tact or grace. It was awkward. Being upfront might have been better; at least then Malcolm could have offered an excuse.

Rafael, ever considerate, didn’t let the tension linger. When the atmosphere reached its nadir, he clarified matters, as Malcolm had wished.

“As for the troublemaking scholars, I’ll be watching them. But if they cause more trouble, I won’t show leniency, even with your intervention,” the prince declared.

Malcolm’s lips twitched. He swallowed his frustration. There was no room for explanation or debate. Rafael wasn’t asking for anything; he was laying down the law.

Seeing Malcolm’s silence, Rafael continued: “Given the damage they’ve done to the workshop’s reputation, they must make amends. They must publicly retract their lies.

“Their earlier slander was done in secrecy. I have no patience for underhanded methods. To make amends, they must openly sign their names to articles, which must first be submitted to Jacob for review. If he approves, they can be published.”

He set down his cup, his eyes sharp and serious. “That’s the purpose of my visit. I expect you to handle this thoroughly, Lord Quinton. Don't make me come back.”

Malcolm’s face shifted between anger and disbelief. “Your Highness, are you forcing my hand? They have the right to voice their opinions. You can’t claim the workshop is your princess consort’s project and forbid criticism. Remember, power always faces resistance.”

Rafael took another sip of coffee, his expression unchanging. He spoke in a warm, calm tone:

“I understand, but you and those scholars must understand this: If they don’t follow my instructions, they’ll soon learn what real power feels like.”

Malcolm’s face darkened. “Are you threatening me, Your Highness?”

Rafael nodded, setting down his cup with deliberate calmness. His gaze was unwavering. “If you have complaints, voice them, Lord Quinton. We can settle them. I can find a hundred mistakes in you, but I doubt you’ll find even one in me.”

His words hit like a hammer, pressing down on Malcolm’s chest.

The final "www." and "ペン" appear to be extraneous and have been removed. The chapter numbering inconsistencies were also addressed.