The venue fell silent.
Claire wanted to say more. She opened her mouth, but upon meeting Quentin’s smiling eyes, the words died in her throat.
What was going on? Wasn’t her eldest brother supposed to dote on her the most?!
"But... I... I..."
"Are you unwilling, Claire?" Quentin maintained his smile.
Yet, Claire could clearly hear the underlying threat in his tone.
She gritted her teeth. Extremely reluctantly, she stammered out, "I-It was my fault."
"And what exactly was your fault?" Quentin asked. "Tell us."
The onlookers were dumbfounded. What was happening? Wasn’t Claire supposed to be the most favored daughter of the Yeats Family? Wasn’t Quentin supposed to dote on this younger sister the most? Was it all a lie?
Claire was so mortified she wanted to die. Forcing her to apologize was already going too far; now he was actually demanding she list her mistakes? She hadn’t done anything wrong!
But with so many people watching, she didn’t want to be embarrassed by Quentin again. Gritting her teeth, her voice thick with tears, she said, "I shouldn’t have said Miss Lockwood’s gown was a fake."
Having apologized, she hurriedly defended herself. "But I didn’t know my gown was a fake either! It was a gift!"
Quentin didn’t know that she had "designed" this gown herself. She hadn’t even had the chance to show off her "design" before Estelle slapped her with the truth.
She thought Quentin would comfort her, but instead, the last trace of a smile vanished from his face.
"It seems you still haven’t realized where you went wrong." Quentin’s voice turned cold. "Is the Yeats Family just a tool for you to throw your weight around and bully others?"
Claire choked on her words. "I..."
"I don’t care what you do, but if I ever catch you using the Yeats Family to bully others again, I won’t hesitate to clean house."
"Quentin!" Claire burst into genuine tears. Stripped of her previous arrogance, she shot a vicious glare at Estelle. "You’re doing this for a woman like..."
"Shut up!" Quentin barked. He took a deep breath, turned back to Estelle, and softened his tone as if speaking to a precious treasure. "I am very sorry, Miss Lockwood. I apologize on behalf of the Yeats Family. I will make sure Claire is disciplined."
To be completely honest, Estelle found the whole situation baffling. Quentin disciplining Claire was Yeats Family business. What did it have to do with her?
Her main concern was...
"There’s no need to apologize," Estelle said unhurriedly. "I don’t care much for empty words. However, I am curious about one thing. I figured Miss Yeats wouldn’t answer me if I asked her, so I can only ask you, Young Mr. Yeats."
Quentin smiled. "Please do."
Estelle’s gaze sharpened. "May I ask who gave Miss Yeats this gown? And who designed it?
"The gown designed by Ms. Winters and my grandfather was given exclusively to me. It has never been shown to the public. So, how did the person who gifted this gown to Miss Yeats obtain an exact replica?
"Judging by Miss Yeats’s dress, I believe the plagiarist never saw the actual gown, only the design sketch. That’s why so many details were missed.
"Which brings up an interesting point—the design sketches were destroyed years ago. Therefore, I’m quite curious to know who gave Miss Yeats this dress. It would allow me to follow the trail and track down the plagiarist."
Quentin narrowed his eyes at Claire.
Claire shuddered and gritted her teeth. "I don’t remember! Besides, I’m a victim too. I received a counterfeit out of nowhere..."
Estelle tilted her head. "What do you think, Young Mr. Yeats?"
"I will look into it," Quentin nodded, completely ignoring Claire’s awful expression.
"Good," Estelle nodded. "I’ll wait for your news, Young Mr. Yeats. I trust you are a man of your word."
Quentin offered a gentle smile. "Of course. Ms. Winters, I sincerely apologize for the disruption to your banquet today. The Yeats Family will send over a formal apology gift shortly. As for Claire, I’ll be taking her home now. Again, I am truly sorry."
With Young Mr. Yeats personally escorting Claire away, her lackeys had no choice but to leave in a huff. Peace was restored to the banquet, though the guests remained utterly bewildered.
What was going on?
Claire’s hostility toward Estelle was inexplicable, but Quentin’s defense of her was even more so.
Jane Winters frowned. She couldn’t make sense of the situation either, but since they had already left, she decided not to dwell on it.
"Estelle, let’s go. Come with me."
Jane waved her hand, signaling the butler to attend to the guests. Everyone tactfully refrained from bringing up the Yeats Family again.
Estelle followed Jane to the other side of the banquet hall.
Jane glanced around curiously. "Estelle, aren’t you married? I believe the young man’s name is Nathaniel Sloan. It was an engagement arranged by your grandfather. Didn’t he come today?"
Estelle blinked. "He did."
"Is that so? I’d love to meet him later, then." Jane sighed softly. "I’m so happy to see you here today. Chase... Well, never mind. It’s all in the past. It’s just that out of the three of us back then, Chase is gone, leaving only Lynch and me..."
This reminded Jane that she had never formally introduced Lynch to Estelle. "By the way, do you know Lynch? She’s the founder of the charity foundation. I sent her an invitation when I returned, but she hasn’t shown up today. I wonder if something happened... Would you come with me to check on her later, Estelle?"
Estelle pressed her lips together, a sudden lump forming in her throat. She opened her mouth, her voice slightly hoarse. "I... I know Mr. Lynch."
"You do? That’s wonderful!" Jane brightened up, pacing excitedly.
"When Chase and I first met Lynch, she was only twenty. Oh, my junior brother and I practically treated her like a daughter. Even though there was a significant age gap, we shared the same ideals, so age was never an issue.
"Lynch must be approaching fifty by now. Sigh, I really don’t know what happened. I can’t believe she didn’t show up today."
"...Grandma Winters," Estelle said softly. "The ’Mr. Lynch’ who received the invitation is here today."
Jane paused. "What? She is? Where is she? Well, I never! She’s here and hasn’t even come to see me? Come on, let’s go find... Estelle, what’s wrong?"
Estelle looked away and quickly wiped at her damp eyes.
A strong sense of foreboding washed over Jane. "Did something happen to Lynch?"
"Ms. Winters."
Suddenly, a gentle male voice rang out from behind her.
Jane turned around. Having met Nathaniel Sloan once at an exchange conference, she recognized him immediately. "Mr. Sloan."
Nathaniel had finished his business. After hearing about the commotion Claire had caused and contacting Quentin, he had returned to Estelle’s side.
Hearing Jane’s question, Nathaniel took out the invitation. "Ms. Winters," he said gently, "this invitation was sent to me."
Jane stared blankly for a moment before realizing. "Oh, I see. It must have been sent to the wrong person."
"I am Mr. Lynch," Nathaniel replied. "Or rather, the current Mr. Lynch is me."