Chapter 248/9

Chapter 248

“Indeed. But if I were to simply hand it over, all this struggle would be unnecessary.”

The statement was so unexpected that Deatrice found herself at a loss for words. She had always assumed the Duke would die clutching the ring that symbolized his title. Was he truly so old and weary?

Looking back, she saw how remarkably exhausted the Duke appeared.

“Deatrice, come back. I understand the burden you feel… but this is the best solution for everyone.”

Yet the plea to return felt like shackles tightening around her. Her legs weakened, and she sank into a chair.

To transfer the title, the marriage must continue. The request to return implied just that: to go back and live as Lucius’s wife once more.

“What about Lucius? Has he agreed to this?”

“He still harbors feelings for you. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Perhaps sensing her wavering resolve, the Duke’s voice softened. He rose and approached, but Deatrice felt stifled and moved away.

“I don’t believe it. To think this is all for someone else.”

The Duke’s face contorted in confusion at her sudden outburst.

“What are you implying?”

“Surely you’ve arranged a grace period. During that time, you’ll prepare to move to another country, won’t you?”

“Lucius has already demanded half of my estate.”

“So the remaining half will be gradually siphoned away by you?” Deatrice accused him of his schemes.

“I don’t understand your accusations. Are you saying you would only be satisfied if I were utterly ruined? I raised you for over twenty years. You carry half my blood. Must you truly witness my downfall?”

The Duke paused, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment, before speaking slowly.

“You should endure. If you truly love him, shouldn’t you bear this? It’s bewildering to hear you accuse me when you’re the one who fled, afraid of a mere grudge.”

Deatrice remained silent.

“I will relinquish my claim to the title. Soon, the Emperor will summon us. It would be unthinkable for you not to be present. I will give you a week. Return to Lucius. Remember that the lives of all your relatives depend on this.”

With a cold glance, the Duke turned and walked away. The rhythmic click of his polished shoes grew faint as he departed. Deatrice bowed her head and touched her lips with a trembling hand.

She recalled the kiss Lucius had given her just before leaving.

That kiss had clearly been one of reconciliation. Perhaps all of this was part of Lucius’s plan.

Lucius had even brought Tom Wilson here. At that time, Deatrice had wounded him with an arrow. But even if all this were another scheme by Lucius to draw her back, there was nothing she could do.

All she could do was feel exasperated by his foolish persistence.

That night, Deatrice wrote a letter to Lucius.

She hesitated numerous times, crumpling and smoothing the paper, struggling to compose each line. Some parts were overly emotional and childish, while others were excessively dry.

Despite writing several drafts, she could send only one letter, which simply informed the butler that she was returning.

  *

“So, she will be arriving today.”

As he dismounted his horse, drenched in sweat and barely catching his breath, Lucius received the news. He struggled to remove his sticky gloves and took the towel the butler offered, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Today?”

Lucius’s voice was curt, and the butler, though nervous, responded with forced calmness.

“Yes, she is expected to arrive by evening.”

“Has the chef been informed?”

“Yes. Since it’s been a long time since Madame has been away, the chef is preparing an elaborate welcome.”

“Tell him not to go overboard. Just prepare things as usual. Pass the same message to everyone. Make sure not to let anyone feel that she has been away for a long time.”

The only instructions Lucius gave his servants were to make the return as natural and comfortable as possible. He wanted to avoid any actions that would burden Deatrice.

It had been five months since Deatrice had left under the pretext of recuperation. The servants buzzed with excitement at her return, but Lucius showed no sign of any change in his demeanor.

Even when he first received and relayed Deatrice’s letter, his reaction had been no different from today.

The butler bowed deeply in response to Lucius’s repeated instructions and left. Lucius watched the butler’s retreating figure before returning to his room.

Lucius returned to the couple’s bedroom only after receiving news of Deatrice’s return. He did not harbor any particular expectations; he simply did not want to change anything from how things had been before she left.

Of course, he was not pleased to hear her message through the butler.

But he understood well that she was feeling a significant burden through this process.

He remembered the way she had crumbled, endlessly apologizing when he had called her a coward. The endless stream of “I’m sorry” that she had poured out.

The kiss he had given her when she was broken had tasted salty from the tears on her lips.

“Back then, I could bear it because my feelings for you weren’t as strong as they are now. But not anymore. I can’t endure that anymore. Now I know.”

Chapter 249

Her words had struck deep into his heart. Yet, he could not bring himself to give her up. For a while, he had thought his love for her was greater than her love for him. Later, he realized that his determination to keep her close was perhaps a form of power in itself.

Because he was in a position to insist, to disregard her guilt, and to make her return to him.

So, when she finally said she was coming back, he felt a sense of relief as if a long battle had ended, but also a pang of guilt.

“But everything can be set right again.”

He muttered to himself, clenching his fist.

Just because another loss had occurred didn’t mean everything was over. Life, like their love, would continue despite the deep wounds.

She had said it would be much easier to end everything and start anew, but he had never desired anything easy.

Deatrice would come to realize that as well. That the things most worth achieving are those fought for with great effort. That nobility comes from such endeavors.

  *

“We have arrived, Madame.”

The quiet announcement made Deatrice open her eyes.

She had never actually slept, but had kept her eyes closed to avoid whatever was approaching. Though she hadn’t successfully avoided it, it was better than watching the slow approach to where she had fled.

The path she took to escape had been fraught with difficulty.

Leaving the Duke’s estate, she had traveled by carriage in the dead of night to the station and boarded the train with Sophie. They had faced numerous inspections and trials. But with Sophie’s help, she had barely made it to Galaba and settled into the school.

Adjusting to life at the school had been challenging as well. For someone who had lived only the life of an aristocrat, engaging in productive work was incredibly difficult. She spent her days enduring, hoping “but all that effort had scattered, and she had to leave the school in a hurry.

Just as easily as Rosalynn had transformed from Miss Fram to Madame, her situation had changed so simply.

But could she truly manage it?

Deatrice thought as she looked at the estate visible beyond the window.

Her father and Lucius must be overestimating her.

She did not believe she could easily stand before people again and fulfill the role of Lucius’s wife.

Everything was a mess. Like before, she could not discern the value of enduring through such trials. In the end, would all this be a form of atonement to Lucius? She was lost in these complex thoughts when the carriage stopped. They had arrived in front of the estate.

She saw the servants waiting for her. Seeing them, Deatrice felt a tightness in her chest and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you alright, Madame?”

Stopping Rosalynn from reaching out, Deatrice lifted her head.

Yes, let’s think of this as atonement.

Just as Lucius had said, if she truly loved him, she should have endured. So, she would endure. With that self-suggestion, Deatrice stepped out of the carriage.

The servants greeted her with suitably warm smiles. As she acknowledged each one with a nod, Deatrice realized that, contrary to her fears, it was not as difficult as she had anticipated; it was as if ingrained in her.

But then the door opened, and Lucius appeared.

Deatrice felt deeply embarrassed that she was wearing the dress her father had sent her. It was a garment she had chosen to maintain a certain dignity in front of the servants. Although Lucius would not notice or, if he did, would not despise her for it, Deatrice felt a peculiar sense of guilt.

“Deatrice!”

Lucius greeted her with the light and joyful expression of someone welcoming a wife returning from a long stay. His soft cheek brushed against her neck. As if lost in the embrace that had started as a public display, he pressed closer, his heels and chin lifting.

For Deatrice, the embrace carried special significance. She called his name with more emotion than she had originally intended.

“Lucius.”

“Yes. You’ve returned safely. Really, it’s a relief you’re here now.”

He murmured this while holding her even tighter. For a moment, he embraced her so fiercely it was almost as if he was choking her, then, as if nothing had happened, he naturally smiled and released her. Though clearly a smile meant for public display, it was a well-crafted and reassuring smile that made her almost believe that her time away had merely been a vacation.

And that illusion persisted for several days.

Not only the servants but even Lucius himself treated her as if she had simply returned from a vacation. This treatment extended even when they were alone together.

It was as if he had rehearsed for this moment. His demeanor was as natural and smooth as a seasoned actor on stage. Deatrice felt almost overwhelmed by his performance.