The Dinner Party (2)

Just as Marguerite had expected, Isabella did not go over to Lucien and the young lady. Instead, she changed direction and walked straight toward Marguerite.

A smile of pure delight floated on her lips.

“Sister, I happened to hear it. That you’re very unhappy right now.”

Reflexively, Marguerite’s expression stiffened. She closed her mouth and lowered her gaze.

Marguerite herself was surprised by her reaction.

No matter how happily she lived in House de Broy, the moment she faced Isabella, she reverted to her former self.

‘But this works out perfectly.’

Isabella seemed pleased by Marguerite’s frightened demeanor.

“So even you, Sister, who always acted so composed at home, couldn’t endure it at your husband’s house.”

‘No, compared to my family home, my married life is paradise.’

“I hear you’re made to sleep alone in some deserted annex like a storage room, and that you cry every night.”

‘…If no one ever goes there, how would they know I cry every night? Mother Yumila must have said that.’

“Even now—look—your husband, Lord Lucien, has left you behind to talk with someone else.”

Isabella cast a sideways glance toward Lucien.

The young lady, burning with rivalry against Marguerite, clung to Lucien as if she herself were his wife, wearing a rapturous smile. That no one was reprimanding her only highlighted how abnormal this dinner party truly was.

“You have no place here, Sister. Even if you beg to come home, we won’t accept you. A sister who has passed through the gates of an enemy house is filthy.”

‘I’d enter a convent before ever returning to that house…’

Replying only in her heart, Marguerite kept her head bowed, maintaining an outwardly gloomy expression. Since her thoughts never showed on her face anyway, the stiffness of her facial muscles was almost a blessing.

In the past, Isabella’s words would have hurt Marguerite. But now it was different.

Once this time was over, she would part ways with Isabella. Marguerite would return to House de Broy, where she could smile freely.

‘How wonderful…!’

All she had to do was let Isabella’s words flow past her ears for a while and keep a solemn expression.

‘If only I could do the same in front of Mother Yumila…’

She even had the mental space to think such irrelevant thoughts.

Frustrated by her sister’s lack of reaction, Isabella raised her eyebrows.

Whenever Marguerite failed to behave as Isabella wished, Isabella would always throw a tantrum, screaming until she hurt her.

“Hey, are you listening!? You’re hated by everyone in every house, and you’ll live your whole life without being loved by anyone!”

At last, she uttered words that should never be spoken at a presentation banquet—a curse.

That final line reached deep into Marguerite’s heart.

“…Yes…”

A reply she had never intended slipped out in a small voice.

“Lord Lucien already told me. …That he has no intention of loving me.”

“Oh my! He truly despises you from the bottom of his heart, doesn’t he?”

Isabella’s expression lit up.

‘But you see, the people of House de Broy—just because they dislike someone, they don’t do things the way you do.’

For example, even if Marguerite were to break under relentless harassment and ask for a divorce, just as they wished—

They would not go so far as to check whether the person they had driven out was really becoming unhappy.

“What is it, Isabella?”

Perhaps drawn by Isabella’s raised voice, Maurice appeared.

Without showing even a hint of concern for Marguerite, he asked Isabella,

“Did she do something to you?”

“No. I was just encouraging her, because my poor sister looked so pitiful.”

“I see. What a kind child you are. I was right to keep you by my side.”

Maurice draped an arm around Isabella’s shoulders and returned to his friends. Seemingly satisfied, Isabella obediently followed her father.

Lucien returned shortly after parting ways with the young lady.

Marguerite let out a breath of relief, but Lucien’s expression was stiff, deep lines etched between his brows. He clearly had not accepted Marguerite’s easy willingness to send him off with another woman.

On top of that, Isabella seemed to have caught another conversation partner, and—

“At House Clavel, we’re simply relieved to have disposed of such a burden. I almost feel sorry for the Duke of de Broy and Lord Lucien.”

Her shrill voice pierced straight through the hall.

“To have to take that sister as a wife—how truly pitiful Lord Lucien is.”

The furrow in Lucien’s brow deepened further.

‘I tried to avoid a confrontation…!’

Marguerite went pale.

“I’m terribly sorry, Lord Lucien. I’ll go stop her.”

“No. My mother is much the same.”

With a scowl unbefitting a noble—looking ready to click his tongue—Lucien shook his head.

Marguerite looked around the hall.

At first glance, it seemed like a cheerful dinner party, but on closer inspection, there were spaces between people like the flow of a river, clearly dividing the de Broy faction from the Clavel faction.

‘Are old grudges really so unforgivable?’

Marguerite tilted her head—

“—Marguerite!”

At the sound of her name, she lifted her face.

“Sharon!”

Marguerite’s face instantly brightened.