He Realized It

From the day Marguerite inadvertently let slip details about her life at her family home, Lucien found several occasions to speak with her.

When Lucien pressed her with questions about her life in House Clavel, Marguerite looked troubled, yet she did indirectly admit that the harassment she had received from her father and sister had been worse than anything she faced in House de Broy.

“If you had not married me, Lord Lucien, I believe I would have remained unmarried and stayed at home, assisting my sister.”

It seemed Maurice had always intended to take a husband for Isabella and have her inherit the house. When the marriage with House de Broy was decided, he had not offered up his eldest daughter Marguerite in a moment of anguished sacrifice.

Instead, Marguerite would act as a substitute butler, assisting with the management of the domain and household, while Isabella’s children would eventually inherit the countship. That was the future Maurice had envisioned.

‘That’s nothing but keeping her alive and wasting her away.’

The words of condemnation that nearly slipped from Lucien’s mouth were far too cruel, and he could not bring himself to say them in front of Marguerite.

She had asked him never to tell anyone, so he did not share the details even with Nicholas. Still, the anger continued to smolder in Lucien’s chest, leaving him unable to put it anywhere.

What irritated Lucien the most was how breezily Marguerite herself took it all. Though she understood that her father’s and sister’s actions could become a scandal, she harbored not even a fragment of desire for revenge.

After hearing the story, Nicholas crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling.

“Hah… I see. I won’t ask for details, but she must have been treated terribly.”

“You’re surprisingly quick to grasp it.”

“Well, just look at your face… You look like a monster straight out of hell. It’s too scary to ask.”

“If she wished it, I could bring the full might of House de Broy down upon House Clavel. And yet, she does not wish for it.”

“Well, that would mean defying a royal order.”

Nicholas could clearly tell that Lucien was furious over Marguerite’s pitiable past.

But still, Nicholas tilted his head inwardly.

‘So what exactly is today’s problem?’

As Nicholas wondered, unable to see where the conversation was heading, Lucien sat there in stubborn silence.

Then, shooting Nicholas a sharp glance, he asked,

“What do you think I should do?”

“…About what?”

Lucien really was strange today, Nicholas sighed inwardly. Perhaps the long-standing feud had stirred Lucien’s hostility toward House Clavel.

From the perspective of an uninvolved outsider, the answer was obvious.

“There’s no need for revenge. All you have to do is make your wife happy.”

He thought he had said something entirely reasonable, but Lucien’s expression grew severe once more.

“…She says she is already happy enough.”

“That’s just you bragging.”

“There’s no way she could be happy. Look at how she’s dressed, the room she’s made to live in. And yet she looks at me with genuine joy.”

“…That is frustrating, I’ll grant you.”

Nicholas nodded, folding his arms again.

Not noticing one’s own happiness was sad enough, but not noticing one’s own unhappiness was equally painful to witness.

“All the more so if you care about her.”

“…What…?”

In that instant, the air froze.

Lucien stared at Nicholas, eyes wide.

A beat later, Nicholas realized the source of the discomfort he had been sensing all day, but it was already too late to stop himself.

Having reached a state somewhere between resignation and exasperation, he sank back into the sofa and watched as his friend confronted reality.

Lucien’s face, frozen in shock, gradually flushed red. At the same time, his brows drew tightly together and his lips twisted, giving him an expression that could almost be mistaken for rage.

Doubtless, everything that had happened so far was flashing through his mind at once.

‘So that’s why nothing lined up.’

To think he had not even realized his own feelings.

Lucien remained completely frozen.

‘Come to think of it, he’s always been utterly clueless about romance.’

From a young age, his refined looks had drawn the attention of countless young ladies, but Lucien’s practical nature, coupled with the protection—more like surveillance—of his mother Yumila, meant that Nicholas had never thought to drag him into womanizing.

He had been right in thinking that a lady like Marguerite suited him, but—

‘I can’t imagine him being straightforwardly affectionate, though…’

As Nicholas calmly sipped his tea and ate the sweets while waiting, Lucien—who looked like some sort of village talisman meant to ward off evil—finally opened his mouth.

“I…”

“Yeah?”

“…I told her that I had no intention of loving her.”

“Well, that’s something…”

Given that House Clavel had been a political enemy for years, it was not hard to understand the impulse to strike first and crush the other side’s pride.

Even so, Nicholas was exasperated by the foolishness of it all, while also thinking that Marguerite might well forgive such a thing.

“So what did she say?”

“She said, ‘I also have no intention of loving you, so please do not worry.’”

Lucien answered Nicholas’s question, repeating her words exactly.

At that very moment, tea was spectacularly sprayed across Lucien’s face.