Only Now

Memories from his early childhood remained only faintly.

Lucien had always been at his mother Yumila’s side.

His father, Alban, was constantly busy managing the vast ducal domain, and it was rare for the three of them to gather together at the same table for meals.

Above all else, Yumila disliked Alban involving himself with Lucien.

The tutors were chosen by Yumila.

Which children of a similar age Lucien was allowed to associate with was also decided by Yumila.

She drilled it into him endlessly that members of House Clavel, their relatives, and those close to them were not to be approached.

“People are born with a station in life, and a way of living befitting that station.”

That was Yumila’s favorite phrase, and it was also her creed.

“The ducal house stands at the highest rank among the nobility. You are the only son of the ducal house, and one day you will inherit it. You must conduct yourself in a manner that brings no shame.”

It could be said that Lucien grew up without betraying those expectations.

He had nothing to do with reckless adventures or indiscreet temptations that boys his age often fell into. He studied etiquette and the management of the domain, and trained himself in horsemanship and swordsmanship.

Looking back, the motive had been simple: by delving into fields Yumila did not understand, he had wanted to draw Alban’s attention.

Alban avoided Lucien out of fear of his wife’s anger, but if learning was the pretext, he would teach him carefully.

“Father, Guason lies south of Lake Oval. To transport supplies from the city, won’t ships be necessary?”

“Ah, that’s right. We’ll need to arrange ships as well as horses. Unlike me, you’re quick to remember things, Lucien.”

Alban would narrow his eyes in praise, and sometimes even pat Lucien’s head.

Yumila would have rejected such behavior with a sharp, “You’re too old for that,” but Lucien silently allowed it.

Those large hands moved awkwardly, reminding him of the distance between parent and child, yet at the same time making him feel as though that distance might be bridged.

With his refined features and his status as the next duke, once Lucien entered high society he began to be fawned over by young ladies.

But Yumila forbade him from associating with them.

“We shall receive a wife for you from the royal family. There is a princess of suitable age, after all.”

The way Yumila spoke as though it were already decided sent a chill through Lucien’s spine—proof, perhaps, that he had grown up.

“Lucien has the right to that.”

Following his father’s example of not opposing her, Lucien also kept silent and left the decision to his mother, as he always had.

For several years, she seemed to have been working on the royal family’s side—

“…The marriage alliance with House Clavel has been decided.”

One day, Alban announced this with a gloomy expression.

“Impossible!! That… that base house!!”

Lucien did not scream like Yumila did, but he was shaken enough for his expression to stiffen.

His mother’s repeated words—a wife from the royal family—had quietly embedded themselves in his heart. To be told now that his bride would be a count’s daughter, and from an enemy house at that—

‘Are the royal family looking down on House de Broy…?’

Such doubts inevitably surfaced.

“It is already decided. Precisely because we are a ducal house, we cannot defy a royal order. It would set a poor example for those beneath us.”

“What kind of shameless faces do they have, sending their daughter here? A count’s house! To a ducal house! They should have declined of their own accord!”

“…Perhaps it was precisely that hostility which triggered this.”

The calm attitude of Alban, both father and head of the house, barely managed to restrain Lucien. Otherwise, he might have raged alongside Yumila.

“They have only one daughter. Do not forget that.”

Though he had been cautioned so firmly, in the end Lucien forgot Alban’s words.

Because when Marguerite arrived after the wedding ceremony, she brought hardly any belongings and looked like a girl who had run away from home.

‘If you were that dissatisfied, you should have declined the match.’

Placing themselves safely above reproach, Yumila and Lucien grew indignant.

—Never imagining that he would end up falling in love with that very girl.

It was something Lucien could never have foreseen.

At first, he had pushed her away because he assumed Marguerite’s behavior was an attempt to ingratiate herself with House de Broy.

But when she returned his words with, “I have no intention of loving you either,” Lucien became aware of the contradiction in his own attitude.

He said he had no intention of loving her, yet Marguerite acted for the sake of House de Broy.

Dressed shabbily and living in a shabby room, she nevertheless enjoyed her life.

Marguerite’s face lit up when she spoke of wanting to see the sea. She read novels that Yumila dismissed as vulgar, and wept openly as she was moved by them.

Watching her, Lucien was forced to realize—only now—that he himself had nothing.

He had lived exactly as instructed, without even recognizing his own feelings of love until someone pointed them out.

Even after realizing his love, he still did not know what to do.

And yet, in his mind, he kept seeking Marguerite’s smile.

—As I thought, Lord Lucien really is a kind person.

—Being able to marry you, Lord Lucien, makes me truly very happy.

He wanted to make Marguerite’s words come true.

It had been a resolve that had crumbled so easily not long ago, but now, it had become Lucien’s wish.