I Will Show No Mercy If You Hurt My Wife

Lucien brushed Collette’s hand away and drew Marguerite close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“!”

“This dress was a gift from me. A foolish, possessive desire not to let anyone else see the skin of my beloved wife, that’s all. Do you have a problem with that?”

“N-No…!”

Glaring at her coldly, Lucien left Collette pale as she shook her head.

Marguerite could not keep up with what was happening.

Lucien was no longer looking at Collette. Holding Marguerite firmly to his side, he turned his anger-filled gaze on Isabella, then looked down on the hangers-on behind her.

“If you hurt my wife, I will show no mercy. —You are prepared to make an enemy of the de Broy ducal house, are you?”

“Eek!”

The one who cried out was Collette.

‘I only did what Isabella told me to do…!’

If the de Broy ducal house turned its gaze on her, a merchant family that had bought a baronial title with money would be nothing more than dust blown away by the wind.

Collette cast a pleading look toward Isabella, but Isabella merely clenched her trembling hands, her face twisted under Lucien’s condemnation.

‘Why…!? My sister’s marriage was supposed to be by royal order! The de Broy family should hate her!’

Lucien, as Isabella had seen him at the wedding, was handsome—but he had clearly looked down on the Clavel family. At the banquet, Lady Yumila had spoken proudly of how she was relentlessly bullying Marguerite. Even the servants had treated Isabella, a member of House Clavel, with rudeness.

She had convinced herself that the luxurious room she envied was nothing more than a tool to keep up appearances.

‘Then why is my sister loved by Lucien-sama…!?’

Rage surged through her body as if her blood itself were burning. Yet the sister she should have lashed out at was protected by Lucien, leaving Isabella unable to lay a hand on her.

A feral, beastlike expression twisted Isabella’s face.

Lucien returned her glare with icy detachment, then told Marguerite only, “We’re leaving.”

“No need to see us out. If you attempt something this unpleasant again, we will respond accordingly.”

Turning his back, Lucien strode toward the grand doors of the hall. Still close at his side, Marguerite cast one last anxious glance toward Isabella.

That gesture only poured more fuel on Isabella’s anger.

‘What is this farce supposed to be!?’

“H-Hey, Isabella… what Lucien-sama said just now…”

“Shut up! Be quiet!”

Yelled at, Collette shrank back, looking resentfully around as she wondered what would become of her—but the companions gathered there only averted their eyes, refusing to meet her gaze.

Through the nighttime Royal Capital, the horses moved with light, steady steps.

Even inside the carriage, Lucien sat in silence, arms crossed, deep lines carved between his brows.

Marguerite, unsure what to say, remained seated beside him, stealing cautious sideways glances.

Her face was unusually flushed.

‘“My beloved wife”… he said that. And this dress too…’

All of Marguerite’s dresses were gifts from Lucien. She had even heard that he chose them himself.

But being told that he had chosen them with such intent made wearing them now feel strangely embarrassing, almost ticklish.

‘No, I mustn’t get carried away. He was only following the royal order. Of course he would defend his wife if she were insulted…’

And yet, Lucien had not been obligated to defend her. That evening party, like the banquet at House de Broy, had been an internal affair of House Clavel. Even if Lucien had treated Marguerite coldly, no one there would have reproached him.

But he had defended her. That had been his own will.

Marguerite felt confused about how she should receive that fact.

Lucien had even invoked the name of House de Broy to silence everyone present—and just as she thought that, a crucial realization struck her.

“Lucien-sama! It’s possible Isabella may appeal to Prince Noel.”

At the evening party they had attended by invitation, Lucien had invoked the name of the de Broy ducal house and used the word “enemy.” Might that not run counter to the royal family’s orders?

But when Lucien turned to her, he looked puzzled.

“So what?”

“Isabella has been sending letters to Prince Noel. She might twist today’s events and bring them to His Highness’s attention—”

“And that’s exactly why I’m asking what the problem is.”

“Huh?”

Seeing Marguerite’s blank expression, Lucien let out a small sigh.

“If Prince Noel asks about it, I’ll simply tell him what happened tonight. There were plenty of witnesses. Your sister won’t be able to silence them all. If the royal family interrogates them, it will be impossible for them to keep quiet. That’s why I refrained from laying a hand on that woman.”

“Ah…”

“That woman” clearly referred to Collette.

“I was too focused on restraining my anger, and I let her hurl abuse at you… I’m sorry.”

“No…”

Marguerite shrank back apologetically.

While Lucien had been thinking and acting that far ahead, she herself had only stood there in a daze, watching events unfold. In the first place, this had been a problem of House Clavel, and Marguerite herself had been the spark.

“I’m very sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing? I told you there was no need to.”

Turning his face away, Lucien shifted his gaze out the carriage window.

Marguerite lowered her head.

But when she lifted her face again after a moment, her eyes sparkled in the light streaming through the window.

Marguerite’s hand gently touched Lucien’s arm.

Then, not an apology—but gratitude.

“Thank you very much, Lucien-sama. …I was happy.”

It was the first time anyone had ever stood up for her. The first time someone had shown open anger on her behalf. Someone who had put an arm around her shoulders and taken her away from that house.

Her heart leapt, her pulse racing, and Marguerite’s cheeks flushed red once more.

The carriage passed through the main street and turned into a dimly lit alley, so Marguerite did not notice that Lucien’s cheeks, too, were faintly flushed.