The Budding Of Love

The strange rhythm her heart had begun beating in during the carriage ride home from the evening party did not return to normal even after a night had passed. Days went by, then a week, and it was still just as odd.

“Ever since then, whenever I look at Lucien-sama my heart starts racing, and when I’m away from him, my chest feels like it’s being squeezed tight…”

Welcoming Sharon, who had come to visit, into her room, Marguerite recounted what had happened at the evening party. Then, with a grave expression, she confessed this.

“Could it be… an illness?”

“What are you even saying???”

“What do you mean, ‘what’…?”

Seeing Sharon contort her brows and mouth into an expression wholly unbefitting a proper lady, Marguerite shrank back.

From Sharon’s perspective, there was only one possible cause for Marguerite’s palpitations—but for a friend with almost no experience interacting with the opposite sex, it seemed utterly beyond imagination.

“When did it start?”

“From the carriage ride home… no, wait, it happened even before that. At the evening party, when Lady Collette tried to entice Lucien-sama…”

That moment had been the beginning of the strange heartbeat.

If Lucien had not clearly rejected Collette then, Marguerite’s heart might have burst.

“Lucien-sama stood up for me…”

As soon as she said that much, Marguerite’s face flushed red, as if steam were about to rise from it.

“My beloved wife”—Lucien had said that.

Come to think of it, perhaps that was when her pounding heart had truly begun.

But Marguerite thought she must not dwell too much on that. What happened had been outside House de Broy, and she did not know Lucien’s true feelings.

In fact, even in the carriage ride home, Lucien had shown no sign of being conscious of his own words. Lately, whenever Marguerite seemed about to speak to him, he would turn his back and leave.

“Could it be that Lucien-sama dislikes me…?”

“No way. If he disliked you, he wouldn’t have defended you. He’s just embarrassed.”

“You think so?”

“Of course.”

“I hope that’s true too…”

No matter how strongly Sharon reassured her, Marguerite still seemed unsure.

“Let’s set aside what Lucien-sama is thinking for now. About the evening party—what do you think about it, Marguerite?”

“I was happy. It felt like the distance between us closed a little.”

“Closed a little…?”

“Is that bad?”

“Bad isn’t quite it, but…”

Covering her face with both hands, Sharon let out a troubled groan.

“First of all, this room was prepared by Lucien-sama, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that dress? The paintings on the walls, the dishes in the cabinets too?”

“That’s right.”

“I think you’ve already been completely won over…”

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Sharon shook her head.

Giving up on making Marguerite recognize her romantic feelings outright, Sharon decided to be satisfied with the fact that Marguerite at least felt their distance had closed—it was progress enough.

Marguerite, long accustomed to the miserable conditions at her family home, had developed a sturdy heart that did not break even when hostility was directed at her.

On the other hand, she had no experience of being shown affection.

“What matters most is how you feel, Marguerite. …And Lucien-sama’s feelings too.”

“…”

“You should ask him. It’s a simple thing, really.”

That “simple thing” was difficult for Marguerite, who had lived in a household where everything was imposed upon her.

“By the way, it looks like what you were looking for might turn up.”

“Really!? Thank you!”

As Sharon changed the subject, another idea had already come to her mind.

A few days later.

In Lucien’s private room, a familiar scene was unfolding.

Sitting across the table from Lucien was his friend, Nicholas. And sprawled across Nicholas’s lap was Marron.

“My beloved wife, huh? You went all out there.”

“It was just heated words in the moment…”

When Lucien reached a hand out from beneath the table, Marron let out a sharp hiss and swatted it away.

Though he was a cat Noel had gifted to Lucien, Marron had become completely attached to Marguerite, and for some reason regarded Lucien as an enemy.

“I managed to keep my composure in the carriage ride home, but since then… I don’t know what face to show her, and I keep avoiding my wife.”

Lucien’s face reddened.

“I think it might’ve been better if you’d just stayed bright red from the start.”

Lucien had no idea why Nicholas was giving him such a dubious look.

“What do you think I should do?”

“There’s no choice but to confess.”

Nicholas answered instantly, making Lucien hesitate for a brief moment.

“…Wouldn’t she think it’s strange for me to say that now?”

‘What is this man saying, now of all times…?’

Lucien’s anxiety really was far too late.

From what Nicholas had heard, Marguerite understood that Lucien had treated her harshly because he was bound by the rivalry between their houses. She made no complaints about her own situation and earnestly tried to fulfill her role as a wife—that was proof enough.

Because of that, Lucien’s presence likely did not loom that large in Marguerite’s heart.

“If you don’t make her aware of you first, nothing’s going to start.”

Letting out a low groan, Lucien dropped his face onto the table. Marron promptly began patting the back of his head with a front paw.

“Do you think she really isn’t conscious of me at all…?”

‘Lucien was fairly popular in high society too, though…’

Despite his unfriendly demeanor, his status as the future duke and his cold, beautiful features had irresistibly drawn the attention of young ladies. Yet Lucien had brushed all of them aside without a glance. Perhaps this was simply karma coming back around.

‘She really was the perfect wife for him.’

Nicholas felt pleased that his intuition had been right—and that he had glimpsed a pitiful yet very human side of his friend.

At the same time—

‘Maybe I should look for a way to lend a hand myself.’

Sensing that things might spiral in a strange direction if left alone, Nicholas found himself picturing a certain person.