47 — A Vow Of Love

“—!?”

Before she could fully process what had happened, Lucien pulled away.

Marguerite hurriedly covered her mouth. She still felt as though the sensation of Lucien’s lips lingered there. And the strength of the arms that had held her, too.

“Lucien…-sama…?”

“Please bear witness, Your Highness.”

Beside the bewildered Marguerite, Lucien turned an unwavering gaze toward Noel.

“I swear that I will love Marguerite forever.”

What he spoke was a vow of love—one that had not even been exchanged at their wedding ceremony.

“Please wait! This concerns my family—this is my responsibility. I can’t cause Lucien-sama any trouble—”

“Marguerite.”

Her body jolted at the sharp call of her name.

Anger surged in his tone. She had angered Lucien. And so—so she wanted to bear the responsibility herself.

Yet the Lucien who should have been angry pulled Marguerite into his arms.

“I am your husband. How could I send my crying wife back to a house like that?”

“Lucien-sama…”

“Or do you dislike me? Do you dislike this house and want to leave it?”

The words, spoken as if to push her away, hurt so much that Marguerite knit her brows.

She knew she had to endure it, yet tears spilled from her eyes again.

“If you want a divorce, then say so. But I… I love you.”

“!”

Brows drawn together, face flushed, lips pressed tight—

With an expression that looked almost angry, Lucien declared it.

‘Ah— I’ve seen this face so many times.’

At last, Marguerite understood.

Why Lucien had been kind.

Why he had treated her with such care.

Her tears overflowed without stopping.

‘Lucien-sama tried again and again to stand by my side. And yet—how foolish I’ve been.’

She thought she didn’t need to be loved.

Even if she was hated, she had told herself it was still better than how she’d been treated before.

What had begun as an honest excuse had, before she knew it, become a shield to hide her own cowardice.

She had covered up her growing feelings, pretending not to see them.

But Lucien had broken the lock she’d placed on her heart.

“I…! I want to be with you too, Lucien-sama.”

She didn’t want to return to that house, to that miserable life.

Holding the tear-soaked Marguerite by the shoulders, Lucien wiped away her tears.

“…Your Highness Noel. This is who we truly are. Please render a fair judgment.”

“So, the two of you love each other,”

“Yes.”

Noel still wore a smile, one that gave nothing away about his inner thoughts.

Lucien faced him head-on, glaring.

In his deep-sea-colored eyes burned a resolve to fight to the very end rather than lose Marguerite.

—However.

“What is this, making everything about yourselves again, playing the tragedy…”

The voice, flat and unimpressed, belonged to Isabella standing beside Noel.

Clinging to Noel’s arm and peering up at him sweetly, Isabella let out an exasperated laugh.

“Noel-sama, they said the same sort of thing at the previous banquet. But that was nothing more than cheap acting to escape punishment.”

“I see. So there was an incident before as well.”

“Yes, saying things like ‘my beloved wife’—”

Isabella froze mid-motion.

Looking down at her, Noel still seemed to be smiling as usual, yet his eyes were chillingly cold.

Even when she blinked, wondering if she’d imagined it, the shiver racing up her spine refused to fade.

“So you knew there was affection between them. And knowing that, you brought accusations of wrongdoing by House de Broy against Lady Marguerite to me.”

“Ah… no, that’s—”

Isabella clapped a hand over her mouth. She realized too late that she had misspoken.

To her, Lucien and Marguerite’s tearful pleas had been no more than the opening act of a tedious play. What she had really been waiting for was what came after—the punishment Noel would pronounce upon them.

Growing impatient as she waited for it to end, fickle and thoughtless Isabella had forgotten even the role she was supposed to play.

Noel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“So this means you made a false accusation, Lady Isabella.”

Isabella’s expression froze solid.