Am I Allowed To Be Happy?

Cradled in Lucien’s arms, Marguerite shifted slightly.

They had failed to see Noel off, an act of discourtesy. It had been done by his kindness, so there would likely be no punishment—but still…

Now that she understood Noel had been acting for this very outcome, guilt made her shrink inward.

‘We caused Lord Noel trouble for so long… If Father-in-law and Mother-in-law hear what happened in House de Broy, they’ll be terribly saddened as well.’

And above all, there was Lucien.

Thinking about what expression he might be wearing made her too afraid to lift her face.

A small sigh fell from above her head, and Marguerite flinched.

Lucien’s hands cupped her lowered face, lifting it gently.

“You’re thinking it’s your fault again, aren’t you?”

“Eh…?”

Peering into her face, Marguerite’s eyes widened.

Lucien was smiling.

A gentle smile filled with relief—as though everything was finally over.

“It is my fault, isn’t it…? I caused Lord Noel and everyone in House de Broy so much trouble…”

“It isn’t your fault.”

He stated it clearly, without hesitation, and Marguerite was taken aback.

Seeing her reaction, Lucien almost furrowed his brows—then hastily smoothed the crease away, as if realizing that was the wrong thing to do.

Thinking back, to when Marguerite had been treated harshly by everyone in the house—

She had not complained even once about her circumstances. On the contrary, she had endured the harassment earnestly, as if trying to ease their resentment.

Lucien had accepted as natural Marguerite’s words—that some friction was inevitable between rival houses. And yet, the Marguerite who said that had never directed a shred of hostility toward House de Broy.

“You have a habit of thinking that all negative feelings around you are your fault. And you fail to recognize injustice.”

“!”

“That way of thinking needs to change. …What happened this time was your sister’s doing. It has nothing to do with you. You tried to stop it. She was the one who brushed your hand away.”

‘Is that… really so…?’

Marguerite fell silent. Once more, Lucien’s hand came to rest against her cheek. When she looked up, he wore a pained expression.

“I love you.”

“L-Lucien-sama…”

“That means you are what I value most, Marguerite. Even if I were to abandon House de Broy and my current position, I would still want to be with you. …Please don’t ever forget that.”

“That’s…!”

Marguerite couldn’t accept his words.

But to deny them would be to deny Lucien’s love itself.

“You feel the same. That’s why you asked for the marriage to be dissolved.”

“T-that’s… because between my position and yours, Lucien-sama, what you would lose—”

“You were prepared to lose your happiness. What’s the difference?”

Faced with that, Marguerite had no reply.

She was intelligent enough to understand what Lucien meant. If they cared for each other, it was only natural to respect the other’s existence.

Lucien would never want to secure his own peace by sacrificing Marguerite.

At the same time, if Lucien had wished it, Marguerite would have accepted it gladly.

She finally realized that this twisted sense of values had been planted in her by House Clavel.

“Am I… allowed to be happy?”

Was it truly all right to desperately protect the happiness she had obtained?

“Of course.”

Lucien’s lips brushed her forehead.

Then he lowered his face, letting it rest softly against her shoulder.

“Nicholas told me, too—that I should speak my thoughts more. …So I intend to say them, as much as I can.”

“…Sharon told me something similar.”

“I see. Then let’s both be mindful of it. …I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t forget that I want to know how you feel.”

“Yes. I will…”

Tears shimmered in Marguerite’s eyes.

‘After all, Lucien-sama really is a kind man.’

She wiped away her tears and lifted her face with a smile—

And froze.

Lucien and Marguerite were in the reception room of House de Broy.

Noel and his party had already left, but of course the door had not been locked. It was open wide enough for someone to pass through—likely forgotten by an attendant.

Through that gap, Alban, Lady Yumila, Anna, Richard, Marron, and several familiar servants were peering in—some with worried expressions, others with clear relief.

“…!? L-Lucien-sama…!!”

“What is it?”

Marguerite cried out in a flustered voice.

At that exact moment, the door shut neatly, as though nothing at all had happened.