I Have No Intention Of Loving You Either

‘So that’s it—Lord Lucien was worried about that. About me trying to ingratiate myself with House de Broy, clinging to him.’

Marguerite was delighted. If that was his concern, she could put it to rest at once.

“I have no intention of loving you either, so please don’t worry.”

Faced with her beaming smile and nod, Lucien was rendered speechless.

“……”

“Oh? Did I say something strange?”

Marguerite tilted her head.

From her perspective, he had said he had no intention of loving her, so she had merely told him that she agreed.

“This marriage is a political arrangement ordered by the royal family. Lord Lucien and I do not need to love one another. Considering the past relations between our houses, it would be difficult to feel affection anyway.”

What Marguerite said was correct.

Precisely because it was correct, and spoken without hesitation, Lucien found himself unable to argue.

In fact, it was because the people of House de Broy could not bring themselves to feel goodwill toward Marguerite that she was dressed like this and placed in such quarters.

“So it’s quite all right if you don’t love me. Of course, at ceremonies and official occasions, I will behave affectionately, just as the queen instructed. I have received proper training in etiquette, so please don’t worry about that either.”

Marguerite smiled gently.

“If you can guarantee my current living arrangements, I will do nothing that would damage the dignity of House de Broy.”

There was no falsehood in her lively voice or expression. To Lucien, Marguerite did not seem to be putting on a brave front.

Indeed, she was not. If anything, she was so filled with happiness that she had forgotten herself.

In that sense, Marguerite was a little carried away. Had she been her usual cautious self, she would have paid closer attention to Lucien’s expression.

“……”

“Lord Lucien?”

Only then did Marguerite realize something was amiss.

Stunned by the unexpected cascade of words, Lucien was snapped back to himself when Marguerite peered at his face, and he quickly turned away.

“—I’m leaving.”

“Yes. Thank you very much for speaking with me.”

Though Lucien spoke curtly, Marguerite still offered him a respectful bow. She wore an outdated, old dress, but just as she had said, it was the bow of someone properly trained in etiquette.

“……Thanking me—are you mocking me?”

“No. Aligning values is important for a married couple.”

Even if they were a marriage in name only—no, precisely because they were, the boundaries needed to be clearly drawn. Lucien had not demanded that she read his mind; he had plainly stated his wishes.

And though he tried to act coldly, Marguerite felt that Lucien was not the kind of man who treated others cruelly.

‘If it were Father or Isabella, a conversation this long would be impossible.’

Lucien seemed bewildered by Marguerite’s response, but he did not strike her, did not hurl abuse at her—at heart, he was probably a kind person.

Having grown up surrounded by inhuman family members, Marguerite’s tolerance had become remarkably broad.

At the door, Lucien turned back toward her.

Marguerite stood to see him off, smiling.

“Good day, Lord Lucien.”

The door closed without a sound, separating him from Marguerite.

There was no reply from Lucien.

“—Ah! I forgot to ask him to take me to the sea!”

The moment she was alone, Marguerite cried out as she remembered her most important wish.

“Well, it wouldn’t have worked if I said it just now anyway. Still, I think I’ll be able to get along with Lord Lucien just fine, and as the future head’s wife, I’ll probably need to make appearances in the territory.”

If she went out a few times and showed that she would properly fulfill her role as a wife, he would surely take her to the de Broy lands.

For Marguerite, things were still going smoothly.

Meanwhile, Lucien left the library and strode quickly down the corridor, irritated by his own confusion.

‘What is that girl?’

He had thought he was pushing her away. He had intended to make the pitiful girl—who had left her family to marry into the home of a political enemy, and was ignored even by the servants—realize that even the husband she should most rely on was not on her side.

And yet Marguerite, with a smile unclouded by anything, had told him that she, too, had no intention of loving him.

Having the same words thrown back at him without any ulterior meaning, Lucien became keenly aware of his own selfishness—of how cruel his words had been.

Of the ugly sense of superiority that had hoped she would cry and cling to him after being hurt.

Marguerite was far calmer and more clear-sighted about the situation.

If divorce was impossible under the queen’s order, then the optimal choice was for both of them to accept it and keep their distance.

And yet, with resentment lingering in one’s heart, life should have been painful.

‘How can she smile like that?’

There was only one possible answer.

Marguerite bore no hostility toward House de Broy— even as House de Broy desperately tried to drive her out.