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Chapter 19
“What… What’s with that reaction?”
“That girl, an outrageous villainess? Who’s spouting such nonsense?”
“Don’t mess with me! Before I left, he said he had no interest in marriage!!”
Fieldram, fiercely loyal to Wilfred, was already bristling with hostility.
Given the subtle tension between Wilfred and Prisia, if you had to say who actually wanted this marriage, it was clearly the duke’s side.
Wilfred, who always did whatever he pleased, had for once clearly expressed his wish to marry the second daughter of Deblanc.
Yet this muscle-brained fool had come back, causing a ruckus and flipping the mansion upside down first thing in the morning.
“What’s going on here?”
“Wil!”
Fieldram lowered his sword reluctantly when Wilfred appeared in his robe.
Fieldram, who had stormed in looking ready to tear the place apart, seemed relieved that Wilfred looked calm and unchanged. But to Rasita’s eyes, Wilfred looked far from okay.
“Are you alright? They’re saying you’ve been bewitched by a villainess and are about to hand over all of Cromford.”
“How interesting.”
“Huh?”
Contrary to the expectation that he’d firmly deny such nonsense, Wilfred calmly agreed with Fieldram.
“I am bewitched. She might not be a villainess, but there’s definitely something strange about her.”
“W-What does that mean?”
“It sounds like you know exactly what’s wrong with me. Why don’t you tell me? I don’t mind hearing your theory.”
Fieldram, realizing Wilfred was calmly giving him a chance to speak, quickly lowered his tail and repeated exactly what he had heard.
“So, um, I heard that you’ve fallen head over heels for a woman…”
“So, you know I’ve fallen for a woman.”
Fieldram, whose fists usually came before thoughts, was strong but needed firm handling. Watching him instantly quiet down when Wilfred reined him in, both Rasita and the head maid nodded in silent approval.
“We’re expecting quite a few guests today, shall I fetch Lady Prisia now?”
“Leave her.”
“Pardon?”
“She must be tired. Let her rest.”
The duke declared he would handle the guests himself, and the head maid bowed respectfully.
As Rasita cleaned up the remaining mess to prepare for the guests, Wilfred drank his morning tea and asked Fieldram, who was still bowing:
“So, who exactly told you this nonsense?”
“I ran into Viscount Marseille on the way back. He claimed that the cunning woman who once dared challenge Marquis Gondaire has now seduced you into marriage.”
“Ah, Viscount Marseille. Gondaire’s brother-in-law, wasn’t he.”
It seemed that loose-tongued fool still hadn’t learned his place, even going so far as to spread such talk to Wilfred’s subordinates. Just thinking about it was insulting.
“I’m disappointed in you, Fieldram.”
“But even when I first heard it, I couldn’t believe it! You swore you’d never get married!”
If it were any other heir of a ducal family, maybe, but Wilfred was the type who would bend the rules and manipulate the entire legislature before agreeing to a marriage he didn’t want.
So why had he accepted this marriage? Fieldram, unable to understand, looked lost, and Wilfred gave a bitter smile.
“Just say it was love at first sight.”
“Am I seriously supposed to believe that?”
“I have nothing else to say. Regardless of what you think, she is now the Duchess of Cromford. Treat her with the respect that title deserves.”
The price for charging in recklessly was Wilfred’s cold rebuke, dripping with annoyance despite his calm.
“If you’re going to be like this, I’ll just have to see for myself.”
If she was truly a woman who would harm Wilfred, Fieldram could not just let it be.
Every instinct in his battle-honed body screamed that he had to confirm it with his own eyes.
As the formal guest reception began, Fieldram adjusted his grip on his sword and stood before the tightly closed bedroom door.
“You can’t do this!”
“Shut up, get out of the way!”
With a loud bang, he kicked the door open. A cold breeze brushed against his cheek as he stepped inside.
The window was wide open, the bed empty.
The Duchess of Cromford, who should have been peacefully asleep on the bed, was nowhere to be seen.
“Huh?”
Why did he have to barge in right now? Fieldram clutched his head in frustration.
* * *
“Mmm.”
As Prisia twisted in her sleep, she felt warmth beside her. It reminded her of how Lily, scared of thunder at night, would crawl into her bed for comfort.
As usual, she hugged her little sister tightly and patted her head.
“There, there, good girl, Lily.”
“……”
“Don’t be scared. I’m here, so everything will be okay.”
Even when Lily was struggling to adjust after her debut, she could always find comfort in Prisia’s presence.
No matter how unreasonable the bullying was, Lily would always ask if she had done something wrong.
But Lily had never done anything wrong.
If being unable to choose her parents was a crime, so be it, but it was too sad to think that way.
“No matter what anyone says, I’m on your side.”
Prisia hoped her poor little sister wouldn’t cry in secret.
She kept patting Lily’s head repeatedly, but something felt odd. The bed was too soft, and Lily’s hair, usually long, felt strangely short.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw in the morning sunlight was shimmering blond hair.
“Eeep!!”
She was hugging the sleeping duke.
Prisia quickly scrambled away, throwing a blanket over herself and curling up in a ball.
‘D-Don’t tell me… I attacked him in my sleep…’
She was used to hugging her sisters while sleeping, even using Rose’s arm as a pillow, and Lily would snuggle up to her for head pats.
She had always laughed it off, saying nothing would ever happen just from sharing a bed, but maybe she was the dangerous one.
“Hmmm.”
The duke began to stir, and Prisia squeezed her eyes shut, desperately pretending to be asleep.
‘D-Did it work?’
Thankfully, the duke didn’t say anything, rising quietly and drinking a glass of water before silently opening the window.
The cold air made her shiver under the blanket, but as she pretended to sleep, a strong arm slipped under her legs, gently laying her down properly.
She prayed he wouldn’t notice her trembling eyelids.
Even with her eyes closed, his overwhelming presence made it clear he was watching.
“No matter your intentions, I wish to live as a proper husband.”
His lips brushed softly against hers, and she opened her eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ll tell everyone not to disturb us, so rest well today. We’ll talk again tonight.”
The duke, hair tousled from sleep, picked up his robe with an expressionless face.
Scars marked his chest and back.
She remembered hearing once that they were from childhood injuries, but seeing them in person, even the old scars looked deep.
“I’ve shown you an unsightly sight.”
“I don’t think so at all. It’s a beautiful body.”
Despite the scars, a body with such firm, well-toned muscles was rare.
Too much muscle was overwhelming, while narrow shoulders ruined the silhouette of clothing. He had the perfect slim yet sturdy build.
“Rest.”
He frowned openly before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
For a moment, she wondered if she had said something wrong, but it was too late now.
Then, as she glanced out the wide-open window, Prisia realized:
“There’s no one watching.”
The bedroom was on the second floor. If she tore the curtains into a rope, she could theoretically escape.
Theoretically.
“If I jump wrong, I’ll just break my ankle.”
Running away in nothing but pajamas would leave her with almost zero chance of a safe escape.
She had survived the night safely as she wished, but she still had no idea what the duke truly intended.
“Well… after seeing that last night, it’s natural he’d cool off.”
Remembering the embarrassing mess she had made, she punched her pillow, only to realize that one of her ruby earrings was missing.
They were rare jewels, worth a fortune.
“Oh, come on.”
It had to be somewhere.
After searching every corner and even lifting the bed, she finally spotted the missing earring far under the bed.
“It looks pathetic, but oh well.”
At least the bed was tall enough for her to crawl under.
Tying up her pajama skirt, Prisia crawled under the bed to reach the earring.
Just as she was about to crawl back out, respecting the duke’s spotless cleanliness under the bed—
“You can’t do this!”
“Shut up, get out of the way!”
A man’s loud shout, followed by a bang as the door slammed open.
As footsteps rushed in, Prisia quickly pulled the bed cover back down.
“Huh?”
With the duchess missing and the window wide open, the scene was perfect for misunderstandings.
“The duchess is missing! Search the grounds immediately!”
As the head maid shouted urgently, Prisia peeked out to say it was a misunderstanding, but froze when she heard the next name.
“Fieldram, sir! What are you doing?!”
Fieldram, the right hand and “sword” of the Cromford Duke, was described in the fandom with only one title:
The God of Destruction, Fieldram.
Even the most obscure ships had a few fans, but this simple, muscle-brained character was so disliked that no one wanted him shipped with their favorite characters.
He was the perpetual antagonist, bringing chaos with his jealousy wherever he went, and now that Prisia had married the duke, she was apparently no exception.
