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Chapter 9
When she descended to the first-floor lobby, there was a familiar face waiting.
It was Alvin, who was in charge of cleaning the third floor where the duke’s office was located.
The reason she immediately picked him out among the bustling lobby crowd was simple—he had fixed his gaze sharply on her the very moment she entered.
Yet, even as she walked straight up to him, Alvin simply kept staring without offering so much as a greeting.
He had always been rude, but today it was worse than usual.
Watching his behavior, Ellen finally opened her mouth reluctantly.
“What are you just staring at blankly for? Shouldn’t you be guiding me to where the carriage is?”
At that, Alvin suddenly jerked his head up.
His eyes widened, and he shot up from his seat as if spring-loaded.
“M-my apologies, milady! I-I’ll escort you right away.”
It felt as though someone had kicked the air out of him, leaving him dazed.
When the enchanting woman in a crimson dress approached from afar, he had idly wondered what household’s young lady she might be from—surely she must be one of those noblewomen he often glimpsed at parties while serving his master.
But as the young lady came closer and closer, he had grown tense without realizing it.
Gulp. He swallowed dryly. The beautiful lady seemed to be heading directly toward him, as though she had business with him, and he simply couldn’t remain calm.
And then, she actually spoke to him. Of course he was startled.
But what truly made his eyes fly open was not that she addressed him.
It was the realization that this woman was none other than the Duchess of Crembel.
Alvin panicked.
Was this really the mistress he knew?
Yet the elegant noblewoman walking with such grace—her heels clicking neatly, her posture unshaken—was undeniably the duchess he served.
It took him quite some time to recover from that shock.
Luckily for him, he wasn’t the only one behaving so discourteously.
From the moment Ellen had arrived at the ducal estate, every single person she encountered—whether the guards at the gate or the maids inside—had reacted the same way.
Thinking about it, it wasn’t so strange.
The duchess had always worn modest, muted dresses befitting a cultured lady of the house, never heavy makeup, and only neat, practical shoes.
No wonder the woman before them now looked like someone else entirely.
Who would ever take this dazzlingly dressed, opulent noblewoman to be the Duchess of Crembel?
The duchess they knew had always been restrained, refined, and reserved.
But whatever his confusion, Alvin recovered quicker than the others and managed to escort her to the duke’s office on the third floor.
“Your Grace, the mistress has arrived.”
When he announced it, the duke’s voice rang out from inside: “Let her in.”
As Alvin opened the door, Ellen swept past him into the office.
Once she stepped fully inside, Alvin closed the door quietly, leaving only Ellen and Gillian in the room.
Ellen stood still, fixing her gaze straight ahead.
Gillian lifted his head.
His brows were drawn tight, his lips pressed into a hard line—his displeasure plain to see.
From that sour expression, Ellen vaguely sensed he would not give her the answer she sought today.
She waited for him to speak.
“…?”
Something was strange.
He had looked up as though ready to lash out at her, but then… silence. He said nothing at all.
Ellen, puzzled, met Gillian’s eyes.
For a brief moment, there seemed to be some flicker of unrest in them.
…I was sure he would immediately shout. Could it be he really did prepare the divorce papers?
Her eyes quickly scanned him—his hands, his desk, the shelves around him.
But nowhere did she see anything resembling divorce papers.
“What exactly is the reason you called me here today—”
“The servants who caused problems have been replaced. I admit there were issues I failed to notice.”
…What?
Ellen’s mind went blank.
An admission of fault? From him?
This man… truly?
She stared at him in a daze.
Then questions burst inside her like fireworks.
Why now? Why so easily? After all this time? Why not before?
Overwhelmed by the rush of emotion, Ellen could only stare at Gillian, bewildered.
She suddenly wondered if the man before her was even the one she knew.
Had some miracle struck him? Or had he always been capable of change, and her own foolish inexperience in youth had led only to tragedy?
If so… then what about her?
As she sank into that mire of thoughts, Gillian’s voice pulled her back.
“From now on, I’ll leave authority over the servants’ management to you. If complaints arise again, don’t create tiresome noise. Speak to me directly.”
With that, Gillian sank back deeply into his chair, as though finished.
But Ellen did not speak further, nor did she leave. She simply stood there.
When she still hadn’t moved long after she normally would have taken her leave, Gillian shot her a glance and said:
“Why are you still standing there? And what’s with that attire? If that’s yet another complaint of yours—fine, I’ll overlook it within the estate, but show restraint yourself.”
He flicked his hand dismissively, clearly telling her to leave.
Only then did Ellen come to her senses—at the sight of that all-too-familiar gesture with which he always declared his rejection of her.
“…Perhaps you should grant such authority to the new Duchess Crembel you’ll be bringing in. If you still refuse to seal the papers today, I’ll take my leave.”
Yes. He couldn’t have changed so easily.
He would always handle matters on his own terms, without her input.
Ellen almost laughed at herself for expecting otherwise, even briefly. Turning, she grasped the door handle.
“What exactly is it you’re so dissatisfied about? Speak clearly!”
Suddenly Gillian slammed his desk and shot to his feet, his voice thunderous.
His eyes glared at her like daggers.
But Ellen only gazed back with a deep, steady look.
She felt nothing.
Even faced with his fury, she was struck by how numb she’d become—how the emotions she once had for him had been replaced with a sense of bitter absurdity.
“I am speaking clearly. You’re the one who refuses to understand.”
“You call talk of divorce ‘clear’? It seems it’s not your mouth but your mind that’s twisted.”
“I said plainly that my grievance is you. If you can’t hear it, then it must be your ears that are twisted. Instead of blaming others, reflect on your own actions first.”
Her unexpected words left Gillian speechless.
He gave a short, incredulous laugh and swept his hair back.
“Hah… what? Say that again.”
“You asked, so I’ll repeat it. My grievance is you. As you said, I lack refinement and am unfit to remain in House Crembel. So, for the sake of your noble honor, divorce me.”
“Does Count Crayant know of this? Do you even understand who arranged this marriage?”
His sneer was biting.
“You have nowhere to run. I admit I’ve neglected certain matters—my fault. But that’s all. Enough now.”
Ellen simply stared at him for a moment, then turned to leave.
“…When we meet again, I hope the papers bear your seal.”
“Ellen Crembel!”
Her husband’s shout followed her, but she ignored it and stepped out.
“James!”
“Yes, my lord.”
“As head of this household, it’s my duty to protect my people. See to the mistress’s safety!”
In that instant, Ellen understood what was to come.
As her father had feared, as she herself had feared—Gillian had decided to imprison her in this mansion.
The butler swiftly gathered the house knights. Ellen was dragged away under the pretense of being “protected,” but in truth, it was surveillance.
“…So this is the method you’ve chosen. My past self should be ashamed.”
Ashamed that she had ever loved a man like him.
With that final thought, she was once again confined to that dreadful mansion.
Knock, knock.
As Gillian cooled his temper with a chilled drink, a small knock came at his door.
“…Enter.”
“Count Crayant has arrived, my lord. He is waiting in the reception room on the first floor.”
“What?”
Gillian’s voice dripped with irritation.
Crayant. Recently, that name grated on his ears more than any other.
“Did he say why he’s here?”
“He mentioned it was regarding his daughter… and also, these just arrived from the post.”
For Count Crayant, his daughter could only mean Ellen Crembel.
Gillian took the items James handed him.
“…Crayant?”
On top was an envelope sealed with the Crayant crest.
“Yes, I thought it might be related to the purpose of his visit today…”
With a hand heavy with annoyance, Gillian broke the seal.
