ACMBC 21

Chapter : 21

She even closed the book she had been reading so intently, but only silence filled the study.
There had been no progress, despite the bold claim that they should get their stories straight.

Cedric dragged a wooden chair over and sat facing Loren.
From time to time, a low hum escaped him—hmm.

Beside him, Loren flipped through the newspaper again.
Most of the articles were trash, but she might still find a usable idea.

“It says that the Earl Collins fell in love with me at first sight and passionately courted me.
I actually think that’s not a bad angle. We did meet not long ago, after all.”

Cedric, chin propped on his hand, twisted his brows.

“My aunt will see through that lie instantly.”
“And what makes you so sure?”
“Because… she knows I’m not someone who falls in love at first sight.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His face was smiling, yet looked utterly cold.

His narrowed emerald eyes gleamed with chilling certainty.
For once, Loren couldn’t find a comeback.

“Who wrote garbage like this? The writer sounds more suited to fiction than journalism.”

She followed his light remark and checked the end of the column.
Only a single letter—T—was listed instead of a name.

“Just the initial T. Taylor, Timothy, Thomas… who knows.”

Loren dug through the drawers for a fountain pen filled with red ink, then slashed two thick lines across the article.
The words “fell in love at first sight” vanished under the ink.

“All right, Cedric. Then you tell me. Where we first met, how we ended up together, and why we decided to marry.”

“First meeting… let’s say we bumped into each other in an alley. Better than a gambling den.”

“That is gloriously cliché.”

“Not cliché—classic. People only believe what they want to believe.
We just have to give them a story that goes down easy.”

At his shameless response, Loren jabbed her finger at the T.

“You’re in no place to insult journalists.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, my wife.”

The title grated on her nerves, but she needed to get used to it.
Loren forced her expression not to stiffen.

Cedric seemed very amused by her reactions, grinning openly.
Any semblance of courtesy he had—never much to begin with—had vanished.
He was back to the carefree rake she’d met in the gambling den.

“…Do you have to act like that even when no one’s around?”
“Better to practice early. Imagine reacting like you are now in front of others.
You look like you’re chewing on spoiled fish.”

Cedric exaggerated her expression in a crude mimicry.
His intention to irritate her was painfully obvious.

“So we bumped shoulders in an alley. Then what?”

Loren hurried to steer the topic back before she got dragged into his pace.

“You dropped something fragile you were carrying.
I apologized and offered to compensate you.
And that led to this. How’s that?”

He paused at this, as though marriage were some tragic mishap.

“Wait. Let me think.”

Loren pictured the scene in her mind.

Cedric walking down the alley from the other side.
Their shoulders brushing by chance.
Something glass slipping from her hand—a bottle, a trinket—shattering.
Clink!
Their eyes meeting.

“Not bad. Sounds like fate, actually.
But what exactly is that fragile item?”

“How should I know? You were the one holding it.”

“Excuse me? Did you rewrite the memory already?”

“If you can’t decide…”

Cedric snapped his fingers as if struck by genius.

“Let’s say it was a bottle of liquor.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You’re the mad bride, aren’t you?
A woman who throws drawers could easily roam the streets with a bottle.”

“Your aunt would just love that. Absolutely not.”

Cedric grabbed the pen, and on a blank corner of the paper wrote:

1. Crashed while holding liquor bottle — rejected.

His handwriting was annoyingly neat.

“Fine, you come up with something better.”

He added a 2 underneath.

“Let’s say Lady Bailey fell in love with you at first sight and pursued you.”

Cedric froze mid-writing and stared at her as if checking whether she was serious.

And she was.
Just as he said—people believe what they want.
And what could be more convincing than a doomed marriage beginning with love at first sight—on the bride’s side?

“Not the most popular tale, but easy to explain.
Instead of a liquor bottle, I’ll drop a cake box.
Losing a cake but gaining a countess title—people will call me lucky.”

The sarcasm slipped out on instinct.
Lucky—what an absurd word for her.

Lucky people are not hunted.
Lucky people do not end up bound to a kidnapper’s whims.

“…I’ve been waiting for the right moment, and this seems like it.”

Cedric muttered cryptically, then reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small navy velvet box.

He set it atop the newspaper.
Loren could guess exactly what was inside.

“Engagement rings?”

She slowly opened it.
Inside were two rings—simple gold bands set with a single violet magic stone.
Not flashy, but unmistakably crafted by a master.

And magic stones were anything but ordinary.
Easily worth more than a house.

“Engagement rings.
It looks strange if we wear nothing at all.
So let’s say I proposed.
My ardent wooing succeeded. And so we truly…”

He trailed off, taking the larger ring for himself.
Loren picked up hers.

They slid the rings on their left ring fingers—dry, perfunctory.

“…You’ve become precious to me. Truly, Loren.”

If she didn’t know him better, she might have believed it.
His face was gentle and sincere enough.

But the box was sitting on a newspaper.
And the ring, bought without asking, was a size too big and slipping already.

The absurdity of it all overwhelmed her.
Still wearing the ring, she let out a laugh.

“You could have been a fine actor, Cedric.”
“And you would’ve been cast opposite me.”

He dumped the letters and newspapers in the trash, then stood up without hesitation.

Left alone in the study, Loren resumed reading Ecstatic Love.
The slightly loose ring was terribly uncomfortable.

* * *

Elina Warren.
Born Elina Collins.
Cedric’s aunt.

Cedric had described her as a difficult person.
She raised the young earl for three years after his parents died,
then suddenly returned to her previous home.

She visited several times a year afterward,
but the Warren viscount’s estate was near the border,
so their contact dwindled as he grew.

“I haven’t seen her recently.
She’s sensitive, but not someone who causes trouble without reason.
Is that explanation good enough?”

“I think I’ll need to meet her myself…”

Loose strands tickled Loren’s neck where they had slipped from her pinned-up hair.

She had spent the entire morning trying on dresses.
The pearl-satin gown she settled on suited her beautifully,
but she would gladly trade it if the meeting could be over already.

“We’ll be dealing with this constantly; better get used to it.
Both of us.”

“I know.
I read every letter you picked out for me.
And we’ll have a wedding eventually.
Cedric—have you already forgotten who proposed?”

“I did.”

He wiggled the ring on his left hand right in front of her face.

“Right, that was the setup.”

“Loren, don’t slip up once we’re there.”