BOMW 52

chapter 52

While everyone was storming into the Carlisle Duke’s mansion, there was one young lady practically imprisoned in her own bedroom.

“I want to go too, brother! They say the Duke of Carlisle is on the verge of divorcing right now!”

“Stop saying nonsense and stay put.”

“Then at least untie me! I won’t run away, I promise, brother—please!”

“If you run away, everyone knows the first place you’ll head is the Duke’s mansion.”

Rosamund’s arms were bound to the bedposts as she struggled furiously.
After she had tried to run to the Duke’s mansion several times, her brother, Baron Lassendil, had resorted to this last measure to restrain her. He looked down at his flailing sister with a mixture of pity and irritation before turning his gaze away.

Even before and after his marriage, the Duke of Carlisle was constantly the object of women’s attention — his exceptional looks, his power as the Emperor’s right hand, and his ever-growing prestige in the Empire made women fall helplessly in love with him.
Until now, they had been unable to approach openly because of his wife.
But the rumor that the Duchess had submitted divorce papers spread like wildfire, and it was obvious how every young lady’s heart would be fluttering.

Rosamund Lassendil was one of them.

On the surface, she stayed close to Sibelom as his lover, but deep down, she had always longed to stand beside the Duke of Carlisle.
The only reason she had attached herself to Sibelom in the first place was because she thought there was no chance of getting near the Duke.
But Baron Lassendil absolutely refused to let her set foot in the Duke’s mansion.

“If you go there, it’ll be the greatest humiliation, Rosamund. Do you think your presence will change anything? That you can take the Duchess’s place?”

“I can give him an heir. The one thing no one else has managed to do.”

Rosamund raised her chin arrogantly.
Her brother’s face momentarily froze in disbelief, and she continued triumphantly:

“I’m completely different from the current Duchess, who’s barren.
If I can just spend one night with the Duke, I can give him an heir.”

Seeing her brother’s startled look, Rosamund smiled smugly — as if she were already the Duchess of Carlisle.

“I’m confident I can give him a healthy heir, so send me there quickly.”

“You’re carrying another man’s child, and you have the audacity to say that?”

Baron Lassendil raised his hand as if to slap her.

“There’s nothing about you I don’t know, Rosamund.
It was I who pushed you into the palace, I who attached you to Duke Sibelom.
Everything you have, you have because of me — how can you not see that?”

Rosamund bit her lip hard as her brother’s harsh words hit her.
Her usually gentle face twisted with anger — something he’d never seen before.
But she couldn’t deny it.

The Duke of Carlisle, whom she had adored for so long, had eyes only for his wife. No matter how hard she tried, she could never slip into that narrow space between them.
But now — now that the Duchess had filed for divorce — maybe she still had a chance…

Rosamund’s wavering eyes made Baron Lassendil snap.

“Have you forgotten your dream of becoming the Empire’s Empress?
Of sitting on the throne as the future Queen?
Do you know how much I groveled to get you close to Sibelom, and now you dare turn your eyes toward Carlisle?”

“But, brother… honestly, the Duke of Carlisle is a far better husband candidate than Duke Sibelom. If I use this opportunity to stand beside him—”

“Shut up! After everything I’ve done to raise you up, you’re losing your mind over a pretty face? You fool, get a grip!”

He grabbed her chin roughly and barked:

“Stay right beside Sibelom as planned! Make sure the child in your belly becomes the Empire’s heir! Don’t you dare look elsewhere!”

Rosamund’s eyes trembled in fear.

“And what if this child isn’t Sibelom’s?”

“Then make it so.”

His cold gaze bored into his foolish sister.

“Say nothing more, and prepare yourself to become Duchess Sibelom.”

Meanwhile, inside the Duke of Carlisle’s mansion, filled to bursting with young noblewomen—
Among the crowd of ladies, Pervin stood pale-faced, biting his lip.
He had clearly told everyone that he would not approve of a divorce from Irwen.

‘I’ve made it clear enough. Maybe now they’ll back off.’

Every time a hand other than his wife’s brushed against him, he flinched and his face stiffened in discomfort. He wanted this situation to end quickly.
But that was a naïve hope.

The young ladies ignored his protests and crowded even closer.

“Oh, come now, Your Grace.”

“Our families have discussed marriage before, haven’t they? Perhaps you might consider reviving that connection?”

“Our family is famous for bearing children easily — five or more every generation!
If you make me your wife, I’ll give you a healthy heir right away!”

“Step back, all of you! Irwen might see this! I won’t have her misunderstand me!”

Pervin looked utterly tormented as he struggled to push the young women off him.
He barely managed to pry away the ones who were touching his chest and staring dreamily at his handsome, flustered face — but like bees to honey, they just kept coming.

It was as if, with Irwen — that untouchable restraint — gone, they’d all gone mad.

“You do know why we’re here, don’t you, Your Grace?”

“The Duchess herself arranged this gathering!
She said you could choose a new bride you liked!”

“That famous Count Evelin must have been wrong.
He said there’d be no divorce, but look! The Duchess herself filed the papers!”

The moment he heard divorce papers, Pervin snapped.
He shoved the women away and spoke coldly:

“I told you — I will never divorce my wife.”

His words, sharp enough to freeze the air, burned with fierce passion.
Everyone froze at the intensity of his obsession.

The Duke’s tone was completely different from the rumors.
The Duchess had supposedly confessed she couldn’t bear children and agreed to a temporary separation.
But judging from Pervin’s demeanor, divorce was not an option.
Which was true?

“But it was the Duchess who called us!
She said since she can’t give the Duke an heir and has already submitted divorce papers, she wanted to invite suitable young ladies from noble families for you to choose from!”

For the first time in his life, Pervin was angry with Irwen.
He gritted his teeth, barely controlling his rage, and harshly brushed away any hands still touching him.

“Lady Tilly! Alfred! Send these young ladies back to their homes immediately and clear up these absurd rumors!”

Lady Tilly bowed and asked cautiously:

“Then… what shall we do with the divorce papers the Duchess placed on your desk, Your Grace?”

“Divorce papers? Forget those — I need to see Irwen. Now.”

“The Duchess is waiting in your study, my lord.”

“You could’ve said that earlier!”

Pervin bit his lip hard and stormed upstairs.

‘What in the world are you thinking, Irwen?’

He climbed two steps at a time, reaching the study in an instant — unaware that a crowd of curious noblewomen and servants were following behind.
He slammed the door shut — though it bounced open just a crack.
Through that small gap, dozens of eyes peeked in.

Inside, Irwen sat calmly, dressed in a modest black gown.
Her beautiful face was composed, resolute.
As he entered, she rose and greeted him formally.

“Welcome, Your Grace, Duke of Carlisle.”

The formality of her tone struck him like a blow.
It was as if she were addressing a stranger, not her husband.
His heart sank. Everything felt alien — and terrifying.

He hurried toward her, wanting to do as he always did — to lower his head and kiss her — but she turned away.

“Please don’t, my lord.”

His pale face went even whiter.

“Since when have you called me that so stiffly, Irwen?”

“Since we’re soon to be divorced, I thought it appropriate.”

He frowned, running a hand through his hair — the soft strands falling helplessly over his forehead.

“What is this about?”

“Didn’t Lord Salebar and Lord Bocelli tell you?
They handed me the divorce papers, and I simply accepted.
As they said, the Carlisle family has no use for a woman who cannot bear children.”

“When did this—…damn it…”

Shock and pain filled Pervin’s face.
He brushed past her to the desk — and there it was.
A single sheet of paper, Divorce Papers, written clearly across the top.

He clenched his jaw and held it up toward her.

“You submitted this?”

“Yes. Is there… a problem?”

Her calmness only made his emotions boil hotter.
He looked out at the peaceful garden, trying to steady his breathing, but the thought of her leaving made him feel like he was dying.

Unable to contain himself, he tore the papers to shreds.

Irwen blinked, startled.
Just the thought of those beautiful eyes looking away from him — toward anyone else — filled him with unbearable fury.

Irwen is mine. She has to stay by my side.

He pulled her roughly into his arms, holding her close until their lips were almost touching.
Her small frame rested against his chest, trembling slightly — and he growled softly:

“I told you, I don’t need this.”

“But you must have an heir, my lord. Didn’t you hear what the elders said?”

“An heir…”

He lowered his head — his lips brushed hers.
His breath burned hot against her mouth.
Irwen’s eyes quivered.
When he bit gently at her lower lip, she trembled all over.

“You talk of heirs — have you ever truly been with me?”

He said it deliberately — loud enough for the eavesdropping women to hear.
As expected, Irwen’s eyes widened in shock.

If all of this — the elders’ demands, her inviting the young ladies — was part of her plan, then fine.
He’d play along.
Since the audience had come of their own accord, he’d show them plainly just how much he desired his wife — in front of everyone.

Everything had been perfect in my plan.

If I spread a rumor about our divorce, Pervin would come running — and so would all those noble ladies waiting to pounce.
I invited them on purpose, planning to show that our marriage was solid despite my infertility.
Once they gathered, I’d secretly signal to Pervin so we could put on a united front, proving before everyone that there would never be a divorce.

But his reaction was far more intense than I’d expected.
I knew he’d cling when I mentioned divorce — but what?
We’ve never truly slept together?

Wasn’t I supposed to be using him?
Why did it feel like he was now using me?

Flustered, my voice came out trembling.

“We’ve been sharing a bed regularly, haven’t we?”

“Not that. We’ve never really been together — not properly.”

Was it my imagination, or did that faint smile on his lips look predatory?
There was something slow and dangerous in his eyes — a hunter’s patience.
I stared at him, speechless.

“We’ve been together plenty of times. How can you—”

Pervin’s eyes softened, and he said clearly enough for everyone outside to hear:

“You remember, don’t you? We’ve shared more than a few nights.
But Irwen — there’s something you should know.
There’s a difference between merely holding someone and truly pouring your strength into them.
And I haven’t even begun to give you my full strength yet.”

The blatant words made my face burn.
Outside, I could feel the collective gasp — some of the young ladies even fainted.
When I glanced toward the door, muffled sobs broke out.

“How could they possibly be divorcing when they’re that close?”

“We came all this way for this?
He loves his wife so deeply — it just makes us feel pathetic.”

Servants rushed to carry out the fainted ladies.

Then, Pervin’s hand slid slowly through my hair, down to my cheek, tracing my heated lips.
His emerald eyes blazed with a possessive fire that rooted me to the spot.

Without giving me a chance to cool my flushed face, he whispered, his voice low and fierce:

“And Irwen — you should know this too.
I’ll never let you go. Never.
My body’s already addicted to you, and you know it.
Besides…”

His hand moved down, caressing my stomach.

“Our children wouldn’t want that either.
So don’t even think about running from me.”

The look on his face — that mix of tenderness and obsession — made it clear.

“You can never leave my side.”