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chapter 1
“Would you consider divorce?”
Today, for the first time, Briony met her husband’s eyes.
Keith Dalmor, Earl of Ebony, was a busy man. He usually stayed home about one day a week, and on other days, even catching a glimpse of him in the morning and evening was considered frequent. The countess, though not as occupied as her husband, had her own duties to keep her busy all day. So when she answered his summons and sat across from him, the first words she heard were those.
Divorce.
She echoed it silently to herself.
She hadn’t misheard. The moment she understood the weight of the word, her mind went blank. All she could do was blink instinctively and look at her husband sitting opposite her.
The study’s lighting was dim. Keith sat with the lamp at his back. His ash-colored hair looked almost brown, and his eyes appeared darker than usual. But his expression was cold enough that Briony knew this was no joke.
Even so, she couldn’t accept it. As soon as she caught her breath, she asked:
“May I ask why?”
After all, it had been a marriage of convenience.
Three years ago, Briony’s father had wanted to tie his baronet family to a higher house, so he hurried his daughter into society as soon as she turned twenty.
Though she lacked charm, wit, or skill in music and dance, the only daughter of a rural baronet received a proposal—from none other than the young earl of the prestigious Dalmor family. The ladies of society all said the earl’s judgment was as sharp as his appearance. Briony, after all, came with a very large dowry.
At least it’s better than having no dowry, she had once consoled herself. A marriage without affection or warmth had lasted peacefully for three years. But now…
A divorce?
Keith’s answer was brief.
“I don’t think I can continue this marriage any longer.”
“Have I done something wrong?”
“No.”
He replied immediately.
“You’re young.”
“You mean because I’m young, we can’t continue our marriage?”
He seemed to be choosing his words. Though he called her young, he himself was only twenty-five. And, if it could be said so, he was far more thoughtful than his years. The only men Briony really knew were her father and her husband.
But… can I even say I know this man?
They had lived under one roof for three years as husband and wife.
Yet he felt like a stranger. Their relationship had always been distant; Keith was dignified, rational, and therefore predictable and easy to deal with. Briony had considered him a good man.
In Ebony, she had found a sense of stability her family in Arlington had never provided. That was part of why she thought him a good husband. But now Keith was threatening that stability—so easily—with just one word: divorce.
She was confused. And when, after a long pause, Keith finally spoke again, her confusion deepened.
“This marriage has no meaning.”
“But we didn’t marry for meaning, did we?”
She hadn’t intended it, but her words sounded like an allusion to her dowry. Then what about that vast dowry that came with her into House Dalmor? If she returned home without reclaiming it, her father would never take her back.
Since Keith was the one unilaterally demanding the divorce, she could claim a large portion as alimony. But even then, what would happen to Ebony, the Dalmor estate? She worried, because she liked living in Ebony.
But I can’t ask to stay here, can I?
For him to bring up divorce first and so suddenly meant he had already made up his mind. Politeness aside, he was decisive and efficient in his actions. Briony was not so dense as to cling and beg him to reconsider.
Perhaps because her heart was heavy, his voice sounded heavier, too.
“This isn’t the life I hoped for when I married.”
“Am I not the kind of wife you wanted?”
“Briony.”
His tone softened. That only made Briony stiffen more. It felt strange that just speaking of divorce made her chest ache like this. After all, all they had ever shared was a few brief touches of the hand, nothing more. They had only played the roles of husband and wife.
She placed a hand gently over her chest. At first she thought her heart had stopped, but no—it was beating, only a little faster than usual. She drew in a quiet breath, slow enough that Keith wouldn’t notice. Deep breaths made unwelcome situations easier to accept.
Meanwhile, Keith was still trying to persuade her.
“You’re young. You deserve a better marriage than this.”
“I wasn’t the one who said we couldn’t continue this marriage.”
She was about to ask for an explanation when realization struck.
“Do you… want children?”
A child—an heir—was crucial to any noble house. All the more so for Dalmor, where heirs were scarce. The late earl had only one son, Keith, and a daughter who had died tragically in an accident years ago.
If that was the reason, she could almost understand his demand. Their marriage was entirely contractual, and unlike similar arrangements, it lacked even the usual duties expected of such unions. Briony, as countess, had never even tried to fulfill the most important duty.
Honestly, I don’t want children…
But if Keith had asked, maybe she would have compromised. Adoption was always an option.
Keith shook his head.
“It’s not about children.”
“Then that’s a relief. I’m actually quite satisfied with my life as it is.”
“…”
“But clearly, you weren’t.”
At least her voice didn’t tremble as she said it.
Briony truly hadn’t known. If she had, she would have tried harder. She didn’t know exactly what she could have done to make him happy in their marriage, but she would have tried something.
Keith was a busy, courteous husband, largely indifferent to her. He had told her to speak up if she ever needed anything. Thanks to her dowry, they lived in comfort, and Briony wanted for nothing. She had assumed such detached marriages were normal among nobles. Since he left her alone, she had done the same.
Then why didn’t he say something before asking for divorce?
But she didn’t voice the thought. She, too, had her pride. Not the pride of a woman who brought a vast dowry into a poor earl’s household—that money wasn’t hers, but her father’s, and it had been his decision both to give it and to marry her to Keith.
Her pride was simply the kind that didn’t want to grovel over a decision already made, or risk being misunderstood as harboring special feelings for a man who was only ever supposed to be her respectful partner.
At the same time, she resigned herself.
Briony always resigned herself quickly.
The only question was, what response would befit a countess? From her rushed debut into society three years ago to this moment, she had never truly handled things with grace. She didn’t even have a single close female friend to ask for advice on how to respond when her husband suddenly changed his attitude.
Not that I’d try, even if I knew how.
Keith was waiting for her answer. At last she met his eyes. At least he wasn’t cruel—he didn’t wound her with harsh words, nor did he raise his voice in blame. She suspected he would even try to return as much of her dowry as possible. As a husband, he had not been a bad man.
Looking at his shadowed face, she couldn’t help but remember that day three years ago.
“I plan to marry you to the highest-ranking unmarried noble.”
That’s what her father had said. And she had steeled herself: as long as he wasn’t a widower, or worse, a brute who had beaten his previous wife to death, she could endure.
Most nobles who married into baronet families for money were either ruined men on the verge of collapse or aging men in need of a second wife.
But the man who appeared before her was high in rank, young, and striking.
Far more striking than she had ever expected.
…Her husband, the lord of Ebony, Earl Keith Dalmor.
Briony finally spoke.
“…Very well, then.”
Her voice was dry, steady, dignified. Befitting the title of countess.
She spoke with strength.
“As you wish, I’ll divorce you.”
