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Chapter : 15
“In Crawford, at least someone—just one person—has to act responsibly. Mother, you made that ridiculous promise to accept anyone without proper investigation, but surely I cannot do the same, can I?”
“Raymond.”
Ray silently looked at his mother.
The mother who had passed everything down to him—not only his appearance, but even his personality.
Agatha and Ray were not the type of mother and son who spoke often, but not because their relationship was bad.
It was because they agreed on almost everything, so there was no need for conversation.
This marriage was the first issue they had ever disagreed on.
“You don’t regret it even now. For forcing this marriage onto me.”
It was truly an incomprehensible decision.
But Crawford was not only Ray’s.
It was built by generations of ancestors, and by his father and mother as well.
Because he respected his mother’s lifelong effort in protecting that name, Ray had compromised once.
Agatha also had her share in Crawford—it was hers too.
Moreover, she had practically led the family when his father, a weak man, was the head of the house.
And Agatha looked like someone who would not care even if she died from fasting.
After sending his father into a mental breakdown, it was unthinkable to let his mother starve as well.
“…Yes. I do not regret it. Did you think I did not consider the worst? Even if that girl had been playing an accordion in a ridiculous circus, it would still be better than seeing something like that printed in Avery’s newspaper!”
“That kind of thing.”
“Are you planning to criticize your father’s illness as well? Anyone who has experienced war can suffer aftereffects like him. Injuries are not only physical—they can be mental too.”
At Ray’s quiet reply, Agatha’s face twisted completely, as if she had been deeply insulted.
“I am not criticizing your father! I am trying to protect him!”
Ray could not agree with how hiding something in embarrassment counted as “protection,” but he said nothing.
They had already had this argument before the marriage, and it had ended without agreement.
In the end, Ray had simply yielded to Agatha’s stubbornness.
“Then bear the consequences.”
Agatha looked at her son, who spoke so coldly, with a heavy heart.
He resembled her past self too much—the rational, cold version of her that had once strongly urged her husband to go to war.
“If your father’s mental condition is exposed, it would only happen once. But now that you have brought this woman into Crawford, how many more times do you think this will happen?”
“Ray.”
“Since you chose a difficult path, endure it. I am not complaining either, am I?”
“Answer me. Avery will exaggerate even the smallest flaw. Do you really think it would end with just one mention of your father?”
Agatha’s voice began to tremble.
“One scandal and it’s over? Avery would bring it up whenever he was bored. He would exaggerate every strange thing your father did while he was ill.”
Ray frowned slightly without realizing it.
Agatha was unusually emotional.
She had struggled somewhat after her husband’s death, but that was within the normal range for a widow. She had never been this emotional before.
“Do you really want your father dragged into that mud? Do you want useless people pitying him? That poor man…”
“Father is not a pitiful man.”
Ray cut her off firmly again, but Agatha did not give up.
“I would rather bring in an outsider and let that girl take the blame. As long as there is a target, Avery will not touch your father.”
“That mud will still splash onto Crawford.”
“Just a drop or two, isn’t it? Even if a few drops hit us, it is still better. We are Crawford—we can recover. We have the ability. But your father cannot defend himself because he is dead.”
Her argument was not entirely wrong…
But she was clearly overreacting about his father’s reputation, while underestimating the scandal Rose would bring.
“And all of this will eventually die down. Once the marriage stabilizes and Orthurans get used to Rose, this topic will become old news.”
Ray agreed with that part.
People always got bored eventually.
“You think you can remain ignorant of everything just because I did not explain why I forced this marriage on you?”
“There was a promise you made when you pushed me to accept Avery’s blackmail.”
Agatha fell silent again.
“You said you would no longer object to anything I decide. That you would leave all Crawford matters to my judgment.”
“…Yes.”
“What I tell you is what you are allowed to know. So please endure the duchess you chose yourself. I am not helping you. You must have had a plan, even if it was not a good one.”
A sharp silence filled the room.
Two identical pairs of eyes looked at each other.
“Fine, Ray. That is exactly it—planning.”
After a long pause, Agatha’s voice was much calmer.
“You are right that I have no right to interfere. Unless it concerns your father, I will no longer oppose your decisions. But I can still think of ways to help you. And for that, I need to know certain things in advance.”
For someone who had burst into her son’s bedroom early in the morning, her tone was surprisingly rational.
“If you change your mind, tell me. I am sorry for disturbing you in bed. It was such a major issue that I lost my composure.”
“Don’t worry. I understand your intentions.”
Ray responded without complaint, as if nothing had happened.
Agatha nodded slightly and left the room with her head held high, as though she had every right to be there.
Once the room was quiet again, Ray looked at the newspaper on the side table.
More precisely, at the photograph.
The woman who was the cause of all this chaos looked completely at ease.
He was not the only one who had lost control last night.
After hearing the word “blackmail” come from her mouth, he too had felt anger toward this irritating situation.
He had kept his words back, knowing the truth would only become a useless weakness, but he could not hide his anger.
He should not be showing emotions over something so meaningless.
Ray stared for a long time at the photo of his unpredictable wife.
A woman holding a cigarette, completely absorbed in reading with a serious expression.
What was she even reading?
It was hard to believe she was his wife.
The woman in the photo looked too alive. Just like last night.
Returning to her bedroom, Rose sat on the bed in a daze.
That morning, Mrs. Selma the housekeeper had brought her the newspaper. Rose had gone through the connecting passage to the Duke’s room to explain that she had never said those things, but there were guests inside.
And she ended up hearing their conversation.
“…Or did your father threaten you?”
Last night’s angry words had, absurdly, been half true.
That man had married her because of blackmail.
Thankfully, not her father’s blackmail—but Archibald Avery’s.
Did her father even know?
No… judging from his complaints about not hearing from his son-in-law, he clearly did not.
So at least to that man, this marriage was close to a fraud, and Rose really was like a punishment sent from the heavens.
That cold blue gaze that looked at her as if she were the most annoying thing in the world came to mind.
So that was why he hated her.
Now everything made sense.
No one in this house wanted her. Rose was not even a product of a transaction.
Realizing the truth filled her with fear.
Even while she screamed in anger, he had calmly said, “It is simply a fact that you are not enough.”
She could not even feel anger toward that inhuman calmness.
People didn’t even get angry like that.
Rose wasn’t sure whether she should feel ashamed or sorry for shouting at him without knowing the truth.
The only thing she was sure of was how ridiculous she must have looked to him.
Yes… she had thought she was “adjusting” to this strange country, Orthura, quite confidently.
But the voices she had heard in his room were still so clear.
“Her flaws.”
“How many defects she has.”
Rose had never known she had so many problems. She thought she had lived a normal life without doing anything wrong.
