RALMH 66

Chapter 66

The Marquis of Prowell let out a deep sigh and said,

“Betty. Forgive me. I should have asked Aaron for his forgiveness, but I lost that chance forever. At least I still have the chance to ask you.”

“There’s nothing for me to forgive.”

Up until reaching this point, there had been many misunderstandings and unavoidable circumstances tangled together.

But Betty did not think any of it was something that required forgiveness.

“No. I was complacent and cowardly. I could have defied my father’s anger and gone to Aaron in secret, but in the end, I didn’t.”

He turned his gaze far away, as if recalling the distant past.

“When I left my father’s room that day, and Aaron looked back at me once before leaving… I had no idea that would be the last time. I was complacent.”

Truly, he had not known Aaron’s resolve was so firm.

He had thought his younger brother would bend under their father’s will, at least temporarily—perhaps by postponing marriage.

His brother had always been gentle by nature, and he could not have imagined Aaron would be so unyielding.

“I was a pathetic older brother who couldn’t pay attention to him. He told me more than once that he had someone he loved. Each time, he was really asking for my help.”

Back then, Edmund Prowell was nothing more than the typical heir of a noble family.

He couldn’t understand why his younger brother would insist on marrying a commoner, even if it meant going against their father’s will.

Of course, he didn’t dismiss the sincerity of Aaron’s feelings, but he never imagined Aaron would give up a ‘nobleman’s life’ for it.

“I didn’t realize. So Aaron must have been deeply disappointed in me.”

It was only much later that he realized he had been the kind of older brother who brought nothing but disappointment.

Like when his own son, born weak, insisted on holding a sword, and he sternly forbade it.

When he scolded Eric harshly, telling him to focus only on his role as heir to the family.

The moment he saw the light disappear from Eric’s eyes—that was when he finally realized the way he had lived was fundamentally wrong.

That was why he sought to change, to be different. When he recognized Ian’s talent, he brought him in.

It was a belated attempt, but at least Ian became Eric’s sword master. Thanks to that, Eric’s final days looked somewhat happy.

He finally held the sword he had so longed for. Even if only briefly, that joy made his short life shine.

“To both my son and my brother, I was a deeply disappointing man.”

Outwardly, his reputation as Marquis of Prowell befitted a house of long lineage. But what of it?

In truth, little remained to him. If not for his daughter, he might not have endured his life at all.

“That’s not who you are now.”

Betty was not in any position to offer forgiveness on Aaron’s behalf. She couldn’t say with certainty that her father had forgiven.

“But I’ve never once been disappointed in you, and I don’t think I ever will. The Marquis I know is, without doubt, a good man.”

The living must continue to live. Even if she couldn’t grant forgiveness, she wanted to tell him:

This is what I believe—so please don’t fall too deep into despair.

“You’re too good for the Prowell family, Betty.”

Faced with Betty’s upright sincerity, it was hard to wallow in self-loathing for long.

“…You said you don’t know much about your father, didn’t you? About Aaron—I knew him best. When we were young, we used to play so many pranks together.”

Perhaps deliberately, he carried on with lively words. Soon he was recounting stories of the past.

Betty listened quietly, nodding along, then suddenly turned her gaze toward the Grand Duke’s residence.

Far above, in the window she remembered as the Grand Duke’s office, a silhouette appeared.

Though the distance was too great to see clearly, she knew it was Ian Deyban watching them.

She thought their eyes might even have met for a brief moment. But he soon turned away and left the window.

Betty swallowed an inexplicable pang of disappointment.

Betty was preparing to depart immediately for the Marquis of Prowell’s estate when, after some hesitation, she stepped out of her room again.

But she had barely walked a few steps into the corridor when she came face-to-face with the very person she had been looking for.

“Sir Ian, I was just—”

“Betty, I—”

Both began to speak at once, then stopped. As always, it was Ian who yielded first.

“You go ahead.”

“If you were about to say something important…”

“No. Not at all.”

Since he insisted she speak first, Betty found it difficult to refuse.

She had already asked so many favors of him before. And now, once again, she was in the position of asking.

“I’m leaving for the Marquis’ estate, but… there’s something I can’t tell the Marquis or the Marchioness.”

Betty hesitated, but Ian welcomed even this much.

After all, it meant she still trusted him above all others.

“I regret not being able to say a proper farewell to the Lady.”

She knew it wasn’t wise to try to visit Vivian in secret or to send messages. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little hurt.

Vivian cared for her, and she cared for Vivian in turn.

To part ways so suddenly, with no promise of meeting again—it left her with a lingering ache.

Her worry for Vivian only grew with each passing day.

“Isn’t there any way I could contact her?”

It was awkward to speak of Vivian Shartré at Prowell. They knew, through Betty, that Vivian wasn’t a bad person.

But that was all.

The only one who fully understood the situation—the only one who knew that Vivian and Betty relied on each other as their sole confidants within the ducal household—was Ian Deyban.

“…I’ll look into it. I’ve already placed one of my men among those who visit the ducal house regularly. I’ll find a way and let you know.”

Vivian couldn’t move freely outside, so she needed other means of contact.

All the more so if she wanted to secretly pass information about the ducal family’s affairs.

Fortunately, there were many people who entered the house at Vivian’s summons—merchants for jewelry or dresses, for instance.

It would not be hard to slip one of his men among them.

“Thank you, truly.”

Strictly speaking, the safety of Lady Shartré was not something he needed to concern himself with.

If she wanted to pass information, that was simply to his benefit.

But because of Betty, Ian could not help but care for Vivian’s well-being as well.

He wanted, even now, to keep seeing that sincere smile on Betty’s face for as long as possible. To be, at least to her, the best man in the world.

Even if it was a deceptive posture.

Ian gave a bitter smile to himself.

Even if Betty knew his thoughts, she would believe he acted that way because he was, at heart, a good man.

That was why he could not help but be drawn to her.

“…Before you go, I wanted to return this.”

Ian finally offered something he had been holding in his hand, unsure until now whether he should.

Betty looked up at him as she recognized the familiar emerald necklace.

“Am I really allowed to keep this?”

“I told you before—it’s yours.”

He had originally given it to the true owner of the letter. She was the rightful one to have it, not him.

“I replaced the broken chain with something stronger.”

He added that detail unnecessarily, because Betty simply stared at the necklace without taking it.

The fearless Ian Deyban was always the most nervous in front of Betty.

“…Then, please. I’ve felt bare without wearing anything lately.”

Since she had decided not to turn away from him, it was only right she take one step forward too.

Betty gathered her hair and turned her back to him.

Ian stared blankly at the pale nape of her neck, now free of the bruises that had once marked it.

Only after a long pause did he finally lift the necklace, realizing—slowly—what Betty’s action meant.