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Chapter 29
“What a coincidence life can be! So the Duchess is the daughter of the Count’s father’s cousin’s son? If that’s seven degrees apart, that’s practically family!”
The real estate broker raised his voice cheerfully, trying to lighten the sunken mood. But the already ruined atmosphere showed no signs of recovering.
Caria and Count Lowell sat opposite each other on the sofas, locking eyes without blinking.
The most uncomfortable ones were the servants. The maid with braided hair, who had brought the tea for hospitality, poured nervously, her hands trembling as if frost might burst from the table at any moment.
“Here are the terms of sale. Read them.”
“Fine.”
After that, neither the Count nor Caria used polite speech. In terms of lineage, Count Lowell was above Caria, but in terms of status, he was below her. It was a situation where they should have mutually spoken respectfully, but neither was willing to be the first to yield.
The tension only made the air icier, yet neither seemed to care.
With a twitch of his brow and an openly displeased look, Count Lowell pushed a densely written contract across the table to her.
[Townhouse Sale Conditions]
In this contract, Party A is the seller, and Party B is the buyer.
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Party B shall inherit the employment of the estate’s servants.
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Party B may use the mansion freely but shall not touch the two locked rooms on the second floor.
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Party B shall never go up to the third-floor terrace.
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Party B shall cultivate and maintain the roses in the garden come June.
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Party B shall occasionally feed the cat that visits the backyard.
…
Upon pledging to abide by the above conditions, Party A shall transfer the mansion to Party B for 100,000 gold.
If Party B is later discovered to have violated even one condition, Party B must pay a penalty of 1,000,000 gold to Party A.
Additionally, Party A may visit the mansion unannounced to check whether the conditions are being fulfilled.
Caria carefully read the lengthy contract on the spot. The real estate broker, face tense, glanced nervously at her expression.
Many people had shown interest in the beautiful mansion, but upon seeing the conditions, they all either stormed off in anger or left in disbelief.
The most troublesome clause was the one allowing unannounced inspections. Who in their right mind would accept that? To sell a house and still meddle afterward—no one could tolerate it. That was why, even at the bargain price of 100,000 gold, the mansion had gone unsold for three years.
“I’ll sign it.”
But to their surprise, Caria accepted the terms without complaint. After signing, she pulled out her checkbook, filled in 100,000 gold, and handed it to the broker.
“A check issued by the Rubens Trading Company, I see. Your Grace, when might this be cashed?”
“100,000 can be cashed immediately. This one, however, in about three days.”
Without stopping, Caria filled out another check for 1,000,000 gold. At this, Count Lowell’s face twisted in fury.
“1,100,000 gold may be above market value, but since it’s a one-of-a-kind property, it can’t be helped. I’ll move in as soon as possible, so the Count should vacate the house. Ah, and don’t worry—I’ll take over the staff.”
“What an eccentric fellow.”
Count Lowell tore up the check she had handed him and threw her out of the mansion. Caria could not comprehend his reaction.
Wasn’t he the one who had demanded the million-gold condition in the first place? She hadn’t forced anything unreasonable, so why such outrage?
Instead of the raging Count, it was the old butler who escorted her out, bowing politely and apologizing.
‘It seems the master is not yet ready.’
In the end, Caria had no choice but to stay at a hotel. It was better than sleeping in her empty ducal residence, but it was inconvenient—no personal servants, meals that required going down to the lobby, and above all, poor security.
Even now, only hours after checking in, an unwanted visitor had come.
“Your Grace, you are here.”
Just as she was about to take her first bite of the meal she had ordered at the hotel restaurant, that unwelcome voice made her scowl deeply. She knew perfectly well who it belonged to, without even turning her head.
Caria neither looked toward the voice nor responded. But Hesys Rivenne, with the shamelessness honed by years of social life, sat himself at her table despite her obvious disregard.
“It’s rather late, yet it seems you’ve not yet had your meal.”
“Did I say you could sit?”
Caria slammed down her cutlery, glaring at Hesys. The sound drew the attention of nearby diners, their eyes turning toward them.
“I wish to speak with you in detail about what you said to His Grace, the Duke.”
“What conversation? Ah—do you mean when I proposed divorce?”
Hesys flinched, startled by her blunt use of the word divorce, and glanced around nervously.
It was so typical of Pandéon’s people: indifferent to the Duchess’s own feelings, yet overly conscious of strangers’ opinions.
“I would prefer to discuss this in private. Let’s move to another place.”
“Do you not see that I am in the middle of dinner?”
“…I will wait.”
Suit yourself. Caria resumed her meal as though he weren’t there, elegantly sampling dish after dish.
Watching her, Hesys couldn’t help but frown.
“You can’t possibly finish all this. Why order so much food? Meanwhile, come winter, your peasants strip tree bark to make gruel because they have nothing to eat—”
“And you turned a blind eye to the lady dowager’s embezzlement out of such concern for the peasants?”
Caria shot back without flinching. And she wasn’t wrong, which left Hesys unable to refute her.
Indeed, he had overlooked the dowager’s misappropriations. At first, he thought she was simply indulging in luxuries after years of frugality under the late Duke. And since the diverted funds were, on paper, allocated as the Duchess’s “allowance for maintaining dignity,” he thought it made little difference.
Besides, with the Duke already burdened, Hesys hadn’t wanted to give him yet another headache. But Caria had uncovered everything—and she clearly knew Hesys’s reasoning, leaving him unable to feign ignorance.
“You must be very angry.”
“If that’s what it looks like, then so be it.”
“If you wish to curse me until your anger is spent, do so. If you wish for an apology, I’ll kneel if I must. But… I have only one question. Why? Why today?”
“‘Suddenly’?”
When she had dropped the bombshell that morning, declaring divorce, the Ducal House of Pandéon had fallen into chaos. The Duke locked himself in his chambers. The dowager collapsed into bed. The young lord and lady were confused and frightened by the upheaval.
Had she spoken up when she first discovered the wrongdoing, things would never have escalated so far.
From Hesys’s perspective, it was hard to believe this had been done without intention.
“They say you’ve changed since your fall down the stairs. Did something wound your heart that deeply?”
“I thought you were smarter than this. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Do you truly believe I did this ‘suddenly’?”
Caria smiled at him. But it wasn’t the warm, harmless smile she used to greet the Duke at the door. It was a sneer, laced with venom and scorn. A smile so cold it could freeze the fires of hell itself. Hesys shuddered involuntarily.
“My mother-in-law would devour me alive if she could. The children don’t even treat me as human, let alone a mother. Even the servants trample me underfoot. And you call this ‘sudden’?”
“That is—”
“My husband’s old friend, the knight commander, sends me off with a mere boy as an escort, as though hoping I’ll die to some stray blade. And another old friend—you—tighten my noose by aiding the dowager, all under the guise of ‘protecting the household.’ Meanwhile, my husband was either too oblivious or too indifferent to notice. And still you say this was ‘sudden’?”
Hesys wanted to protest that it was a misunderstanding, but the words stuck in his throat. He had known her position in the mansion was unstable. He simply hadn’t realized—no, hadn’t wanted to realize—how much she suffered.
He was too busy supporting the Duke, running himself ragged to rebuild the territory. He had no energy left to worry whether the Duchess was tired, lonely, or miserable.
If she had grievances, she should have spoken up, he thought. If she was uncomfortable, she should have said so. That was his careless assumption.
In his eyes, his duty was to the household. The Duchess’s state of mind was not his responsibility.
