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3. An Unhappy Marriage
I took my usual seat in the greenhouse, trying to steady the chaos in my mind.
Like my parents said, Stanley would never make me unhappy. Compared to staying unmarried here, or being married off to a man thirty years older than me, he would surely give me a better life. He’d said he would do his utmost—but even so, for someone like me, a marriage this convenient was rare.
And yet… why did this marriage feel so unbearably wrong?
Before I could sink further into my thoughts, the maid Stanley had brought came in with a teapot, cups, and tea snacks. In an instant, the table was perfectly set.
Stanley sat across from me, waiting for me to take the first sip.
“Stanley.”
I couldn’t lift my head. I couldn’t look at his face.
“I… I don’t want to marry you.”
The words scraped out of my throat. He didn’t answer.
My hands clenched tightly in my lap.
“It’s because… I can’t have children. You’d be miserable if you married me…”
What he needed wasn’t necessarily an heir—but children weren’t something he could simply do without.
“You could marry anyone else who’s been proposed to you right now and be happier than marrying me. But that’s only for me. You… you’d want children too, wouldn’t you?”
“Miss, please listen.”
At last, Stanley spoke. His voice was as calm as ever.
“I thought it through in my own way, and I accepted this engagement. At that time, I made the decision that I would not have children.”
I shook my head.
He should have married a woman who could naturally bear and raise children with him. Someone he could love wholeheartedly, building a family surrounded by warmth. That was the life he deserved.
He was someone I had admired like an older brother—someone I respected deeply. I didn’t want him to make a choice like that for me.
“I really like you. That’s why I don’t want you to end up in an unhappy marriage.”
“If you are happy, then I am happy as well.”
I had heard that line so many times. And true to it, he had always devoted himself—to this household, to me. I had never doubted his loyalty.
But to give up his own life… even the private part of it.
“…Just in case I’m misunderstanding—do you actually have feelings for me?”
“I am not so presumptuous as to harbor feelings for a young lady of your standing.”
Stanley said it plainly.
As I expected. I wasn’t exactly experienced in matters of romance, but even I had never felt anything like love from him. Not once.
He straightened his posture, expression tightening.
“The master, madam, and I have discussed this at length. We considered carefully what would bring you happiness, and after all that deliberation, we concluded that marrying me is the best option. I will devote myself fully to fulfilling that expectation.”
His words, without a trace of hesitation, felt like something had struck me hard.
So it wasn’t just talk.
This marriage… was actually going to happen.
I finally understood that reality was about to land on me.
“…So you’re going to be my husband?”
“Yes.”
“And I’ll be your wife?”
Stanley gave a small, soft smile.
“That is correct.”
I tried to imagine our married life.
But it was hazy. Unclear. Like mist.
Instead, I thought of my parents—how naturally they lived together.
“Do I live in your house?”
“Yes.”
“Eat at the same table?”
“Yes.”
“Sleep in the same bed?”
Silence.
I looked up. Stanley’s expression hadn’t changed as he smiled.
“Most likely, yes.”
None of it felt real.
I leaned back in my chair and let out a long breath.
“I can’t. I can’t even imagine it. You calling me Florence, dropping the honorifics…”
“That… remains to be seen.”
“I don’t want my husband calling me ‘miss.’”
“I will make reasonable efforts.”
I finally lifted my cup and took a sip of tea. Stanley did the same.
At the same time, we set our cups down. At the same time, we exhaled.
“…Well, nothing I say will change anything.”
Even if I cried, even if I threw a tantrum, nothing would change.
Just moments ago, I had said life would go as it goes.
“Does it… really go as it goes?”
“It does.”
“Even your life?”
“Yes.”
“Were you always this optimistic?”
“This is not optimism. It is the result of careful consideration. These cookies appear freshly baked.”
Freshly baked cookies were my favorite—but that wasn’t the point right now.
And yet, my hand reached out on its own and took one.
As he poured me more tea, Stanley continued.
“I will likely take a slightly extended leave within the week. I need to return home and prepare.”
“I see. That sounds busy.”
I ate another cookie.
If I was going to marry, I wanted this recipe too. Could I ask the cook?
Stanley, now seated again, leaned slightly toward me.
“What exactly are you thinking about, looking so detached? You will also be undergoing bride training.”
I set my cup down and looked at him, drained.
“I’ve had enough bride training.”
“What you’ve had so far was preparation to become a bride. From now on, it is preparation for being one.”
I covered my ears.
I pretended not to hear.
A deep sigh escaped him.
“Please do your best. I will do my best as well.”
“You don’t need to try so hard. You always overdo it. Those dark circles are still awful. You’re wasting your looks.”
“No.”
He shook his head firmly.
“I am to inherit the Aylis Trading Company and take as my wife the youngest daughter of the most beautiful lord of Chamberlain Territory. No effort would ever be enough.”
What an irritating title.
I frowned and stuck my tongue out.
So that “beautiful youngest daughter” everyone gossiped about—was apparently me.
“…Miss.”
“You’re embarrassed because I praised you?”
“Please express embarrassment with more dignity. You should be more aware of yourself.”
“Excuse me.”
A voice cut in at just the right moment.
Relief washed over me as I turned around. A maid stood there, looking apologetic.
“Lady Florence, Mr. Aylis, I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re resting. Sir Aylis, the butler is calling for you.”
“I understand. I’ll go at once.”
Stanley stood and looked down at me.
“Miss.”
“It’s fine. Go on.”
“…Miss.”
He stared at me quietly, as if trying to say something more.
I waved him off cheerfully, as if the timing were a blessing.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
I knew what he was thinking. I shrugged dramatically.
“I know. I’ll try not to embarrass my very diligent future husband.”
His eyes relaxed a little—but only a little.
“I’ll return shortly.”
He bowed and left with the maid.
When the greenhouse finally quieted, I reached for my cup again—only to notice the sewing basket I’d left on the bench.
Right. The reason Stanley had agreed to take my shirt last time… was because he already knew we were going to be engaged.
I picked up the basket and brought it back to the table.
I couldn’t very well hand secondhand fabric to my future husband.
When he came back, before he started lecturing me again, I should take his clothes and measure him properly.
Still carrying a lingering unease, I pressed my lips together, cut the thread I’d been sewing into the fabric, and pulled it free with a decisive tug.
