Chapter 81 : A Visit to the Duchy of Vandemir
“Young Lord Roberts is right. And honestly, the letters and gifts the young duke sent were completely one-sided… they were only burdensome for me.”
“Th-that’s…”
Oscar’s lips trembled as he looked at her, visibly shaken.
He had always assumed that Iris would be grateful for his letters and gifts.
He thought the refusals in her replies were just typical feminine coyness and flirtation.
But now, faced with the truth, his head rang with shock, and he couldn’t gather his thoughts.
“I trust you understand what I’m saying. I’ll take my leave now.”
“N-no, wait—”
“Well then, goodbye.”
With a polite bow of her head, Iris turned away, gently grasping Eric’s arm.
Oscar could only stand there, alone and stunned, watching her leave with another man.
But Iris didn’t look back even once. Cold and resolute, she exited the park and stepped into the carriage with Eric.
Now that she had finally escaped from Oscar, a wave of relief washed over her. Yet, with an apologetic expression, she turned to Eric and spoke.
“I’m sorry, Young Lord Roberts.”
“For what?”
“You had to clash with Young Duke Vandemir because of me…”
As the son of an earl, standing up to Oscar wouldn’t have been easy.
And yet, when she was in trouble, he stepped in without hesitation. She was grateful—but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for causing him trouble.
Eric responded with a gentle smile.
“Well, wouldn’t a ‘thank you’ be more appropriate here? You didn’t do anything wrong, my lady.”
“Then… thank you, Young Lord Roberts.”
“No need. I was taught from a young age that it’s only natural to help a lady in distress.”
“You truly are a good person.”
Iris spoke from the heart. Eric was a kind and thoughtful man.
She had come to that conclusion clearly after their three meetings.
He always arranged their encounters around her schedule and maintained a considerate two-step distance so as not to make her uncomfortable.
He really was a good man.
And because he was, she felt all the more strongly that she couldn’t let this go on any longer.
With determination in her eyes, Iris looked him straight in the face.
“Young Lord Roberts, as you know, this is our third meeting.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be honest. I don’t wish to see you anymore—”
“Ah, wait a moment.”
Eric quickly raised his hand, cutting her off. With a pensive look, he slowly ran a hand down the back of his neck before speaking.
“Lady Hugo, I know this might be a rude question… but if I may be frank, you have no intention of getting married, do you?”
“What? How did you…?”
Startled, Iris widened her eyes. No one had ever guessed that part of her heart.
Eric gave her a slightly embarrassed smile.
“People recognize those who are like themselves.”
“…”
“What I mean is… I don’t have any intention of marrying either.”
From the first time he saw her, despite her polite demeanor, he noticed the cold indifference in her eyes.
Ah, this person… just like me, she has no intention of marrying, yet she’s been forced into this situation.
Once he realized that, an idea began to form in Eric’s mind.
Even if they ended things cleanly now, his family would continue trying to introduce him to other noble ladies.
But if he could reach a mutual agreement with someone like Iris, someone who shared his mindset, and simply maintain the appearance of dating—he could avoid marriage while also easing the pressure from his family.
“I imagine you feel the same, but I’ve been seeing people under pressure from my mother and through Madame Kelly’s arrangements. But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all a waste of time.”
“…”
“If you and I share similar intentions,”
“how about continuing to meet for a while, as if we’re getting to know each other? That way, we won’t have to listen to our parents’ nagging—it would be quite convenient.”
To Iris, who had recently been under increasing pressure to marry, the suggestion was undeniably tempting.
The Marchioness wasn’t particularly harsh with her words, but it was true that she placed many expectations on Iris, and those expectations felt heavy to carry.
Still, Iris hesitated, unable to give an immediate answer. She asked carefully, almost timidly.
“Why are you not interested in marriage, Young Lord?”
“Because I love studying,” Eric replied. “I have so much I want to achieve as a scholar—so many things I want to pursue. Sure, I could probably do those things even if I got married… but then the person who marries me would end up utterly miserable.”
“……”
“A husband who neglects his family and devotes himself entirely to his studies—wouldn’t that be the worst?”
He said it half in jest, but Iris let out a soft laugh without meaning to. It would be the worst, after all.
‘He… thinks just like the old me.’
Someone who refuses to marry because they have dreams of their own.
He was different from her in that way. Unlike her, whose reasons for avoiding marriage remained vague and unspoken, Eric had clarity and conviction in his purpose.
Realizing that made Iris feel a little lonely.
She felt like a confused teenager, wandering aimlessly without a real reason—an immature thought that embarrassed even herself.
“If you ever meet someone you like,” Eric continued, “or find that you do want to get married after all—I’ll step away without a word. I promise I won’t cling to you or beg you to stay.”
With his right hand pressed over his heart and his left raised as if making a solemn vow, Eric looked at her with earnest eyes. Then, he extended one hand toward her.
“Lady Hugo, would you form an alliance with me?”
His hand, though slender-boned and pale, bore faint calluses—likely from holding a pen for long hours.
As Iris looked down at his outstretched hand, she thought:
‘He’s right. If I keep seeing him, I won’t feel as much pressure.’
Even if she were to end things with Eric someday, her mother would likely seek out another young lord through Madame Kelly’s arrangements.
But unless she could first settle her own heart, the result would be the same with anyone.
She didn’t want to keep rejecting people again and again.
After a long moment of contemplation, Iris finally reached out and took his hand.
“I’ll be in your care, Young Lord Roberts.”
“And I in yours, Lady Hugo.”
Eric smiled more brightly than he ever had before.
And so, an alliance began—between the eldest son and eldest daughter of two noble houses, both with no desire for marriage.
***
“That’s good news.”
Damian’s reaction, after checking the Duchess’s birthday banquet invitation upon returning home, was surprisingly calm. In fact, it was even… positive.
Aracila, who had expected at least a frown—something akin to her own displeasure—was taken aback.
She had assumed he’d hate it, just like she did.
“Good news? I have a headache just thinking about going down to the duchy and getting hounded.”
It was obvious why the duchess had summoned them for ten whole days under the pretense of her birthday.
She didn’t even care for them all that much—this was clearly just a scheme to keep them close and make their lives difficult.
Aracila wasn’t exactly afraid of that, but she certainly found it exhausting. She let out a long sigh.
“If only you could go alone, but you know the duchy will raise a fuss. We either go together, or neither of us goes at all.”
Even if the duchess was only a stepmother, it was nearly impossible in noble society to skip a matriarch’s birthday party without consequence.
It wouldn’t just draw criticism—it could also undo all the careful efforts they had made to sway public opinion in their favor.
They couldn’t risk toppling the tower they had painstakingly built.
Aracila asked cautiously:
“So what will you do, Damian?”
“I’ll go down to the duchy,” he replied. “I need to find Grandfather’s will.”
Ever since learning about the political marriage arrangement, Damian had been trying to locate the late Duke’s will.
But despite searching all the buildings the former duke owned in the capital, nothing had turned up yet.
He had long intended to search the family estate eventually—but his strained relationship with the duchy made finding a plausible excuse difficult.
Now, however, with an invitation in hand, the opportunity had finally come.
“Only with Grandfather’s will can I formally claim the dukedom as my rightful inheritance,” Damian said, stepping toward Aracila with a serious expression.
“So… will you help me find the will, my lady?”
“…Seriously? How am I supposed to say no when you ask me like that?”
The truth was, the sooner Damian officially inherited the dukedom, the sooner Aracila could get divorced and regain her freedom.
From the beginning, their marriage contract had included her support in helping him secure his succession. Refusing wasn’t even an option.
Ultimately, Aracila realized there was no avoiding the trip to the Duchy of Vandemir. With quiet resolve, she spoke:
“Let’s go—to the Duchy of Vandemir.”
It was two weeks later that the two set out for the Duchy of Vandemir.
Though the stay wouldn’t be particularly short, it wasn’t long enough to warrant bringing a large entourage. So only a few close staff members—such as Colin, the aide, and Audrey—would accompany them.
As Aracila prepared to board the carriage, someone approached her. She turned her head and saw Colin standing there, hand placed over his chest, posture impeccably formal.
“It’s an honor to accompany you on your first visit to the duchy, my lady. I look forward to serving you.”
“Likewise, Colin.”
Aracila gave a small nod, accepting his greeting. She wasn’t particularly close to him, but they had exchanged words a few times.
Mostly, those exchanges had been limited to her usual inquiries—“Where is Damian?”—and Colin answering with mechanical efficiency.
Still, he wasn’t a complete stranger, so she felt no special need to keep her guard up around him.
“Allow me to escort you.”
Colin cast a glance at the carriage and extended his hand with courteous elegance.
Just as Aracila reached out to take it—
“I’ll do it.”
Damian appeared behind her and took her hand without warning.
Colin quickly placed his hands behind his back, gave Damian a respectful nod, and stepped aside without protest.
“Please, my lady.”
“Ah… yes.”
Receiving Damian’s escort, Aracila boarded the carriage. As husband and wife, they were scheduled to share a carriage during the journey.
Damian climbed in behind her and closed the door. A moment later, the carriage began to move.
To endure the long and tedious trip to the duchy, each of them carried a book—Aracila held a tome on magic, while Damian brought a manual on swordsmanship.
After reading for some time in the swaying carriage, Aracila began to feel a hint of nausea. She set her book aside and opened the window to let in fresh air.
Damian glanced at her.
“Are you feeling dizzy?”
“A little.”
“Did you take any medicine for motion sickness?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t particularly prone to travel sickness—at least not to the extent of needing medication.
She rested her chin on her hand, gazing wearily out the window. Then, as if a thought had struck her, she asked:
“What kind of place is the Duchy of Vandemir?”
“A perfectly ordinary place with everything it needs.”
“Be a little more specific. I mean, how it feels to you, that sort of thing.”
Aracila had never been to another noble estate besides her own, the Hugo March.
She didn’t particularly enjoy traveling, so she only left the capital on rare occasions, usually when accepting external commissions.
Since this would be her first time visiting another family’s domain, she was naturally curious about the mood and atmosphere of the Duchy of Vandemir.
Still reading his book, Damian replied in a detached tone.
“Let’s just say… I don’t have fond memories of it. So I’m not exactly looking forward to going back.”
He recalled the time he had visited the duchy briefly at his father’s summons.
While the territory itself evolved with each visit, the ducal manor remained stubbornly unchanged—its exterior frozen in time.
Perhaps that was why he always felt uneasy on the way there.
It brought too many painful memories to the surface.
“You’d best not expect too much. The capital is still better in many ways, and the people there… won’t be kind to us.”
His rather blunt criticism of his own homeland left Aracila momentarily speechless.
She began to regret asking, sensing why he might feel that way.
For a while, the carriage rolled on in silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of hooves against the road.
***
Upon hearing that the Vandemir couple had departed, the Duchess curled her lips into a smirk.
There was, of course, a reason behind summoning the two under the pretense of celebrating her birthday.
Sending spies hadn’t worked.
Having the dowager duchess visit them in the capital hadn’t worked.
Neither the ambush at the hunting festival nor the countless threatening letters had done anything to drive them apart.
Now, only one method remained: to bring them to the duchy and personally drive a wedge between them.
“We must have them divorced as soon as possible,” the duke growled in a hoarse, ragged voice.
Still fuming after being thoroughly humiliated by Damian not long ago, he hadn’t slept properly in days.
His bloodshot eyes, roughened skin from over-smoking cigars, and dull complexion all betrayed his foul mood.
“We should’ve opposed the marriage from the start—no matter the cost. Those two never should’ve met.”
He had assumed no lady of noble standing would be able to tolerate a strange and obstinate man like Damian.
He had underestimated the situation—had allowed himself to relax far too soon.
Who could have predicted that one of the most famously eccentric young ladies in noble society would turn out to be such a perfect match for him?
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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