Chapter 73
Thud!
With a harsh sound, the thief collapsed and showed no sign of rising.
Wh-what… What’s happening?
Had he struck his head and injured himself badly?
Marsha swallowed hard.
She had only meant to stop him, to trip him so he couldn’t escape…
But then the coachmen chasing after him checked his state and hauled him up like a sack of grain.
Judging by their faces, he wasn’t dead.
“Whew…”
Marsha exhaled in relief.
At that moment, an elderly lady in an elegant navy coat embroidered with golden threads hurried toward her.
“You.”
The graceful voice called out to Marsha.
“I hardly know how to express my gratitude.”
She grasped Marsha’s hand firmly, her voice trembling with emotion.
“You truly saved me. What is your name? I must repay this kindness.”
Cold sweat prickled Marsha’s temples.
She had only acted on instinct, thinking she ought to stop the thief—nothing more.
“No, I don’t deserve such thanks. It was nothing important.”
“There was a letter inside that bag—one my late husband left me. If I had lost it… my remaining years would have been filled with misery.”
Marsha’s eyes widened.
She immediately thought of the ring her father had left behind.
She could imagine perfectly what the woman meant.
And yet…
As Marsha hesitated, a familiar voice rang out.
“Lady Marsha!”
She turned.
Her maid was pushing frantically through the crowd that had gathered to watch the commotion.
Ah…
She had refused to bring Claudio because she hadn’t wanted to draw attention.
And yet now, she had drawn far more notice than she could bear.
What if this becomes a problem later?
She had only wanted to quietly imitate the perfect image of the daughter of Viscount Railford—just as Claudio had asked.
Instead, she was now the center of unwanted eyes.
Her vision wavered.
The maid, finally reaching her, bent low with a pale face.
“Marchioness Severia.”
“…”
The Marchioness of Severia?
That name… it sounded familiar.
Ah. That’s right.
Claudio had mentioned her—his grandaunt, the mistress of the domain where the Railford family resided.
One of the very few who knew Marsha was not truly the daughter of Viscount Railford.
“…Could it be, you are…?” the marchioness murmured softly.
Marsha forced an awkward smile.
I knew I’d meet her someday… but not like this.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone out at all.
Meanwhile, a stir broke out in the crowd.
“P-please, make way…!”
“What the—?!”
A man in an old, oversized coat far too heavy for the season pushed through the people.
His hat was pulled low, and his sluggish steps only worsened the annoyance of those around him.
“Tch.”
The glares and mutters didn’t matter.
He dragged his battered body forward, because he had heard a name.
If I don’t return soon, Petrix will beat me half to death… but that doesn’t matter.
Not now.
What mattered was confirming if the name he had heard—Marsha—truly belonged to the woman before him.
It might have been a mistake.
Even if he’d heard right, it wasn’t such a rare name.
But still—he couldn’t give up.
Grimacing in pain, he finally broke through to the inner ring of the park, where an elderly woman and a young lady were speaking.
I can’t see her face…
The maid stood half in front of her mistress, blocking the view.
And his swollen eyes, still bruised from beatings, blurred everything further.
Just then, one of the coachmen approached the women.
The maid stepped aside.
Ah…
The man’s lips trembled.
Even with blurred vision, he knew.
That noble young lady, with eyes so kind they had once turned upon him—
Lady Marsha Emelide…!
The one the terrible monster had never been able to find—here she was, before him.
Could such a miracle be real?
Perhaps God Himself was granting him a chance to confess all his sins.
But…
His gaze darted around.
This was far too close to Petrix’s territory. What if one of his men was hidden among the crowd?
If he approached her recklessly, his family’s lives could be endangered.
What… What should I do?
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
Just then, the shrill sound of whistles pierced the air.
“Move along! Disperse—don’t block the road!”
Several guards pushed their way into the crowd.
The one who looked highest in rank bowed obsequiously to Marsha and her companions before offering to escort them to their carriage.
“No—don’t take her away!”
The man cried out, reaching desperately through the throng toward Marsha’s retreating back.
His hand, scarred and bloodied, stretched toward her—
—but of course, it never reached.
***
The maid took Marsha’s own carriage to return, but Marsha herself had no choice but to ride with the Marchioness of Severia.
“What a strange stroke of fate,” the marchioness said gently as the carriage rocked along.
“I had longed to meet you. That was why I came to Delua, even though the duke had not invited me. But to meet you in such a way…”
She smiled with warmth.
“It is enough that you retrieved my bag, yet you even saved the duke’s life. How am I ever to repay such debts?”
“You’ve already given me far more than enough,” Marsha replied softly.
“What could I have given you? Ah—do you mean the title of the Viscount’s daughter?”
The marchioness shook her head.
“No, that was the duke’s gift, not mine.”
Marsha faltered.
Few in the world could transform a commoner—someone like her with such a tangled identity—into a noble.
Only someone like Duke Gloria… or the Marchioness of Severia.
Yet she dismissed it as if it were nothing more than buying a box of expensive sweets.
She doesn’t know who I really am, does she?
Claudio must have asked her to support the pretense before he ever knew Marsha’s true circumstances.
She couldn’t possibly know about their contract either.
So… she accepted me as a noble simply because I saved his life.
Marsha found herself smiling faintly.
She must truly care for him.
But then—
“Tell me, child. Does the duke ever make things hard for you?”
“…What?”
“I mean—does he ever hurt you, perhaps with careless or cruel words?”
Marsha blinked, startled.
The marchioness gazed intently at her.
“I confess, when he first asked me for this favor, I worried. Even if you had saved his life, Claudio is not a man who tolerates anyone at his side. And to elevate a stranger with no noble blood? Never. He would sooner throw endless money at a savior than do that.
Especially not a woman. That was never his way.”
Her tone was grave.
“That is why I kept asking myself… What could make him keep a simple country girl close, and in such a complicated way? Boredom, perhaps? A test to see if such a girl could fool society with a false pedigree?”
She sighed faintly.
“I do not truly believe he is so base, but I could not imagine another reason. And so, I worried for you. He is a man who speaks harshly even to fellow nobles—how much worse must it be for a girl like you?”
Her eyes softened.
“I cannot tell you such blunt thoughts directly, of course. I would never want to wound you. But please, understand this—Claudio Gloria does not know how to watch his tongue. I have even suffered because of him. His aides too. Count Celtos looks older each time I see him. And so I worry, my dear… I worry you may be suffering in silence.”
