Chapter 149 – A New Plan
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Perel rubbed his aching forehead.
He had used up all his energy calming Cecilia, who had cried her lungs out as if the world were ending.
Now he held a copy of the contract—painstakingly copied word for word by Cecilia herself.
“I told you, I copied it without missing a single dot or stroke!”
Perel let out a tired sigh.
Even while panicking, she had calmly copied the whole contract.
“What do we do? I can’t live without Lady Consort. She’s the only person in this world who truly understands me.”
Perel knew well that in the small high society of the North, the second daughter of the Territo Baron family was considered quite the eccentric.
But he never thought poorly of her.
Like the Lady Consort, Cecilia wasn’t a typical noblewoman—she was intelligent and warm-hearted.
“Why are you so calm, Sir Perel?”
Cecilia’s nose was red from crying, and she glared at him indignantly.
“Don’t tell me… you already knew about this?”
“I didn’t know anything either.”
Honestly, Perel never would have imagined his lord would write such a contract.
“Then why aren’t you panicking?!”
Perel cautiously pointed to the date on the contract.
“If you look at the date, this was written right after Lady Consort first arrived.”
“That’s the scary part! It’s been more than half a year!”
“But things between them have changed a lot since then.”
“And?”
“Even if we don’t know Lady Consort’s thoughts, His Grace likely has no desire for divorce anymore.”
Cecilia’s eyebrows loosened slightly.
“You really think so?”
Perel nodded, remembering what he’d once seen through a hallway window—
The Grand Duke looking completely smitten with his wife.
‘It was early spring, wasn’t it?’
Probably three weeks after they wrote the contract.
He had no idea why his lord ever signed a divorce contract, but Perel was certain—
within a month, the man had fallen completely in love with his wife.
“And I believe Lady Consort feels the same.”
After all, she always said she liked the Grand Duke’s gentle nature.
Cecilia sighed sadly.
“But… Lady Consort once told me she wanted to quit being a duchess and run an inn in Rondoris.”
Normally, no duchess talks about “quitting.”
Cecilia had been so shocked that she dragged Perel to the rose garden that very day.
“Please don’t worry too much.”
Perel tried to come up with any comforting logic he could.
“Think about all the things in Blenheim that need Lady Consort’s touch.”
Just yesterday she interviewed candidates to lead the Snow Wine merchant group.
The North was just beginning to change—there was no way Lady Consort would irresponsibly divorce now.
“They may have already agreed to cancel the contract.”
“…If they had, they would have destroyed it.”
Cecilia’s sharp point made Perel fall silent.
A moment of quiet passed.
Then—
“You know what? I’m starting to get angry. Isn’t His Grace being shameless?”
“What do you mean?”
“To be planning to divorce while casually climbing into Lady Consort’s bed!”
“…What?”
This time Perel’s voice rose.
“Wait… have they consummated the marriage?”
“It would be better if they had! Instead, he made Lady Consort all spotted and—!”
The famously bold Cecilia seemed embarrassed to even say it out loud and trailed off.
But from the scattered words, Perel understood the situation.
A slow grin curved at the corner of his mouth.
“You think this is funny?”
“I just don’t think it’s something worth panicking over.”
If the Grand Duke truly intended to divorce Lady Consort, he wouldn’t have touched her at all.
Perel recalled the man agonizing over what gift to give his wife.
If Perel’s guess was right, his lord was desperately trying to find a way to void the contract.
He also remembered Lady Consort worrying earlier—
—“His Grace seems to have a fever. Could you call Hosen to check him later?”
As if that giant, energetic man ever looked sick.
It was obvious—they were a pair of newlyweds completely in love.
All Perel needed to do was gently push them at the right moment, and the contract would disappear without a trace.
Cecilia listened, tilted her head for a moment… then nodded as if convinced.
“That does make sense.”
And the timing was perfect.
“Lady Consort’s consecration day is coming up.”
“Her consecration day?”
Any ordinary maid would have memorized her lady’s consecration day long ago—
But Cecilia never failed to defy expectations.
“That day would be perfect for them to confirm their feelings… with a surprise gift or perhaps a date—”
Perel was about to suggest something normal.
But Cecilia suddenly shouted:
“We have to make them consummate the marriage!”
“…What?”
“We have to create the perfect night for them!”
“…Isn’t the order backwards here?”
If the contract was gone, the couple would naturally become a real married pair.
After that, they could decide things themselves.
But Cecilia was thinking in the complete opposite direction.
“If they spend their wedding night properly, this stupid contract becomes meaningless!”
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to interfere with something so… intimate.”
“But…!”
Cecilia cried out, deeply offended.
“If they keep hesitating like this and a year passes—what will we do?! Will you take responsibility, Sir Perel?!”
“…Do you have a plan?”
Perel asked with a defeated expression.
It seemed dinner would not be happening tonight.
***
Later That Evening
Late at night, I still hadn’t left my office.
When my workload increased, Loic had arranged a wider, more comfortable office space near my room.
It was cozy and quiet—
But dangerous, because once I focused, I lost all sense of time.
‘Still, I finished faster than I expected.’
Once I signed the budget plan for rebuilding the servants’ dining hall next spring, my tasks were finally done.
I picked up the last item on my desk—
A letter from the Countess of Selvanis.
—“She seemed very curious about how Annette is doing.”
Loic had warned me, but the letter arrived even faster than I thought.
“‘If you ever need help, contact Arsen’s aunt.’”
That was what Ferdinand had written in his early letter, when I first traveled north.
That aunt was the Countess of Selvanis.
I had never thought to write her—
She had nothing to do with the real me.
But hearing she worried about me made me curious about what kind of person she was.
I carefully opened the letter, which carried a faint pleasant scent.
It was written in a very polite tone.
「Dear Annette,
Perhaps you are surprised to receive such a sudden letter from me.
Truthfully, I debated many times whether it was proper to call Your Ladyship by name in the greeting.
But I hoped you would forgive the selfish wish of an aunt wanting to address her niece warmly for the first time.
…(omitted)…
You’ve likely never visited Arsen. It’s not as large as Rondoris, but it is an extremely fertile and beautiful land.」
She went on to introduce Arsen and the Selvanis territory,
then asked how I was doing in Blenheim, whether I was adjusting well to the colder northern climate.
「I pray this sudden letter did not trouble Your Ladyship.
I will await your reply.
With deep affection,
Elian.」
‘She seems like a good person.’
The letter was long and full of genuine affection.
It felt strange—
Someone missing me simply because we shared blood.
My real blood family had always treated me worse than strangers.
Of course, the person she longed for wasn’t truly me, but the original Annette.
‘What should I write back?’
I was deep in thought when—
Knock, knock.
“Lady Consort, may I enter?”
Whitley’s gentle voice came.
“Yes, come in.”
The old butler stepped inside and asked:
“Would you like more tea?”
“No, I should finish soon.”
Whitley relaxed slightly when he saw the paperwork mostly cleared away.
“I’ll send in a maid to clean up shortly.”
“Thank you.”
He should have left, but instead he hesitated.
In my experience, there was only one reason Whitley hesitated.
“Where’s the Grand Duke? Has he returned to his room?”
“He is still at the training grounds.”
He answered immediately, as if he had been waiting for me to ask.
“At this hour?”
I looked out the window.
The garden was dark except for a few magical stone lamps lighting the paths.
“Is he alone?”
“He is training with the knights.”
Whitley gave me a slightly troubled smile.
That smile meant:
The Grand Duke is working the knights to death. Please go stop him.
I accepted the silent plea.
“I should get some fresh air anyway.”
Whitley’s face brightened.
“I will escort you to the training grounds.”
To rescue the poor knights, I rose from my seat.
