16
“I don’t think anyone has a lifelong secret.”
Vivienne walked a few more steps, then spoke her thoughts calmly. She didn’t want to do anything like collude with the Duchess to deceive Edmund.
After all, Edmund had been the one to save her. And yet, she felt guilty for seeing him now only as someone resembling the agent from her memories. She had been thirsty for blind affection, and had used him for her own physical desire.
Even now, the thought that perhaps she was being deceived by him made Vivienne shudder with disgust.
She felt she finally understood why Edmund had left her side and avoided the room.
…Or was it because her flushed face looked strange?
That thought only sank her mood further and weighed heavily on her heart. It felt as if a scarlet letter had been stamped over her chest, where traces of him still lingered.
If Edmund had truly sorted out his feelings, what should she do now? Vivienne thought it was time to extinguish the remaining embers of that fire.
Her body had been heated as the moon approached, and during their time together, her heart had wavered more than once. As if he had noticed, he had approached her, and she had ultimately accepted the sequence of their intimate encounters.
Yet, she was in the position of relying on the Duke’s household for protection. It was a fleeting indulgence that could not last, and an obscenity. Hoping to have her wounds soothed through him was nothing more than a futile illusion.
Having resolved her thoughts, Vivienne tried to maintain a composed demeanor and spoke.
“It’s a relief that you, Lady, are saying it yourself. I wouldn’t have had the words to express it. I am still far from being a proper lady and clumsy with my choice of words.”
The Duchess frowned at Vivienne’s words. Used to speaking without hesitation, the Duchess realized she had momentarily forgotten her own composure.
Vivienne continued in her soft, measured tone.
“If you were to speak, Lady, I fear my mother would immediately demand that Rex break off the engagement and try to sell me off to the Count… but it seems to me that the Count has already lost interest in me.”
Even as she said this, Vivienne felt her chest ache.
The Count was not an agent, and he had a rough tongue and a cruel disposition. Yet after giving him her body, perhaps even a tiny part of her heart had followed.
She forced herself to ignore that fact and continued.
“It seems it was just a fleeting curiosity. He lured me with words that required no responsibility, only to leave whenever his interest faded.”
“……”
“But doesn’t Edmund Colt, the Count, seem like the sort who wouldn’t want the shackles of marriage? I don’t think he’d welcome a situation where he had to be responsible for a woman whose appeal had faded just because of a word from the Duchess.”
“……”
“That would make it even harder for you to get what you want. Are you all right with that?”
The Duchess forced a trembling smile and spoke.
“I suppose I’ve said something unnecessary.”
Her tone was far more refined than before.
“In a way, we’ve ended up sharing a secret each.”
“Yes, Lady.”
“If that is how you feel, I must accept your advice. I also, foolishly, assumed the two of you were deeply involved, which was a pointless misconception.”
Feigning indifference, she approached Vivienne and linked arms, but Vivienne wasn’t entirely pleased.
Hearing that she had been the subject of a misconception, Vivienne realized how reckless she had been. She had believed she could rely on him instead of the agent, trusting the Count’s words at face value.
For a fleeting moment, she had thought that sweet instant could last forever. She had forgotten that there is no kindness in the world without a price when she gave herself over to desire. She should have been cautious.
Vivienne realized she had to return to her life as Lady Merghville.
“Would you promise not to tell anyone what I said today?”
The Duchess spoke, but it was a soft, almost coquettish request for a woman her nephew had toyed with and abandoned. Only then did Vivienne realize the Duchess was in a difficult position.
“Yes. Thank you for allowing me to stay in the Duke’s household, Lady.”
“Leaving already?”
“I thought it would be better this way. Since I know your secret, Lady, wouldn’t it be uncomfortable for you if I stayed longer?”
The Duchess, struck by the truth of that, said nothing.
“I will repay the hospitality I’ve received—your meals, your lodging. Thank you for showing me the gallery.”
“……”
“I would like to greet the Count personally and settle things here before I leave. Could you assist me, Lady?”
“To be honest, when the Count brought you, Lady, I was not entirely pleased. He has a questionable reputation, and your poised, lovely appearance could attract dangerous men.”
The Duchess walked as she spoke, and Vivienne lowered her head, responding politely, “Yes, Lady.”
“But now that I have had the brief privilege of knowing you, I think you wouldn’t make a bad niece-in-law for my nephew either.”
“Thank you… Lady.”
“You could have tried to exploit my weakness to attract the Count’s attention or provoke my husband to scold me. Yet, in this position, you’ve shown a different kind of generosity. I appreciate that. You will need time to sort your feelings, so let us walk together a little longer. I will show you this gallery properly.”
“Yes, Lady.”
Vivienne toured the gallery with the Duchess. As the head maid had said, the place was truly beautiful. It felt like a museum preserving the entire history of the Senwick family on canvas, painted by the finest artists of each era.
Captivated by the beauty, Vivienne thought that the true Duchess of Senwick must be the one who manages this legacy. Seeing the current Duchess beside her, she understood why the Lady had been so careful in choosing the inheritor of this estate.
For a moment, Vivienne forgot about the Great Depression, the fall of Emmerheim, the national debt, and melted into the “era of the nobility” that her grandfather had described.
A time when her name was worth more than the honorary medals a fiancé could take from her. That fleeting illusion brought a blush to her eyes.
It was a vague longing for a world she once believed she belonged to.
And the thought that perhaps her ancestor, the Marquis of Merghville, might have had a place alongside the proud Duke of Senwick, offered her a small, clumsy comfort.
