Chapter 86
Marsha’s eyes flew wide at the unexpected answer, blinking rapidly as her face turned crimson.
From Claudio’s perspective, wasn’t what she had just said unbearably selfish?
Why had she thought it was all right to be honest only with him?
Why had she assumed that he would cheer on her meager efforts and patiently endure an endless, uncertain wait?
If it were me, I’d have lost all affection on the spot.
Her head dropped.
Forcing a smile, she swallowed down the tears that threatened to rise.
At that moment, Claudio spoke.
“You want me to wait because you’re afraid you’ll end up blaming me? If that’s all it is, I can’t wait.”
Marsha lifted her head and nodded.
She wanted to admit he was right, to apologize for saying something so foolish, but—
“Keep me by your side. And if you want to blame me, then just blame me.”
Her tear-bright eyes wavered.
His crimson gaze, in contrast, held not the slightest trace of hesitation.
If Marsha had said she couldn’t approach him because she might end up blaming herself, Claudio could have endured that.
But if it was because of him—if she thought she must hold back because of him—then hearing her reproach was a thousand times better than waiting in silence.
“Don’t hold back. Say everything you want to say. What I can’t stand is you swallowing your words out of some misguided consideration for me.”
“I…”
“That’s enough.”
Claudio cut her off.
The carriage jolted, wheels rattling over a stretch of cobblestones.
“I’ve heard your thoughts. Whatever excuse you try to make, I won’t back down.”
Another lurch rocked the carriage—and in that instant, Claudio seized her face in both hands and kissed her.
“Mmph…!”
Marsha froze, eyes wide, lips clamped shut.
But then he gently nipped at her lower lip.
Startled, she gasped—and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, filling the narrow space.
“Haa…”
Her own tongue, small and uncertain, met his, and his movements tangled with hers as though trying to learn everything about her.
Wet, sticky sounds filled the carriage, broken by breathless gasps.
“Mmm…”
Marsha thought she might suffocate.
Never before had her senses felt so sharp.
From her toes to the crown of her head she tingled, and the place where his hand pressed at her nape burned as if set aflame.
If this continued, she feared the heat in her head would melt her into a fool.
And yet—she made no move to pull away.
She didn’t want to.
***
The newspaper crumpled violently in Lucas’s hands.
“Damn it…!”
On the front page was an article headlined: ‘The Viscountess of Railford Appears Holding the Duke of Gloria’s Hand.’ A simple illustration accompanied it, along with a description of how the duke had met her and how tenderly he had treated her at the party.
Viscountess of Railford? You?
Marsha was the daughter of the ancient and venerable Countess of Emelide.
Even if the Duchy of Dominique was weaker than Stravi, a poor, lowly house like the Railford viscounty could never compare to the wealthy Emelide line.
How did it come to this?
Marsha would never have declared herself the daughter of Railford on her own.
No—this was clearly the doing of the Duke of Gloria.
The article claimed they had only met recently, but since her very identity was falsified, how could the dates or circumstances be trusted?
He’s had her with him since four years ago, I’m certain of it.
Unable to keep her hidden any longer, the duke had staged this absurd charade to set her at his side.
If that weren’t the reason, why go to such lengths to present Marsha to the world this way?
Damn it! I can’t let that man take her from me…!
Lucas had found her first.
Unlike the Duke of Gloria, he had loved Marsha for years—longer than anyone.
And at last, he’d come so close to having her.
How could he surrender her to another man now?
What should I do?
Should he reveal that Marsha was truly the daughter of the Emelide countess?
Should he expose the duke’s deception, tell the world that the man was holding her against her will?
…But what if Marsha herself says otherwise?
What if she swore that Lucas was lying?
His hand went to his throat.
Nothing bound him, yet it felt as though an unseen rope was strangling him.
No.
Marsha would never do that.
She loves the Emelide family too much.
Even if she’s disappointed in me, she could never abandon her house.
Of course—this was the duke’s coercion.
He had forced her into the false identity of Railford’s daughter.
But Lucas couldn’t simply declare this to the public.
The Duke of Gloria would never let him live if he tried.
That man could erase him without a trace.
What should I do…?
Could he just watch as Marsha became the duke’s possession?
No. Impossible.
To Lucas, Marsha was life itself, the very meaning of existence.
Without her, what purpose would his past—or his future—hold?
His fingers stroked his jaw as he brooded.
Then, suddenly, his eyes lit with a strange gleam.
…I’ll try it again.
Yes.
He would attempt what he had failed to accomplish four years ago.
That’s the only answer.
It was the only way to claim Marsha completely.
***
Several days later, a letter arrived at the Duke of Gloria’s mansion.
Count Beveridge had written.
Claudio, seated in his study with Urian before him, frowned as he read.
“Has something gone wrong, my lord?” Urian asked carefully, seeing his master’s displeasure.
“No. The Marquis of West has sent an invitation.”
The Marquis of West had avoided crossing into Delua.
After all, he had once aspired to the throne—if he set foot there, both nobles and citizens would feel unease.
And besides, it risked entangling him in needless trouble.
“He proposes we meet at Yubanan Port.”
“Ah. At least that’s near enough. A relief.”
“Yes. Better than traveling deep into the western lands.”
Claudio spoke the words, but his tone carried faint dissatisfaction.
What troubles you, my lord…?
Urian fidgeted, uncertain, until Claudio muttered,
“Taking her with me will be impossible, won’t it?”
“Ah…”
Claudio hadn’t named anyone, but Urian immediately thought of Marsha.
Who else could he mean?
“The western road is far too perilous,” Urian said gently.
That was true.
Compared to the forest road from Tora to Delua, the route westward was brutal.
There were even stretches of desert impassable by carriage.
Claudio knew this.
From the beginning, his plan had been to leave Marsha behind.
Yet now that the time had come, the thought of parting from her for days on end weighed heavily on him.
Even when they were under the same roof, he missed her if she wasn’t in his sight.
How much worse, then, to be separated by such distance?
But there’s no helping it.
He exhaled and tossed the letter onto the desk.
“Well then—your report?”
“Ah. The information you ordered us to verify has arrived. There is indeed something suspicious.”
Claudio took the file Urian handed over.
Inside were details about a miner named Tom Buck, who had perished alongside the Count of Emelide four years ago.
He paid off his debts just days before the tragedy?
The sum had been large.
The records showed he had struggled for years, often failing to make even the smallest monthly payments.
And yet, suddenly, he had cleared it all.
What, did he discover a gold vein overnight?
Claudio’s lips twisted into a cold smile.
Turning the page, he frowned at the next name.
Lucas…
Marsha’s childhood friend.
The same man who had gone so far as to use her former fiancé to track her down.
And—the man who had profited most from the tragedy four years ago.
The documents revealed his immigration record.
Officially, he had arrived on the last day of the funeral, but in truth, he had entered the Duchy of Dominque much earlier.
It wasn’t impossible, of course, that he’d had business requiring an early arrival.
But if his beloved friend had met with such horror, wouldn’t he have gone to her side immediately?
To claim he hadn’t heard the news was absurd—the disappearance of the Count of Emelide had spread across the duchy long before his body was ever found.
He wanted no one to know he’d entered the duchy.
And why would that be? Claudio didn’t need to think long to grasp the answer.
The reason is too obvious, isn’t it?
