Chapter 19
Hildegard
“You grow more and more beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
It was clearly a compliment, yet the gentle smile on Hildegard’s face hardened instantly.
From birth, the duke was of noble blood—his very presence was different from Mariana’s. Even if Hildegard, outwardly, had already mastered the poise and grace befitting a noblewoman, she was no pushover.
“The marquis must be treating you quite well?”
Treating her well? That miserly old man who wouldn’t part with even a bent copper coin unless it profited him? Surely the duke knew this. Was he joking?
Hildegard froze for a moment and lifted her eyes to the duke, trying to discern his intent. But his expression remained calm, leisurely, impossible to read.
Am I just being oversensitive?
Lately, under the emperor’s favor, the Crow Marquisate had been flourishing politically and economically. In stark contrast, the Side Ducal House had fallen into difficulties on many fronts while its master was away at war.
But there was one matter where the marquisate was constantly criticized: the issue of succession.
Unlike the marquis, known for his cold rationality, his two sons had been weak and spineless. The elder at least endured his father’s constant drilling, but the second had fallen for a daughter of a fallen house.
Get lost. I have only one son.
When that plan—to marry the younger son into a useful family—collapsed, the marquis expelled him without hesitation.
Yet what seemed resolved resurfaced when his only remaining son died in a riding accident. He left no children behind.
Though still considered less powerful than the Side Dukedom, the Crow Marquisate had amassed one of the greatest fortunes in the empire. The marquis, though still vigorous, was no young man. With his heir gone, a pack of never-before-seen relatives swarmed the manor, drawn by the scent of inheritance.
At length, the marquis began searching for the granddaughter said to have been left behind by his disowned second son.
But it was an old matter, and the trail had long gone cold. The son, who had lived in the city’s slums, had died in a carriage accident, and soon after, his wife too passed away. No one seemed to know what became of their child.
How could they? The poor district where they’d lived was filled with people too wretched to remember another’s plight when they could barely survive each day themselves.
When word spread that the marquis was searching for his granddaughter, swindlers showed up in droves, each claiming to be her.
After scouring orphanages and poorhouses across the empire, the marquis finally found Hildegard. Instead of immediately adopting her, he watched her closely, citing various reasons.
She had her father’s handsome looks, the intelligence to graduate the academy with honors on scholarship, and—regardless of gossip—proved a deeply satisfying “result.”
Even when the marquis publicly declared he had found his heir, society debated Hildegard’s legitimacy for quite some time—just as they had once whispered about Mariana’s bloodline as the Side family’s adoptee.
But in the end, Hildegard was a different breed from Mariana.
The Duke of Side could scarcely believe that the woman before him was the same one he had seen just a few months ago at the victory banquet—a girl then too awkward to leave the edges of the hall. Now, she commanded and subdued even the most cunning young ladies of society.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only what I said. You grow lovelier by the day—it’s only natural I’d think as much.”
Her silk dress finely embroidered, her jewelry of unmistakably high purity, her soft leather shoes, her fan trimmed with exotic feathers, and lace gloves delicate enough to imagine some poor woman toiling all night to craft them.
Even the usually indifferent duke could see nothing about her appearance was lacking.
But above all, it was the confidence she radiated—the kind that could sway an entire gathering—that betrayed the marquis’s strong backing.
Lowering her gaze, Hildegard bit her lip. The duke seemed to know something… or perhaps not.
Had he overheard the earlier conversation at the tea gathering? Could he already know why she needed to hurry into marriage?
She secretly searched the duke’s face for answers. He only turned his teacup lazily in his hands, looking unconcerned.
“Your compliment… thank you.”
Hildegard fell quiet, hesitating. She opened her mouth as though to speak several times before finally smiling shyly and meeting the duke’s eyes.
“May I ask you something?”
“Of course, my lady.”
The duke shrugged amiably, his tone promising he would hear anything. Emboldened, Hildegard asked:
“Why haven’t you returned an answer to the marriage contract? Unless… unless you dislike me?”
“What does liking or disliking have to do with it?”
“…What?”
Hildegard’s face went pale. Marriage to the Duke of Side was her only hope to retain her noble status while escaping the marquisate. And yet… what kind of thunderbolt of an answer was this?
“Everyone seems so interested in my marriage,” he went on.
From the emperor she had seen that morning, to the head maid at the greenhouse—everywhere, people treated his marriage as if it were a grand affair.
Should I call it burdensome… or suspicious?
Suspicious in the emperor’s case, burdensome in the maid’s?
With a faint smirk, Joseph, Duke of Side, continued:
“I hear you’ve been helping greatly with the marquis’s trading company.”
“Yes… well.”
The trading business consumed nearly all of Hildegard’s time. She handled accounts, taxes, and even menial warehouse work when labor was short. From dawn until late at night, she was exploited to the utmost.
The marquis called it “training for an heir,” but in truth, he was squeezing every ounce of her talent.
Others saw her toil as “help.” They did not see the fatigue eating away at her body and spirit. Still, she endured.
She could not give up—the sprawling mansion, the seasonal wardrobes of splendid gowns, the jewels, the bowing heads wherever she went. Once you had tasted noble life, how could you abandon it?
Her old academy peers had envied her fiercely when she was revealed to be the marquis’s granddaughter. None of them would guess that she still labored harder than ever before.
“I haven’t been long back from the war,” said the duke. “In that time, the estate and the trading company have piled up endless tasks. Unfortunately, unlike the marquis, I don’t have someone as capable as you to aid me.”
He paused, meeting her eyes.
His blue gaze, dark as the midnight sky, made her cheeks flush.
“Once we marry, all my abilities will of course belong to Your Grace,” she blurted.
But the duke pretended not to hear and went on:
“More than anything, I don’t really know you. Most political marriages are settled with documents exchanged and a wedding day arrival, but still… that feels rather…”
He trailed off, frowning, unable to find the right word.
“Unromantic,” Hildegard supplied quickly.
The duke’s eyes widened, then he broke into a bright smile. Romantic—of all words, to hear it from his own lips.
“Romantic. Precisely, my lady. You truly are perceptive.”
At his praise, Hildegard’s heart fluttered. Foolish as the feeling was, at least in looks, the duke was the most striking man she had ever seen.
“So I think it wouldn’t be bad to take some time to know each other better.”
“Is that why you haven’t signed the marriage contract?”
It was hardly reason enough, but the duke only answered with a smile.
“In that case, I’m relieved. At least it isn’t that you dislike me. If that’s the reason, then I’m happy to wait. I’ll tell Grandfather as much.”
At least then, for a while, the marquis would stop pressing her so harshly. Hildegard’s expression brightened into a radiant smile of relief.
