Chapter 60

I spent a whole week turning it over, but I still couldn’t bring myself to ask Martin about that “contract.”
Since he never raised it either, maybe Viscountess Harold was just trying to bait me.
I swore I wouldn’t step into her trap.

…but then this happened.

“You’re going to a couples’ gathering?” Erica asked, looking between Mary—who was dressing me—and me.
There was a plate of cake sitting beside my sister-in-law as if she’d been there all along.

“When did you sneak in here?” I thought.

“That’s how it turned out,” I said.

“Can’t I come too?” she pressed, hands clasped at her chest, eyes pleading. “I’ll be bored without you.”

“I get it, but… why do you think it’s called a couples’ gathering?”
Erica paused, then lit up as if she’d found a solution.

“Then I should hurry up and get married.”

I nearly choked.

“You’re talking about marriage now?”

“What about Prince Oscar?” I tried.

“Mmm… I don’t know.”

“…You don’t know?”
I hadn’t expected much, but still—where was the male-lead sparkle?

“He’s kind and a good person,” she admitted, “but romantically… I’m not sure.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Is there anyone else you do like?”

“Why wouldn’t there be? Plenty of people like me.”

Without meaning to, I thought of Aaron—far too clearly.

“Anyway, nothing happened with the prince? I heard you two took a walk in the garden when you slipped out.”

When Martin and I came back from the royal garden and Erica was missing, I’d guessed she was with Oscar.

“He just said it was nice to have someone to talk to.”
Prince, you blockhead. A leading man needs to take the initiative!

Erica took a big bite of cake.

“So that’s why you danced with Aaron?”

“Yep. He asked me first.”

As if I didn’t know—I’d witnessed it with my own eyes.
She flushed pink. Apparently, Aaron was the straightforward type.

“Dangerous, dangerous,” I thought. He’s not even in the original story, yet he steals hearts so easily.

Then Erica shot a question back at me.
“Why did you marry my brother, anyway?”

“Eh?”

I couldn’t hide my surprise at the sudden attack.

“He’s so stiff and not fun at all.”

Was he? I’d never really put it like that.
I’d been the one asking roundabout questions because I couldn’t ask directly why we married.

‘D-did we ever actually fall in love?’

Hadn’t I blurted that to Martin while tipsy?

Erica continued, gaining momentum, “Honestly, when you first came to our house, your face looked awful—like a forced marriage. Right, Mary?”

Then, seeing Mary’s frantic hand signals, she clamped her mouth shut.

Hic.

She’d closed it so fast she hiccuped.
Mary hurried to change the mood and fussed with my hair.

“All done, my lady. You should go before the duke has to wait.”

“Mmh.”

Her smile felt like, Don’t let Erica’s words bother you.
But how could I not?

Erica looked at us with wide eyes and quietly ate her cake.
I forced an easy smile so they wouldn’t think they’d ruined my mood.

“I’ll be back, Mary. And you—enjoy your cake, my lady.”

Even as I left, my head was a mess.
I couldn’t stop thinking— even in the carriage on the way to the event.

A couples’ party, and I’m fixated on why we married?

“A forced marriage, huh…”
And when I’d asked Martin whether we’d ever loved each other, what did he answer?
Of all times, I’d been drunk and missed the important part. And asking again now felt… awkward.

Because I’m not the real Gemma, there are things I can’t know. It made me uneasy.

Martin noticed. “Is something wrong?”

“Anyone can see you’re worried about something,” he said.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Erica said something odd.”

He tilted his head. “Odd?”

“She says my face was terrible the day I first came to the manor.”

“Does that trouble you?”

It wasn’t the face that bothered me; it was not knowing why Gemma had worn it.

I gave a small nod. Martin cleared his throat.

“Whatever the past was, the present matters more to me.”

That sounded… meaningful.

“You aren’t going to tell me you don’t remember our wedding day, are you?” I teased.

He smirked. Why smile like that? As if I’d forgive him just for grinning?

My cheeks grew warm.

Later, I realized—maybe he meant the current me is what matters to him now.

Our carriage stopped before a grand mansion.
Its walls seemed to glitter like something out of a hero’s tale.

“No way…”

A bad feeling pricked me. I poked Martin’s side.

“Um, husband…?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Who’s hosting tonight?”

He pulled out the invitation, but I couldn’t wait; I snatched it and skimmed.

“Count Melion’s…?”

No wonder the place had an aura. So even houses can have a protagonist’s glow? I was speechless.

A servant led us to a sitting room filled with the count couple’s taste.
Their portrait hung on the wall—with a bright, smiling portrait of Catherine between them.

“This looks… familiar,” I thought—remembering our own family portrait.

But wait—wasn’t this supposed to be a couples’ gathering?

I nudged Martin. “Didn’t you say couples?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are we the only ones here?”

He only smiled. The count and countess soon entered.

The countess greeted me warmly, pressing her cheek to mine.
I still wasn’t used to that style of greeting.

“Thank you for inviting us,” I said.

“Oh, not at all. You’ve come a long way,” she replied.

She was older than me, but thanks to excellent self-care, her face barely had a wrinkle.
Call it protagonist-parent buff, I guess.

“We asked you here for two reasons,” the countess continued. “To thank you for your kindness to our Catherine, and to apologize for the rudeness shown to you at court.”

Wasn’t the rude one the Marquess of Holm?
The count himself had seemed gentlemanly.

“I enjoyed our garden walk with Lady Catherine,” I said.

“We wished to host you for lunch to express it personally,” she said.

So the “couples’ gathering” was actually a meeting with Catherine’s parents.
Well, they are a couple, so technically not wrong.

“Thank you. I should have brought my young lady as well,” I said.
Erica had wanted to come—and even declared she’d marry just to attend.

“If only we’d known, we would have invited her too,” the countess smiled. “Catherine talks about Lady Erica all the time.”

“Then we’d love to invite you to our manor soon,” I said.
Staying close with the heroine’s parents can only help.

“Please, this way—the meal is ready.”

We followed them to a small table where two places had been set with rare delicacies.
“Is… that our seats?”

I hadn’t expected such special treatment.

As soon as I sat, I quietly slid the plate that looked like an animal’s heart in front of them.

“We procured that for the duke and duchess—please enjoy it,” the count said.

“Since it’s a couples’ lunch,” I replied sweetly, “why don’t you two share a plate together?”

They looked sheepish but didn’t refuse again.

It probably looked generous of me, but honestly…

“Sorry, I can’t eat a heart,” I thought. Creepy foods are a hard no.

Thankfully, Martin read my expression and didn’t try to offer it to me.
Good thing our instincts match in moments like this.

I focused on the other (normal) meats.

Silence stretched, and I couldn’t stand it.

“So—where is Lady Catherine today?”

“She’s obsessed with painting lately,” the countess said. “She spends all day in her room with her canvases.”

“Painting?”
That was unexpected—the original story never mentioned it.

“She was bedridden for so long,” the count said. “She couldn’t do many active things.”

“I’d love to see her work,” I said. “May I?”

At the countess’s signal, a servant brought down several of Catherine’s paintings.

The moment I saw them, one person popped into my mind.

“They remind me of someone,” I murmured.

“Hmm?” the countess tilted her head.

“The artist who did our family portrait—the very serious one about art. Do you know Master Gilbert?”