Chapter 3…………………………
“Trisha! What do you think you’re doing?!”
Edwin, sprawled across the lobby floor, glared at Trisha while clutching his cheek.
He—Edwin Mason, the Duke of Mason—had been struck in the face. And not by just anyone, but by his own wife, Trisha Mason.
Naturally, Edwin was furious. At the same time, he was deeply shaken.
She hit her husband in front of everyone?
“Have you lost your mind? How could you possibly—”
“How could you do this to me?”
“Uh…?”
Edwin faltered.
“Knowing how much I trusted you! How much I relied on you!”
Trisha was crying.
That Trisha Mason—the one who looked like not even a needle could draw blood from her—is crying?
And because she’s hurt that I cheated?
His heart dropped.
Watching tears flow down cheeks as flawless as the finest pearls—
Damn, she’s pretty.
No wonder he’d been bewitched enough by that face to propose.
At the same time, his anger over being struck seemed to ease a little. Yes—she must have been truly hurt for such a gentle woman to throw a punch.
As the magnanimous one, he should understand.
“Don’t cry, Trisha.”
Edwin pushed himself up.
He reached out to wipe her tears, but Trisha slapped his hand away.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
“What?”
“I’m saying we should divorce.”
At Trisha’s calm words, Edwin asked again in confusion.
“What are you talking about, Trisha? Divorce?”
“If you’ve found a new love, then it can’t be helped. I won’t cling to you pathetically. So let’s divorce—”
“No, you can’t!”
The near-scream didn’t come from Trisha or Edwin.
Everyone’s gaze naturally turned toward the source.
Trisha blinked in confusion.
“Aunt?”
The person who had suddenly appeared in the lobby, shouting, was—
“Edwin, come see me for a moment.”
The speaker was Edwin’s aunt, Marchioness Devon.
“Edwin, are you planning to give up the support of Count Rosenthein?”
“What? Of course not!”
Edwin jumped in protest, prompting the marchioness to click her tongue.
“Then you shouldn’t allow that lowly thing to dare talk about divorce with you!”
“But I’m back now, aren’t I?!”
Edwin pointed angrily, as if he were the wronged one.
“And what on earth did you do to make the always-docile Trisha turn so fierce?!”
“You’re the one who left, talking about business and whatnot. I merely protected your vacant seat and devoted myself to this ducal house.”
The Marchioness Devon took a step back.
Edwin still doesn’t know that he never truly married Trisha.
She had secretly spent a fortune falsifying documents, unwilling to let her nephew be tied down by a woman of foreign blood.
All Edwin knew was that Trisha’s older brother was providing not only a dowry but extensive support.
“At least for now, keep things quiet. Play around with your mistress after Trisha abandons the idea of divorce.”
She couldn’t give up Count Rosenthein just to gain a mere princess of Solten.
The House of Rosenthein was an old noble family that had stood alongside the empire since its founding. If that were all, they wouldn’t be clinging so desperately.
But another defining trait of the Rosenthein family was their commercial talent, passed down for generations.
In particular, the current Count Rosenthein’s business acumen was extraordinary. Everything he touched succeeded, and he was rising as the greatest businessman of the age.
Edwin seemed to agree that making an enemy of Count Rosenthein would do him no good, and he didn’t argue further.
Still, irritation showed as he raked a hand through his hair.
“Hah… then you try persuading Trisha, Aunt.”
“What?”
“You locked her up so she couldn’t even go outside while I was gone, didn’t you? Ease up on that, placate her a little—she’ll come around.”
“That’s nonsense!”
The marchioness hadn’t imposed the confinement for no reason.
Part of it was not wanting to present her foreign niece-in-law to society—but the real reason lay elsewhere.
“What if she runs into Count Rosenthein?”
If Trisha were to learn the truth about the dowry, it would be a complete disaster.
“Trisha hates her own brother, you know.”
Edwin’s response was indifferent.
“Even if she ran into him by chance, she’d leave without saying a word. How would the count ever find out we’re siphoning off his money?”
“Still…”
“If you’re that worried, assign someone to her. Someone who’ll fend the count off, saying Trisha wants nothing to do with him.”
It wasn’t a bad idea.
“Yes… that will do.”
The marchioness rose from her seat.
“Then I’ll go soothe Trisha as you suggested. You, in the meantime, go visit your mistress.”
“Didn’t you just tell me to be careful?”
“Even so, if you brought her all the way from such a distant land, you should at least treat her as a guest.”
She added a warning not to do anything that would let Trisha openly find fault, then left the sitting room.
To think the day would come when I’d have to placate that lowly thing.
It was filthy and humiliating, but there was no choice if she wanted to squeeze more out of Count Rosenthein.
Swallowing her irritation, she knocked on Trisha’s door.
“I really am going to divorce him, Aunt.”
Trisha continued speaking, her eyes red from crying.
“I endured everything while clinging to Edwin alone. I never imagined it would turn out like this.”
All this over a husband taking a single mistress?
An ungrateful wretch.
Even if she’d brought in a massive dowry, Edwin was of imperial blood—a contender for the throne—while Trisha was an illegitimate child with the blood of a lowly foreigner.
If the marriage were that disadvantageous on their side, she should have lived her whole life as her husband’s servant and still not repaid it.
Edwin truly has no eye for women.
Clicking her tongue inwardly, the Marchioness Devon opened her fan to hide her expression.
“Very well. I understand your wishes.”
“……”
“Divorce Edwin at once. I don’t need a niece-in-law like you either.”
Trisha fell silent for a moment.
Of course.
She has nowhere to go—how dare she talk about divorce.
Trisha believed she’d been abandoned by her brother, Count Rosenthein, over the dowry issue.
She probably thinks that if she divorces Edwin, she’ll be thrown onto the streets without a single coin.
Trisha surely knew the ducal house wouldn’t suddenly divide property with a wife who’d brought no dowry.
In the end, she’d have no choice but to retract her demand and kneel—
“Yes. I’ll do that, Aunt.”
“……”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Take care of your health.”
…She won’t?
Startled, the marchioness studied Trisha’s expression.
Is she putting on a show, hoping I’ll stop her?
But Trisha didn’t even look at her. Instead, she sprang to her feet and pulled a bag out of the wardrobe—
As if she were about to pack immediately.
“W-Wait!”
Faced with her complete lack of hesitation, the marchioness finally grabbed Trisha.
“You truly intend to divorce?”
Trisha turned her head.
“Of course.”
“……”
“I sincerely plan to divorce Edwin. I was lonely the entire time he was away.”
She turned back again, gathering clothes and other belongings.
“Even though I’ve cut ties with my only blood relative and have nowhere to go and no one to rely on… I still don’t want to stay here any longer.”
The marchioness nearly clutched the back of her neck.
She’s serious…
Come to think of it, she’d heard that Trisha had grown up poor, living alone with her foreign mother.
Based on that experience, she must believe she’d manage somehow even if she left this place.
“I’ll lift the ban on your outings!”
In desperation, the marchioness finally threw out bait.
“If I divorce Edwin, then wherever I go is my own business anyway.”
“……”
“You can’t force me, Aunt.”
She was right.
Panicking, she’d thrown out the first thing that came to mind.
The marchioness thought again.
Something that would make Trisha bite immediately.
“Fine. Then how about this?”
Not a bad haul.
Trisha climbed the stairs after extracting various concessions from the Marchioness Devon.
One bout of crying, one punch to Edwin’s face, and she’d gotten what she wanted.
That’s a pretty profitable deal.
If she repeated it too often, the effect would wear off, so she’d restrain herself for now.
Most importantly, I’m glad I got Jane back.
When she said she was lonely with no one to rely on, the marchioness immediately returned Jane to her.
“…Your Grace?”
“Jane.”
Jane, who had been waiting in the corridor, spotted Trisha and hurried toward her.
“I can serve you again, Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness… it feels like a dream!”
Jane threw her arms around Trisha, looking like she might burst into tears.
“You’ve suffered so much, haven’t you?”
“You suffered more than I did.”
Jane Lumen.
She had been Trisha’s maid since Trisha was raised in the House of Rosenthein.
Naturally, she should have continued serving Trisha even in the House of Mason—
But I was powerless.
After being nitpicked over countless pretexts, Jane had been assigned to the laundry, forced to wash clothes from dawn until late at night.
All because she was the maid of a duchess in name only.
