Chapter 54
At his final warning, Hezenne couldn’t hold back anymore.
Forgetting the sharp rebuke from earlier not to interrupt him, she raised her voice in agitation.
“…Why shouldn’t I speak of being my mother’s own blood?”
Since their first meeting, Hezenne had always shown only a calm and quiet face—but now, for the first time, Iahn saw her wearing a sharp, biting expression. A strange gleam flickered in his gaze.
He could no longer tell whether his own anger was what came first, or whether it was his desire to draw out even more varied reactions from Hezenne.
“The one and only blood relative of pure, immaculate Claire being a wretch like you—that alone is revolting beyond endurance.”
The words he had spoken just now cut deeper than an insult to Hezenne herself. Seeing her face turn cold, Iahn realized this had struck a nerve.
“If your father hadn’t threatened to sell Claire’s only daughter off to the seventy-year-old lecher, Marquis Kensington—do you really think a wench like you could have ever become the lady of the Clabendie household?”
At the revelation of something she hadn’t known, Hezenne’s eyes flinched. But at that same moment, Iahn felt a premonition—he should not stay here any longer.
Now he had to admit it to himself.
Whatever his feelings might be, the sight of “the bride Hezenne,” fully prepared to consummate the marriage, was undeniably tempting.
From the moment he had stepped into this room, he had already felt the weight stirring below.
Iahn’s original intent had been to punish this wanton woman, who had used her youthful body and beauty to drift from one man’s arms to another. The very first step in his punishment would be to reduce Hezenne—who must have been brimming with expectation to become Grand Duchess—to nothing more than a puppet bride.
“There’s no need for the traditional ‘proof of the bride’s purity’ ritual on the wedding night in this case.”
“……”
Faced with the endlessly alluring figure before him, Iahn forced himself to look away.
After all, the most fitting way to make her into a puppet bride was to leave her as a new wife abandoned on her wedding night.
“It must be your first night here at Clabendie. I hope you rest well—”
Iahn bowed with exaggerated politeness, in the manner of a gentleman. Catching on to his intention, Hezenne’s gaze froze over with icy contempt.
Her lips pressed tightly together, her face sharp with anger. Iahn gave her one last glance, then turned on his heel.
As he strode out of the bedchamber, his jaw was clenched so hard it was rigid with tension.
Hezenne sank into heavy sleep. The moment her consciousness floated back up from its depths was only an instant.
Sensing faint presences around her, her eyes slowly fluttered open.
Her blurry vision first took in an unfamiliar setting, and then gradually, the figures of unfamiliar people standing nearby.
Keeping her body still, she rolled her eyes from side to side—until suddenly she jerked upright in alarm.
Startled by her abrupt motion, the women in the room all turned toward her at once.
“Oh my, you’re awake, madam.”
A middle-aged woman with a warm face stepped forward from the group, beaming, and approached the bed where Hezenne had been lying.
“…Madam?”
The unfamiliar form of address made Hezenne blink her wide eyes in confusion.
Noticing her reaction, the woman’s smile deepened as she bent at the waist to give a courteous greeting.
“My respects, madam. I am Madison, the head housemaid of Clamford. I cannot tell you how glad I am to be serving you.”
“…It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam Madison.”
Hezenne, bewildered by the genuine delight on the woman’s face, muttered softly in reply.
“We tried to make everything as comfortable as possible, but since it was your first night in Clamford, I do wonder if the bed was uncomfortable.”
Touched by the woman’s considerate tone, Hezenne flusteredly waved her hands.
“N-no, not at all. Thanks to you, I slept very well.”
But her face told another story—puffy as if from lack of sleep, her eyes red as though she had cried all night.
With experienced eyes, Madison could easily guess that something troubling had happened the night before. Still, she was careful not to let that show, not wishing to unsettle her mistress.
“I’ll have some warm tea brought for you. It should help wake you up a little.”
“…Yes, thank you.”
Smiling gently at Hezenne’s reply, Madison gave instructions to one of the maids, who promptly left the room.
Then she gestured for the two remaining maids, who were holding dresses, to step forward.
At her signal, they spread the dresses out before Hezenne, and Madison turned back to her.
“Soon, a few of the maids will come to help with your morning preparations. Once you’re ready, you’ll need to move to the main dining room for breakfast. Before that, would you please choose which dress you’d like to wear?”
At this, the two maids stepped closer, displaying the garments more clearly. Hezenne’s eyes moved over them.
One was a bright, springlike dress in pale yellow. The other, more ornate, was emerald, adorned with jewels.
Her face fell slightly.
Both dresses looked even more extravagant and impractical than the ones she had been forced to wear by Baroness Sevis before coming here.
‘How on earth do people manage daily life in dresses that heavy and elaborate…?’
As she hesitated, unable to choose, Madison spoke again with concern.
“Perhaps neither suits your taste? Of course, after breakfast we’ll show you to the wardrobe where your own gowns are prepared, but for now we had these two sent in a hurry. If you dislike them, please say so. Tell me what you prefer, and I’ll have something closer to your liking brought at once.”
“N-no, that won’t be necessary. Umm—this one looks nice.”
Flustered at the idea of inconveniencing them further, Hezenne hastily pointed to the pale yellow gown nearest her.
“Oh my, yes, I thought so too. I was certain this one would go beautifully with your fair skin.”
Fortunately, Madison seemed pleased with her accidental choice, smiling warmly. Hezenne forced a thin, awkward smile in return.
“Your Grace.”
There was no response.
After calling several times without any reaction, the butler, Greg, paused, then tried again gently.
“Your Grace.”
It was strange. Iahn, far sharper and more vigilant than most men, remained completely unresponsive despite being roused repeatedly. Finally, Greg decided he had no choice but to risk offense and step closer to shake him awake.
At that moment—
“Ugh—”
Iahn, sprawled across the long armchair, grimaced and let out a low groan.
And just then—
As Ed and Dustin entered the reception room, they stopped dead, struck speechless by the shocking scene before them.
Ed especially looked as if he were seeing a ghost.
Last night, after tidying up the banquet and resolving the troublesome matter with the archbishop, Ed had returned briefly out of worry. At that time, the reception room had been completely empty.
Though displeased, he had assumed that Iahn had at least gone to fulfill his bridal duty—and had left reassured.
But now, here was Iahn, who should have been in the bridal chamber, lying drunk and unconscious in the reception room instead.
It made no sense.
