Chapter 61
Whenever Claudio visited the villa, he would sometimes come to this garden.
It was the only one ever tended by the late Duchess Gloria.
So when Visd confirmed that Claudio was not in his office, he went straight to the garden.
As expected, above the tall rose trees glowing faintly under the lantern light like starlight, there shone that dazzling golden hair.
There’s no way anyone else in this world could have such perfect golden hair.
As he suspected, that brilliant gold belonged to Claudio.
The problem was—he wasn’t alone.
Oh no, what do I do?
Without meaning to, Visd had just exposed Claudio’s identity.
A cold terror gripped him.
“Ha…”
Claudio swept his hair back irritably.
His mood had already been foul, and now came this unwanted development.
Smoothing his frown, he looked at Marsha.
She seemed uncertain.
As if she believed she must have misheard, or that Visd had mistaken someone in the darkness and simply slipped up.
If Claudio pretended not to understand why Visd had addressed him that way, Visd would surely play along.
Then Marsha, even if a little suspicious, would let it pass—for now.
But Claudio chose not to do that.
“Visd. Good timing. The one you failed to catch is right here.”
His voice cut cold and sharp.
Marsha flinched.
He didn’t deny it.
That meant… was Mr. Dio truly the Duke?
Her heart froze, as though she were standing on thin ice over a frozen lake.
At that moment, Visd bowed deeply to Claudio.
“My apologies. I will take care of it at once.”
When he lifted his head, his expression was merciless as he advanced on Wilford.
“A-ah…! P-please, forgive me! It was truly a mistake…!”
Wilford collapsed to the ground in terror, pleading.
But Visd grabbed his arm and dragged him off, like a child being hauled away mid-tantrum.
“M-Marsha, explain to him! Please, help me!”
Wilford begged and begged, but Marsha only bit her lip and lowered her eyes.
“Please! Mmph—!”
Visd silenced him, cutting off his cries.
As Wilford was dragged away, the rose garden fell into an eerie hush.
But Marsha could not even sense that silence.
Her mind was in turmoil.
What should I say?
Should she ask why he had deceived her? Or should she put aside her resentment and questions, and treat the man before her as a Duke, as he truly was?
Then Claudio spoke in a low murmur.
“You seem to have poor luck with men, Lady Emelide.”
Marsha’s brows had been knit with worry, but her eyes flew wide in shock.
How does he know that?
Had he overheard her earlier conversation with Wilford?
Or had he known all along?
No, the how did not matter.
What mattered was that this man—this Claudio—was none other than the great Duke Gloria.
And she?
She was nothing more than a pauper hiding behind a noble name.
For someone in her position, questioning him was unthinkable.
All she was permitted was to bow her head, apologize for not recognizing him, and beg forgiveness for her impertinence.
She knew this reality all too well.
And yet—Marsha could not bow.
Not from rebellion.
“Why did you hide it from me?”
Her round eyes, wounded, held his gaze.
Tears threatened to spill, but her pride kept them from falling.
“At the very least, after I met Urian, you could have told me. No—if not then, you should have told me when you gave me the contract.”
“…”
Claudio let out a long sigh, and Marsha’s frown deepened.
“Did you enjoy deceiving me?”
“No.”
He denied it quickly, afraid she might think he had only toyed with her.
“Well… yes, I enjoyed it. But it wasn’t the deception I enjoyed.”
Afraid she might misunderstand and think he had been bored with her all along, he hurried to add the words.
Yet his tongue felt strangely heavy.
“But if I had revealed who I was, you would have pushed me away—of course you would. And I couldn’t bear that.”
“So in the end, you deceived me for your own amusement.”
Claudio’s tongue pressed against his teeth, restless.
He had spoken honestly, but to Marsha, it must have sounded like nothing but a hollow excuse.
No… she understood correctly.
He had stayed by her side only for that selfish reason.
What made him feel so stifled now was that, while it may have begun that way, it was no longer true.
…Should I never have lied?
For once, Claudio questioned his own choice.
But the truth was, there had been no other way to stay beside her.
And so he did not regret it.
On the contrary, deceiving her had been the best decision of his life.
Marsha gave a bitter smile at his silence.
She had hoped he would deny it to the end.
That he would say there had been reasons, complicated ones, reasons he could not share.
If he had said so and truly apologized, she might have swallowed her hurt with clenched teeth.
But he won’t even give me a token apology.
What was she to him? Just a toy to play with? Did he mock her behind her back for clinging so easily to a little kindness?
Stop it. Enough.
She warned herself. Claudio might have lied, but he wasn’t a bad man. At least, she wanted to believe—
What are you thinking?
The voice of her past self whispered in her ear.
Your friend betrayed you.
Your fiancé betrayed you.
And now you’re going to trust someone again?
Her heart pounded violently.
This man deceived you too.
So why do you want to believe he’s good?
Do you think this is nothing now?
Marsha longed to answer back, but even she found it strange.
Why do I so badly want to believe in him?
She could never forgive Wilford.
She could never trust him.
And yet, Claudio—why was he the one she wished to believe in?
She remembered how he had woken her from nightmares.
His steady, calm voice when he comforted her.
The way he made sure she ate, like a parent would.
The way he had come to meet her because he was worried.
Again and again, at every moment, he had been unfailingly kind.
So… that’s why I…
Her eyes reddened as she bit her lip hard.
At that moment, a warm coat settled over her shoulders.
Claudio’s—he had been holding it all along.
Startled, she looked up.
“I meant to tell you.”
His heavy voice lingered in the air.
“I never wanted you to find out like this. I knew it was only right to confess sooner. But I couldn’t, because…”
His hand lifted, as if to cradle her face, then halted in midair.
“…because I thought you’d feel burdened by me. That you’d distance yourself.”
The same words again.
Did they sound like yet another excuse, a flimsy defense?
But this was his truth.
Anxious that his sincerity might be misunderstood, he pressed on.
“That, I couldn’t stand. I hated it.”
“…Why did you hate it so much?”
Marsha’s hands clutched the coat to her chest as she asked.
“Because…”
Just then, a gust of wind swept through.
The fragrance of roses, trapped in the night air, stirred wildly and enveloped her.
If scents had color, her body would have been bathed entirely in red.
