Chapter 30 A Lady's Pride
The man was staring intently.
And although the young lord’s plan seemed flawless, the implacable gaze of the man-at-arms fixed on him.
“So Lord Rivière—at least, the son. I have never even seen you at court. And to think you have been in love with the Duchess of Wingfall all this time—what a surprise.”
The young lord hesitated to correct him.
Something didn’t feel right—but why?
He cleared his throat.
“Love is a strange thing, Lord Voston. You yourself must have a wife and a few children, I am sure. You should understand how feelings evolve.”
Feelings—what a joke.
“My wife and I met through an arranged marriage. Feelings are mere folly, and we both made the right choice. As for you… love is a most curious decision.”
Oscar felt a sudden urge to turn toward the duchess. No—he remained calm. If he had to play the role of the devoted lover to the end—a role he had not chosen and perhaps did not even need to embody.
“Well, I am glad your marriage brings you a measure of satisfaction, and—”
The man cut him off with a wave of the hand.
“Satisfaction, perhaps. But not as much as you will find by marrying a wealthy duchess such as Lady Brynn.”
“I—”
“Everyone is well aware of the state in which the Duchy of Rivière finds itself, Lord Oscar. I know it is not an easy subject, but reality remains.” He pressed the last word against his palate, as though forcing Oscar’s head beneath icy water.
The young lord’s gaze hardened.
“No one appreciates insinuations, Lord Voston. It is exceedingly rude.”
“You are marrying her for money. Besides…” He turned to the duchess, who sipped her tea, calm in appearance yet calculating in gaze. “The Emperor wishes you to know that his son is heartbroken and that he hopes you are not marrying an unknown aristocrat merely to forget the suffering you caused him.”
The duchess finally set her cup down and rested her hands on her crossed knees.
“May the Emperor preserve himself. I am certain his noble son will find a far more worthy match than I—poor, poor soul that I am.”
Her emerald gaze pierced Oscar’s. And she had dared to say he was intimidating. He took her hand in his—an action that made her raise an eyebrow—and offered a courteous smile that masked something far more manipulative. She continued:
“Lord Voston, you may convey my regrets to His Majesty the Emperor. But, as I told him some time ago, I have already found love. Breaking the engagement with his son was a true ordeal for me, but I could not see any other course,” she said, dabbing at an imaginary tear with her gloved hand.
The visitor was about to deliver further hostile words when Oscar interrupted.
“Lord Voston,” the young man began, gently stroking the duchess’s hand with his thumb, “that you insult the painful decisions my father made while grieving the death of my dear mother is already discourteous.” He inhaled. “But that you insult my fiancée under her own roof—I have never witnessed such an affront.”
Oscar tightened his grip slightly. He wanted to play the part, but genuine anger burned within him. Was this truly how the court saw him? A beggar? As for the duchess, the visitor’s words alone were enough to make Oscar want to cross blades with him.
“I know you to be a man of arms, and I respect the efforts you have made for our homeland, both in training your body and in serving the Emperor with your soul. But you should have learned the handling of politeness the moment the Emperor, in his greatness, raised you to nobility,” he declared, unable to conceal his irritation.
The man, though stone-faced, seemed genuinely surprised. His gaze darted between the couple.
“Well, my apologies. I did not intend to appear rude, and—”
Sniff.
Beside him, Brynn sniffled, wiping another imaginary tear with the edge of her embroidered handkerchief.
“Lord Voston, your words have… deeply wounded me. I understand that you serve His Majesty the Emperor and that in his great kindness he worries for his dear son. But breaking this engagement in favour of a love fraught with obstacles was a true challenge—one I still carry with shame and regret. And yet, I wish only the best for the Imperial family and His Highness the Third Prince.”
She sniffled again; for a moment, Oscar thought she might collapse.
“I am,” a sob caught in her throat. “I am deeply sorry. But I love Lord Oscar—it is impossible to deny.”
The final words rang through the room like a cry before she threw herself into the young man’s arms, her shoulders shaken by heavy sobs. Oscar wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back to soothe her.
His heart raced; his brows knit. Was she all right? The question burned on his lips as the tremors of her body echoed in his chest.
He lifted his eyes to Lord Voston, now silent. Clearly, this man did not know how to handle women either.
Was this the common trait of men-at-arms?
He kept his embrace around the duchess’s fragile, sobbing shoulders, his gaze steely.
“You are more than welcome to enjoy the beauty of the surrounding lands. But for now, we will retire. My… fiancée needs rest.”
The effort cost him greatly, and though he maintained his composure, the tension in his face betrayed real concern. Lord Voston eventually nodded.
“Of course. I am sorry to have offended the duchess. I shall take my leave at once.”
Oscar sensed genuine contrition as the man departed, without any lord of the castle escorting him.
His heavy footsteps faded as he crossed the corridor, likely accompanied by a servant.
Gradually, the grand salon returned to silence.
Oscar listened to the retreating steps, then refocused entirely on the weeping duchess.
Just as he was about to call Brennan for assistance, she lifted her head—perfectly composed, save for a few loose strands of hair.
“Is he finally gone?”
Her composure caught the young lord off guard, and he felt the tension drain from his shoulders all at once.
“He… he is, yes.”
She listened to the silence, then turned her face toward Oscar—a grin, but a sincere one.
“We succeeded.”
He could feel her perfume, her shoulders, and the rhythm of her body in his hands.
She was far too close.
He felt his breathing quicken, heat rising to his cheeks.
And yet, he did not truly wish to let her go.
“I… yes. Even if it was sudden.”
She chuckled and rested her head against his chest, releasing the tension as well.
He thought he might faint.
“I did not know you were such a good actor.”
“I didn’t know myself,” he hesitated. “I had to improvise.”
She lifted her eyes, and their gazes met.
“You impress me, my Lord.”
He held his breath and hoped the moment would never end.