Chapter: 31
“What was I supposed to do? Mother was ill. Do you think I felt good about it? I regretted it too, I did!”
When the lie meant to shield Emma was exposed, Marquis Aster held Celia tightly, as if he understood.
Even with her father’s consolation, the unease in her heart did not disappear.
Hearing that Richea had come down from the attic, Celia went to find her, hoping to quell the anxiety within.
“What trouble are you trying to cause now?”
“About that dayā¦”
“Celia Aster. Some things can never go back to the way they were before. You were the one who threw away your last chance. Get out of my room.”
She had always hated this half-sister who looked at her as if she were a nuisance.
But it was only when she met those dry eyes, devoid of any emotion at all, that she realized even that annoyance had been a luxury.
Richea’s wordsāthat it was irreversibleāterrified her.
So she acted as if it had never happened, as if she had simply forgotten.
She thought that way, she could hide it.
“But it’s been years now. Couldn’t you cut me some slack? I was just scaredā¦ I couldn’t speak because I was scared.”
She couldn’t bring herself to push away her ailing mother who clung to her.
Her mother, who had been so excited at the prospect of finally playing the lady of the house, seemed so pitiful.
She felt that if she told the truth, her mother would resent her. She didn’t have the courage to face that.
Held in Richea’s grip, Celia gasped and spewed out her old, worn-out excuses.
“No, Celia. I’m the one who should be scared. You were always surrounded by people on your side.”
In the Aster Marquisate, Celia was like a heirloom hidden deep in a vault.
The look in Emma’s eyes, fiercely protective, as if guarding a kitten.
The Marquis’s back, handing over expensive jewels, saying to understand because her younger sister was young.
What that solid fortress protected was her two-years-younger half-sister.
“But how could I possibly let it slide for you? I have a hard enough time protecting myself.”
“I thought you were someone who was never afraid of anything, unnie. You were always so confident, never intimidated. So, soā¦”
No matter how much she threw tantrums to try and get Richea’s attention, all she received in return was utter disregard.
She resented that Richea, and envied her too.
So she acted even more prickly. She wanted those eyes to look at her, somehow.
“Celia, there’s no such person in the world. It might have just looked that way.”
“ā¦”
“To me, that house was a prison. I’ve only just escaped from it. So don’t tell me to ever go back. If I go back to that houseā¦ nothing would be left.”
Richea murmured lowly, prying Celia’s hand from her chin with force.
Celia stumbled and fell, her face tilting sideways.
Her shimmering blonde hair fell loose, covering her face. Bowing her head, Celia muttered.
“ā¦Unnie, do youā¦ hate me that much?”
“No, not particularly.”
“ā¦”
“Really. Compared to your father and your twin brother, your tantrums were barely a tickle.”
The person she hated most in that house, first and foremost, was the man called her father who had sired her.
Next was Edward, drunk on the petty power of being the young marquis, strutting around pretending to be something special.
Compared to those two, Celia was easy, her thoughts transparent. In fact, it was amusing how predictably she reacted to any prodding.
“Then, can we go back to how things wereā¦”
Richea reached out, brushing aside Celia’s disheveled hair.
With a dazed expression, Celia took Richea’s outstretched hand.
Effortlessly pulling Celia to her feet, Richea smiled lightly, as if relieved of a burden.
“I justā¦ don’t want you in the rest of my life.”
There was little time left and much to be done. She had no time to spare for Celia.
“Go back. And don’t come looking for me again. Not that I’d see you even if you did, like today.”
Richea let go of her hand and spun around.
Celia, standing there blankly, hastily reached out.
If she let go of this hand now, she felt she’d never be able to hold on again.
Celia’s outstretched fingertips barely seemed to brush Richea’s wrist when a man suddenly appeared and pulled Richea into an embrace.
Clenching her fist in frustration, Celia looked up.
An impeccably handsome face gazed back at her, wearing a smile.
Seeing that face, which she believed had seduced Richea, made her sick.
Just as Celia was pouting in displeasure.
Diarmuid’s smooth lips parted.
“Did youā¦ greet me?”
The man’s resonant voice sounded as if he were speaking right beside her.
A chill ran down Celia’s spine, and she furrowed her brow deeply.
‘What about a greetā Oh!’
It dawned on Celia belatedly, and she chewed on her lip.
“I believe I’ve seen your face quite a few times, yet I don’t recall ever receiving a greeting from you, my lady. Am I mistaken?”
Even after being twice called out for her rudeness to royalty, she couldn’t keep her head held high.
Celia bowed deeply.
āā¦I, Celia of Aster, offer my greetings to His Imperial Highness, the Grand Duke Cassius.ā
Watching Celia bow, he looked down and toyed with Richea’s hair, still cradled in his arms.
“Ritsy, is your talk over?”
Richea looked between Celia, still frozen in her bow, and him.
It was unlike him.
When Richea tilted her head in puzzlement, he quirked an eyebrow playfully.
“You said it would only take a moment, but you kept me waiting so longā¦ Are you already planning to neglect me?”
Without warning, the curtain rose on a play.
Startled, Richea blinked rapidly before finally managing to deliver her line.
āā¦Our time together is just beginning, after all.ā
It was a trite and overwhelmingly cheesy line.
No matter how urgent the situation, Richea wanted to cover her own mouth for saying such a thing. Her face flushed.
He coughed, covering his mouth with his fist, barely suppressing a laugh.
“Ah, of course. Absolutely.”
His voice cracked, still thick with suppressed laughter.
“Shall we go then? To enjoy our time together.”
He tightened his arm around Richea’s waist, pulling her closer, and glanced back at Celia, offering a perfunctory farewell.
“Lady Aster, it was nice meeting you today. Have a safe trip home.”
With her head bowed, Richea let him guide her out of the reception room.
As soon as the door closed, he burst into the laughter he’d been holding in.
“So, what should we do now, hmm? Since it’s ‘our time together’ now.”
“Your Highness, stop teasing.”
“I wasn’t teasing, I was just looking forward to itā¦”
When Richea narrowed her eyes at his continued teasing, he raised both hands in surrender.
“Alright.”
Even during the short walk to Richea’s room, Diarmuid greeted every staff member they passed.
Richea thought his kindness was like the sun, shining equally on all the world.
“Hmm, isn’t it a bit too late for tea?”
He said, holding the door open for her once they reached her room.
As if he’d regret even this brief parting for the night.
He shrugged, as if urging her to go inside. Impulsively, Richea grabbed his hand as he turned to leave.
“Give me tea.”
Pulled by Richea’s hand, he stepped into the room.
With a dull thud, the door closed behind them.
“Come to think of it, I have some tea that Earl Dalton gave me, said it’s good for sleepā¦”
After carefully examining the tea already in the room, he had a servant bring some flower tea.
“Try it. If you like it, I’ll leave it for you.”
He brewed the tea with care and slid the cup towards Richea.
The tea, which should have been a bright yellow, was, for some reason, a muddy ochre color.
“ā¦”
Without a word, Richea lifted the cup and swallowed the tea.
“How is it?”
He asked, his face a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.
The taste was as expected.
It was the flavor of fragrant earth, heavily infused with the scent of flowers.
Just steeping tea leaves in hot water, yet producing this tasteāit was a talent, if nothing else.
“It’s good.”
At her response, he beamed and pushed the tea leaves towards her.
“Then I’ll leave it for you, soā¦”
“If I want to drink it, I’ll come to you and ask, Your Highness.”
“ā¦”
“You don’t want me to?”
“No, of course not. Whenever you wish.”
At his consent, Richea slowly swallowed the rest of the tea.
The tea he’d brewed had a strange, warm taste, unlike anything she’d ever had.
Having only just finished one cup, Richea felt as relaxed as if she’d soaked herself in hot water.
“I didn’t expect you to do that to Celia.”
Making someone wait without receiving their greeting was a social custom used to embarrass someone or dampen their spirit. It was also a frequent method of disciplining young nobles who acted haughtily right after their debutante ball.
“It was a bit childish.”
He wrinkled his nose sheepishly.
“No, it’s just thatā¦ Your Highness is usually so kind and gentle. It was a little surprising, you treating Celia that way.”
She never would have imagined Diarmuid behaving like that towards a lady so much younger than him. If she hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have believed it even if she’d heard.
“Do you think I’m lacking somehow?”
Frowning deeply as if something bothered him, he asked. Lifting her head, Richea immediately denied it.
“No. Your Highness is intelligent and wise.”
“Thank you, for seeing me in such a good light.”
Only then did his expression relax. He lightly kissed her forehead.
He continued in a low, calm voice.
“If someone can feel favorably toward the family that abused their wife, that’s not kindness or gentleness. That’s indifference. It would mean their own reputation is more important to them than their wife’s wounds.”
He believed relationships began with observation.
Watching the person you’re interested in.
That was the start of all relationships.
The Richea he saw was covered in scars.
He didn’t want to think about his own reputation when faced with someone who was bleeding.
“I don’t want to be that kind of lacking husband.”
