Chapter 68
“She’s staying out quite a while.”
It seemed the reunion with her family was drawing out, as expected. It wasn’t yet midnight, but it was already late.
What irritated Caesar wasn’t so much that his wife was absent, but that none of the servants had informed him of her absence until now.
But then, he noticed the butler hesitating with a troubled expression.
“What is it?”
Now that he was paying attention, the other servants also wore oddly awkward expressions.
“There’s no issue, Your Excellency. However… the Madam has already returned from the ducal house in the evening and is currently in the residence.”
The middle-aged butler, who had begun working under the Valentin Margravate since last year, relayed the necessary information while doing his best to remain composed. He had no idea how his master would respond to this unusual situation.
Beatrice not being there felt that strange. As if in just ten short months, her presence had become so firmly imprinted—like the sun rising in the morning and the moon at night, her appearance to greet him had come to feel natural.
That absence now seemed so unnatural even to the servants, it was hard to imagine how much stranger it would feel to the margrave, who had come to receive all of that affection.
“She’s already back? Then why…”
Caesar nearly asked aloud why Beatrice hadn’t come out to greet him but stopped himself. The way he had come to take her welcome for granted made him feel slightly foolish. Regardless of the growing unease in his chest, he said nothing.
“After returning, the Madam mentioned a slight headache. She took a mild painkiller and went to bed early. She’s likely in a deep sleep from the fatigue of travel.”
The sharp butler quickly explained why Beatrice hadn’t come to greet him. Caesar’s usual expressionless face, always cold as ice, grew even colder.
“Why was I not informed?”
“Forgive me, Milord. As there were no other symptoms besides the headache, I thought it was a minor matter and…”
“I’ll go to her bedchamber.”
“Ah, Your Excellency. That is… the Madam…”
As Caesar looked questioningly at the butler’s renewed hesitation, a maid standing nearby answered in a reluctant voice.
“The Madam asked to rest in another room prepared in the residence today. She is currently sleeping in the lady’s chamber connected by the side door to your bedroom, Your Excellency.”
At that unexpected statement, Caesar’s lips parted slightly as if to speak, then closed firmly.
From the servants’ perspective, Caesar was never an easy master to read. For people whose job was to gauge their master’s mood through facial expressions, tone, and gestures, Caesar—who gave away nothing—was always a mystery.
This time was no different. Their master remained expressionless, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.
But one thing was certain. He was most likely not in a pleasant state.
Was he angry, perhaps? Or…
“…I’ll go to her there.”
The large figure retreating toward the bedchamber somehow seemed forlorn to those watching… though perhaps that was just their imagination.
***
Silently entering the lady’s chamber, Caesar found his wife fast asleep. If this was how she wished to appear, then he would, at the very least, honor that wish and believe it.
He could easily tell the difference between the breathing of someone asleep and someone awake. But facing the reality that his beloved wife was pretending to sleep just to avoid him felt incredibly difficult.
‘I’m sure she has her reasons…’
He had come, at first, just to check whether she was seriously unwell, but now, Caesar could only console himself with that thought as he quietly left the room.
Surely, she had a reason for not wanting to come out to greet him, enough to lie about it. A reason, too, for suddenly wanting to sleep in a different bedroom, when they had always shared the same one.
Feigning ignorance of the gnawing anxiety spreading inside him, he could only wait in silence for Beatrice to tell him why.
But her behavior was completely unlike before. In the past, she had always come to him first, even if he made no effort. But now, Beatrice seemed to be growing more distant with each passing day.
While he cowered in fear and did nothing, the situation continued to spiral.
After a full week, she finally sent word to dine together. He hoped that perhaps her mood had improved, but somehow their conversation kept missing the mark.
“Oh, and… I know it’s only our first year of marriage, but starting next year, would it be alright if I spent the season on my own? Of course, if there’s work that absolutely requires you to be in the capital, that’s understandable. But I get the feeling parties aren’t really your thing.”
To come alone to this sophisticated jungle of a place, so far from their estate… there was no way he could agree to that in his right mind.
But Caesar couldn’t bring himself to restrict Beatrice’s actions. His face only stiffened, unable to express what he truly felt.
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