Chapter 77
Caesar arrived at the Estern ducal manor at dawn, before the sun had even risen.
The night before, after returning home alone, he had barely slept. The absence of his wife had left a void far greater than he expected.
The house without Beatrice no longer felt like home. A space devoid of the person who should be there was only desolate, and the bedroom, once warm and cozy with her presence, now felt cold and abandoned like an empty nest.
He kept trying to console himself—it was only one night—but the later it grew into the night, the less certain he became of that thought.
What if it wasn’t just one night? What if it took days, no, months to win Beatrice’s heart back? What if… she left him for good?
Gripped by sudden fear, Caesar ended up staying up all night in the study. Then, without much of a plan, he left home and rode out.
The guards and knights at the ducal estate, seeing the youngest lady’s husband appear at such an early hour unannounced, looked at him with eyes full of pity. They were mostly married men who could roughly guess what was going on.
Still, despite their sympathy for the margrave who’d come at the crack of dawn, the fact remained that it was not a convenient time for a visit.
If not for Freya—who had just returned from the Ashburn Duchy’s rural estate—the servants might have been forced to wake the Duke or Duchess to report the situation. And had that happened, the Duke would’ve likely chewed out his youngest son-in-law without mercy.
“Let Margrave Valentin in. I give my permission.”
As the Duchess of Ashburn, and more importantly the eldest daughter of the House of Estern, Freya’s word opened the gates.
Only after being led to the drawing room did Caesar realize how rashly he had shown up. He offered a brief apology to Freya.
“It’s alright. Since Beatrice stayed here last night, I suppose something happened between the two of you.”
Seeing the pained man unable to lift his head, Freya didn’t probe further.
“It’s still quite early, and she seems to still be asleep. Shall I wake her and let her know you’re here?”
Caesar quickly shook his head.
“No, I’ll wait quietly until morning.”
“I see. Then I’ll make sure to inform her once she wakes. Though, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with her first.”
At the questioning look on his face, Freya gave a simple explanation.
“While I was away, I heard that she came by several times while asking after me. Judging by the letters she left with the butler inquiring about my return, it seemed she had something urgent to talk about.”
Caesar had no way of knowing what his wife had been so eager to say, but there was no reason—and no way—for him to stop her.
“Very well.”
“The conversation might take a while.”
“That’s alright. As long as she’s willing to meet me, I’ll wait here for days if I have to.”
The sincere words slipped out unintentionally, and Freya’s brow twitched slightly—for the first time since they’d met.
“Whatever it is, it must be a serious mistake.”
“……I have no excuse.”
“I suppose so. Men, including my own husband, seem to need quite a bit of time to come to their senses even after marriage.”
Caesar didn’t know how to respond, and simply stared blankly at her face. Her cool, elegant features were so serious that it was impossible to tell if she was joking or not.
“Well then, I’ll let you know when Beatrice and I are finished. I have some duties in my office, so I’ll excuse myself.”
“Yes, thank you.”
After parting ways with Freya, Caesar sat waiting quietly, watching as the sky outside gradually brightened.
It wasn’t until nearly noon that he heard she had come down to the dining room for breakfast, but the wait continued.
He was told that Beatrice and Freya were talking in the drawing room, but time seemed to crawl by.
Restless with nervous energy, Caesar eventually couldn’t hold himself back any longer. Just as he approached the room, a fragment of Beatrice’s voice slipped through the thin glass door.
“…If it comes to it, even… divorce …”
It was the moment the last wall inside his heart crumbled.
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