Chapter 227
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Though he knew not much time had passed, Mikhail felt like he was going insane.
He wanted to run straight to where she was, to check on her condition himself — to see if she had cried much, if she was holding up well — only then would he feel at ease.
But he didn’t want to make her hate him more, so he stayed where he was and waited.
After a while, a woman with short hair appeared in the distance.
Mikhail, not caring if his hair became disheveled, walked straight toward her.
Emilia, staggering with unstable steps, saw him and stopped.
“…”
“Come here.”
He spoke softly to comfort her. Emilia, looking dazed and vacant, stared at him.
Noticing her slight tremble, he quickened his pace.
If she couldn’t come to him, he would go to her.
Mikhail reached her in an instant and immediately pulled her into his arms.
“Cry if you want. Don’t hold it in — let it out.”
“…”
Her tears soaked his chest silently; he could feel her sorrow through his entire body.
She clung tightly to his collar, burying her face in his chest without moving. Yet he felt her subtle trembling.
She was forcing herself to suppress her grief. She didn’t want to show any weakness before him.
“I’ll shield you so that even the stars can’t see you, just cry.”
Suddenly, she pushed him away. Though her eyes were red, she didn’t make a sound.
Emilia stumbled back, climbed into the carriage, then leaned wearily against the wall and closed her eyes.
Her pale face and tear-streaked cheeks were clear to see. Her lips were swollen, probably from biting them repeatedly to stop herself from crying.
Emilia didn’t move. Her closed eyes and folded hands made her seem almost lifeless.
The stillness scared Mikhail deeply.
He reached out to embrace her again, but—
“Leave me alone.”
Her trembling voice stopped his hand before it could touch her.
❖ ❖ ❖
Mikhail kept his distance but watched over her constantly. He couldn’t approach, only stare.
Emilia sat in the garden for a long time, seemingly in a daze, staring at the sky.
When the sun set, she would go back to her room — that was all her daily routine.
She began to regain some composure only when preparing for Dahlia’s engagement ceremony.
Remembering the decision to replace the debutante ball with the engagement, she busied herself here and there.
Mikhail quietly called the personal doctor.
“How is the Duchess’s health?”
“…I haven’t been able to examine her properly. She refuses examination, saying there’s no problem if I just stay away.”
The doctor bowed his head deeply. Mikhail frowned and sighed irritably.
“…I’ll call you at night. I want you to examine her in front of me.”
“Understood. I will be on standby.”
The doctor took a short breath and nodded. Mikhail motioned that it was okay for him to leave.
As the doctor departed, Kartho approached.
“Your Grace, everything is ready. Madam has gone to change her clothes.”
“…How does she seem?”
“As usual. Lady Dahlia and Lord Byne are also ready.”
Mikhail looked at the stairs leading upstairs, then quickly turned his head.
“Show me.”
Kartho led the way, with Mikhail following.
They had even sent invitations to the royal family, so they would come here too.
Less than a month had passed since the tragedy of the Loren family. A storm was brewing in Bartsch.
Once it was all over, they would have to leave and go elsewhere. Emilia needed rest.
For the sake of the child in her womb, any risks had to be removed.
“Your Grace, Marquis Gepetto has sent a letter. A small stir will soon begin.”
“I see. It took quite a long time, didn’t it?”
“…Yes. The day we’ve waited and prayed for is drawing near.”
But Mikhail was not happy. Though the end was in sight, his heart still felt heavy.
The closer he came to the goal he desired, the farther he felt from Emilia.
Mikhail ran his fingers through his hair and took a breath.
“Send Dahlia and Emilia to the townhouse on the day the opposition group moves.”
“Will Your Grace not be going?”
“I should stay here. Not where Count Chevron stayed, somewhere with a sea view.”
“I’ll contact the townhouse in Bromley.”
Bromley was a village at the southern tip of Bartsch, by the sea.
It was far from the capital, so trends were slow and news took a long time to arrive.
Even if something happened in the capital, it would take time for Emilia to hear about it there.
Byne would accompany her, so there was no need to worry.
The two leisurely climbed the stairs. Soon, a door opened.
Mikhail faced Byne, who was dressed in a tailcoat.
“…Your Grace.”
Byne looked rather awkward. It seemed to be the first time in a while he had worn a tailcoat instead of his uniform, and he appeared uncomfortable.
“Do you not like Dahlia?”
“No, it’s not that.”
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