Chapter 122
Marchioness Depende turned her head to look at her nephew and let out a quiet sigh.
Her thoughts were too muddled to form a clear answer—if anything, seeing Felice today had only made things worse.
From her nephew’s standpoint, Felice was hardly an ideal bride. Setting the girl’s character aside, her circumstances alone made her unsuitable.
And yet, having actually met Felice, the Marchioness found herself wondering whether Claude would truly be a good husband for Felice instead.
“…I heard you asked Nelly to place Miss Felice as the guest of honor.”
Once Claude was announced as a prince, once the marriage followed—how many things would overturn Felice’s world, how many threats would descend upon her life? It was impossible to predict.
“Claude. I want you to take on only what you can truly bear.”
This time, Claude did not answer.
“Haa… things don’t always unfold according to plan. And winning a person’s heart is even less predictable. You know that better than anyone.”
At her concern, Claude offered a faint smile.
“The more viciously people tear her apart, the stronger the backlash will be. Just as Mother and Aunt are now reproaching me.”
“…Claude.”
“Felice has lived diligently, serving her father faithfully for years. The moment to overturn public opinion is close. If we place her as the guest of honor then and praise her for enduring all this, wouldn’t that align perfectly with the original image of the Kelton family?”
Marchioness Depende stared at him.
“The image of the Keltons as upright, devoted patriots of the Empire still lingers. Many citizens wept before the admiral’s coffin.”
“Haa…”
The Marchioness pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“Have you discussed this with Miss Felice?”
She asked despite already knowing the answer.
“No.”
Just as expected.
“And what of the wounded heart of that young lady? What do you plan to do about that? What’s been seen cannot be undone. Paying off her debts and living quietly with a Baron might have been happiness enough for her, Claude.”
“That won’t be the case.”
The firmness in his reply made her eyes waver.
“You’re certain?”
“It won’t.”
Claude repeated it without hesitation.
The Marchioness studied his eyes for a long moment, then sighed.
“Fine. Enough of you. Bring Miss Felice here. Again.”
“What do you intend to say to her? No. I won’t allow it.”
“Haa… I won’t ask her anything troubling. Just bring her.”
“No. Speak to me instead.”
The Marchioness frowned deeply, but Claude showed no sign of backing down.
In the end, she couldn’t even see Felice’s face, let alone speak with her in the sitting room.
The girl looked so thin—clearly worn down by everything she’d endured—yet her ignorant nephew stood in the way as if shielding her from a cruel mother-in-law.
“…Then at least let me see Mrs. Pritchard again.”
“Very well.”
As soon as Mrs. Pritchard arrived, Claude excused himself from the sitting room as though utterly uninterested.
Watching his retreating back, the Marchioness nearly shouted You wretched boy! aloud.
“Marchioness, it’s been such a long time. The master said you wished to see me…”
“Come here, Mrs. Pritchard. You look well, good to see. There’s something I’d like to ask you…”
She asked about the ring, and Mrs. Pritchard spoke of Felice with the warmth one might reserve for a beloved family member.
The Marchioness nodded repeatedly as she sipped her tea, pride swelling in her chest at how dearly her former pupil was cherished wherever she went.
“Haa… Mrs. Pritchard. Do you think you could bring Miss Felice to me, without Claude knowing?”
Mrs. Pritchard apologized softly.
“Yes… I suppose that would be impossible without Claude’s knowledge.”
With another sigh, the Marchioness turned away, resigned.
“…Marchioness. Today was truly an honor.”
Only when Felice came out to see off the departing carriage did the Marchioness finally get one more glimpse of her pupil’s face.
Even then, Claude remained guarded.
The absurdity of it all nearly robbed her of words.
After casting her nephew a sharp glare, the Marchioness turned to Felice with a radiant smile, promising another meeting before climbing into the carriage.
“Next time, I’ll invite you to my estate, Miss Felice. We’ll have tea together—without the Baron. That would be quite lovely, wouldn’t it?”
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