Chapter 44
Lilien was the very last person in Baltan to learn the reason behind Baron and Baroness Bercy’s divorce. It was hardly surprising, since she knew almost no one in high society.
“Wait, you mean you can get divorced in the Klatt Empire for that reason?”
What on earth could the reason be?
Although the ladies chattering nearby were all quite friendly to her, none would ever tell an unmarried girl like Lilien the details if she asked directly. For some reason, everyone still treated her as a child—and, as they saw it, a child was better off not knowing about such things.
“So it’s not just a rumor? I honestly thought it was just a bunch of bored people spreading insane gossip everywhere!”
“Does that mean Baron Bercy is really…?”
Mrs. Laurent, with her broad brow, glanced around as nervously as a herbivore on the lookout for predators. Lilien, quick as a rabbit, darted behind a tree.
Seeing no one was around, Madame Laurent lowered her voice:
“Is he… impotent?”
Lilien almost stopped breathing.
It seemed that, the more conservative the culture became regarding s*x, the more risqué and frank the noblewomen’s gossip turned. Their language was anything but shy.
“Oh, not impotent! Not exactly. He just, well… isn’t very impressive in bed. That’s not the same thing.”
“Oh my, poor woman. No wonder she’s frustrated.”
Was a woman’s s****l frustration really enough to justify a divorce?
Lilien swallowed hard. In truth, though she had no experience, she had a vague idea of what that desire was.
Sometimes the more risqué stories written by male authors included suggestive illustrations. Lilien would squint at those pictures, analyzing every detail. Whenever she did, she’d feel a strange fluttering in her lower belly.
She’d noticed she went through a phase about once a month where she’d feel an inexplicable longing—even when looking at so-called ‘sacred nudes’ in paintings, her imagination would wander into places she considered a bit improper.
Desire for reproduction is universal among all creatures, but for rational beings—especially women—pleasure only comes during the act itself, never before. Women rarely, if ever, feel desire first.
That’s what she’d once read. It made her think she must be a real oddity. But… maybe not.
“I just can’t believe something like that could be grounds for divorce.”
Muttered Mrs. Linda, who wore a stiff high-collared dress and fanned herself restlessly. As opinions started to differ, everyone turned to Mrs. Ashton, waiting for her verdict like jurors in a trial.
Enjoying the attention, Mrs. Ashton gently took the baroness’s side.
“…I don’t think ‘bedroom matters’ are a small thing at all.”
There is no connection between marital happiness and what happens in the bedroom. That was a line from Ashburn’s novel, something Lilien had treated almost as sacred truth.
Now, a crack appeared in that belief.
Two women with nearly the same name—no, two people—were giving opposite opinions. Maybe… Ashburn wasn’t a woman after all.
Faced with the messy reality of love and marriage, Lilien felt utterly confused.
* * *
As dusk deepened into violet inside the high walls of Baltar Palace, a gentle breeze still swept through the gardens, making the wildflowers nod.
The Grand Duchess’s frown stood in sharp contrast to the lovely view beyond her window. Every time Cairn spoke, she sighed deeply—he was the most aloof and unyielding figure in the palace.
“So, in the end, you’re just going to do as you please, again?”
“Yes, Mother.”
The famous stubbornness of the Headingtons and the intractable pride of the Etienne line from the Kingdom of Cirque were a terrible combination. The result was Cairn.
While he could be stubborn, Cairn was also logical enough to yield when someone presented him with a solid argument. Of course, that was rare—his choices and reasoning were usually so sound that he only seemed stubborn on the surface.
In particular, he usually handled his mother’s words with surprising flexibility.
But when it came to certain things, his Etienne Headington roots could be relentless.
Tonight, logic didn’t matter to Cairn, nor did he feel he needed it. And when he got like this, he would push his point to the end, regardless of whether his argument had holes.
“I’m going to marry Miss de Bermore. Please send a letter to her father.”
Tonight, he’d reached his limit.
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