Who gets married for that reason? - Chapter 12
The truth was, that was not the end of what she had “heard” about the wedding.
The marquis had declared a staggering level of financial support without hesitation, yet he maintained an attitude of complete disinterest in the details, leaving them entirely to others.
Thus, the butler and the head maid, having long given up on him, had recently taken to quietly approaching Lydia instead, peppering her with questions about the wedding’s arrangements.
At last, weary of their relentless inquiries, Lydia sought out Illian.
“They keep asking me how the wedding should be arranged, but I have no idea!”
“Then just tell them you don’t know. Just make everything the best it can be.”
“What kind of answer is that? It’s so thoughtless and careless!”
He, who spent nearly half the day absent from the estate, merely dismissed the matter with nonchalance.
Indeed, she could choose anything at random, but even that had its limits.
“You may end up seeing them more often than me. Take this chance to get along. Especially the butler—he’s been with me since I was a child.”
No matter how much Lydia protested for him to take some responsibility, his response remained utterly indifferent.
What flowers should adorn the wedding hall? What kind of dress did she desire? No matter the request, the seamstress was determined to complete it on time, no matter the effort.
Before her stood people brimming with enthusiasm, waiting only for her command. Yet, Lydia found herself utterly at a loss for words.
The mansion had gone too long without a proper ball, and they saw this wedding as a chance to restore its vibrancy. Their ambition was so grand that it even left Lydia somewhat uneasy.
She could not shake the feeling that this supposedly simple contract marriage was becoming something far larger than she had anticipated.
Lady Schunet, the viscountess, remained blissfully unaware of Lydia’s inner turmoil as she inquired cheerfully,
“By the way, I heard that Their Majesties will be attending the wedding. Is that true?”
“Yes, so I’ve heard.”
Lydia, forcing a smile, repeated what she had overheard in passing.
“My, what an incredible honor! This will be a wedding to rival even those of the royal family.”
Whether it was just Lady Schunet or all nobility who felt this way, Lydia could not be sure, but the woman’s admiration for the royal family was unmistakable.
She frequently boasted of her acquaintance with the queen, though in reality, it seemed to amount to nothing more than exchanging a few words during occasional royal tea parties.
—
“Do not hold the teacup like that; relax your grip. Just enough to keep from dropping it.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, that’s correct. You are a fast learner, truly admirable.”
Etiquette lessons were hardly entertaining, but Lydia was diligent in all fields of study.
“It is only thanks to your excellent instruction, Viscountess.”
“Ahem. Well, I am an exceptional teacher. Among my students, one was married last year…”
Lydia had already spent the past few days carefully observing Lady Schunet.
The woman’s temperament was easy enough to discern—flatter her just a little, and she would bask in delight.
Far simpler to understand than the marquess, whose thoughts and emotions were always an enigma.
—
“Viscountess Schunet, now that today’s lesson is over, may I borrow my fiancée for a moment?”
As if sensing that she had been on Lydia’s mind, Illian Esteban himself entered, his dazzling golden hair catching the light.
By now, the act of taking Lydia’s hand had become second nature to him.
She could hardly remember why she had been so hesitant at first—Illian, feigning ignorance, had grown quite accustomed to casually claiming her hand whenever he pleased.
“Oh, Marquess! But of course.”
Viscountess Schunet, her face flushing, lifted her fan to partially conceal herself, though her eyes remained locked onto the marquess.
“Then, excuse us.”
Illian, indifferent to her admiring gaze, simply nodded with perfunctory politeness and led Lydia away.
It was only then that she noticed something off—despite his usual impassive demeanor, there was a strange tension in the way he carried himself.
“Is something the matter?”
As soon as they stepped away, Lydia voiced her concern. Illian slowed his pace for a brief moment, his eyes flickering toward her before turning back ahead.
“No. It’s nothing.”
His curt response left no room for further questioning.
Feeling the awkward air settle between them, Lydia grasped for another topic of conversation.
Suddenly, she recalled something from her earlier talk with Viscountess Schunet.
“Marquess, I heard that high-ranking nobles usually meet Their Majesties before their weddings.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
His swift, decisive response left no room for argument.
Yet Lydia had noticed the finely crafted letters arriving every morning during their shared breakfasts—letters he never even bothered to open before waving them away dismissively.
“I don’t think that’s true. Those luxurious envelopes you ignore every day—they’re invitations from the palace, aren’t they?”
Illian did not deny it. Instead, he simply remarked,
“Your perceptiveness is commendable.”
Feeling a growing certainty, Lydia pressed on before he could change the subject.
“Besides that, I was also told that I should host a gathering to properly introduce myself to the esteemed ladies of the nobility.”
“The viscountess has been filling your head with nonsense, I see. I told her to teach you etiquette, not meddle in affairs that don’t concern her.”
“I’m not ungrateful, you know. I live comfortably in this estate, and I wouldn’t want to bring you any trouble.”
“No matter what you do, nothing you do alone could tarnish the Esteban name.”
The blunt remark stung. Lydia felt a pang of injustice.
If her etiquette lessons were for nothing, wasn’t she at least expected to play the part of the marquess’s wife in public?
“The contract states it clearly—you are granted the title but bear no obligations. It is a status given only for necessity.”
“I know that, but…”
“Did the viscountess fill your head with foolish ambitions?”
His words were sharp, tinged with reproach. Lydia was taken aback.
“She merely said that building connections with the royal family and solidifying my position would be beneficial.”
“Lydia, your only duty is to break the curse. Nothing more.”
Illian knew Lydia was no opportunist.
That was precisely why he had shut out all contact from other noble houses, ensuring she remained unbothered by the scheming socialites.
Even now, his butler had strict orders to discard any messages or invitations directed at her.
Lydia, oblivious to his quiet protection, merely felt disheartened.
“You don’t have to say it like that. I understand my place perfectly well.”
Illian ran a frustrated hand through his golden locks, suppressing his irritation.
Not at Lydia, but at something—or rather, someone—else.
‘Madeline Ines. So she insists on being a nuisance to the very end.’
His so-called “mother” had finally caught wind of his marriage and announced her intention to visit.
Her letter, filled with righteous indignation over learning of the wedding through others, had been burned the moment he read it.
Yet even flames could not erase his lingering distaste.
Suppressing a sigh, Illian softened his tone.
“The royal archive visit will have to be postponed.”
That was the real reason he had summoned Lydia today.
Somewhere between his growing vexation with the queen’s interference and the unwanted visit from a woman who had long ceased to be part of his life, Illian was left standing in the midst of a storm.
And for once, he was uncertain where his anger truly belonged.
“Forget about the king and queen. I’ll handle it.”
“Marquis…”
Before she could say more, he let go of her hand and strode away.