9.
The ducal study of House Bayern.
Ash gazed down with an icy stare at the shards of glass, carefully sealed within a small box.
“…So my dear uncle truly intended to cross a river from which there is no return.”
He had anticipated that sooner or later his uncle would approach that woman.
If a mere count, weak in both influence and wealth compared to himself, wished to secure certain victory, he would have to clutch at the lifeline of the Chief Justice.
But to think he would resort to an aphrodisiac…
What Ash despised—what he loathed more than anything—was poison.
Few knew the truth, but it was poison that had ravaged his half-brother’s body and driven him to an early grave.
And an aphrodisiac, too, was not so different-a drug that could just as easily ruin a life.
Count Athelott had crossed the line using the very method Ash abhorred most.
One day, the count would bear the full weight of that choice.
What surprised him, however, was this—he had been certain she would seize the count’s hand, yet she had rejected the proposal without hesitation, cutting it down cold.
“I may have disgraced myself more than anyone, but never—not once—have I thought of harming my husband with such a contemptible drug or framing him with perjury.”
It was…impressive.
For a fleeting moment, he almost believed she might be a woman of upright integrity, incorruptible in spirit.
But then—how could someone who claimed she had no thought of deceit have entered into marriage through coercion?
A contradiction, plain and glaring.
“You two are merely playing a cheap little game.” Ash remarked with a bitter sneer.
Melanie hesitated, uncertain whether to speak.
Her master despised needless commentary, and offering it now would only invite his displeasure.
Yet…
“Forgive my boldness, Your Grace, but it did not feel like a staged performance.”
She, after all, had clashed with Nina more than anyone else in this household during the past two years.
That was why she knew—the scene earlier had not been staged.
Her lady’s anger had been genuine.
The cold gleam in her eyes, the stern authority in her voice as she cut down Count Aslot—those were not the words or gestures of a woman merely acting.
If Nina had truly been capable of such calculated performance, she would never have allowed her honor to be dragged through the mud nor made enemies on all sides.
So why?
Why had someone who could show such dignity and clarity of judgment lived until now with such reckless folly?
Melanie had already felt it once before—when her lady left the maids’ punishment in her hands.
Something in the duchess seemed…changed.
“Yes.
As you say, there was no time to conspire.
If they had truly been in league, they would never have held such a conversation within these walls.”
“Then why…?”
“Don’t you find it a little too blatant?”
“Pardon?”
Ash’s gaze hardened as he studied Melanie, who, as though bewitched, seemed to be defending Nina.
“As for Count Aslot—he’s always been a blundering fool, so that much I can dismiss.
But doesn’t it strike you as strange that the one suddenly posing as my ally is her?”
“……”
“I will admit—it was impressive.”
Yet, a woman who had been so desperate to see him ruined now showing a change of heart?
To Ash, it was nothing but unsettling—deeply suspect.
When brute force had failed her, she had tried demanding divorce.
When that, too, availed her nothing, she now paraded her defiance of Count Aslot, as though to win his trust.
Even if her wish for divorce were sincere, what assurance was there that she no longer bore him any malice?
No—that’s not it.
If anything, she has every reason to hold a grudge.
Ash brushed his lower lip with a perfectly neat fingertip before asking,
“What is she doing now?”
“Since her meeting with Count Aslot this morning, she has remained in her chambers.”
“She’s said nothing else?”
“No, my lord.”
“Keep watch on her, for the time being.”
Whether this was all a performance…
or whether there had truly been some change of heart…
time would tell.
With her fiery temper, she could never hide her true feelings for long.
***
Two days later.
After shutting herself away in her room all day, waiting for her husband’s reaction, Nina muttered with a thoughtful frown,
“Marsha… my husband—he does live in the same house as me, doesn’t he?”
“Of course he does.”
“Then why is there no reaction?
Don’t tell me he never even heard that I met with Count Aslot?”
She had expected her husband to respond one way or another if she met the Count inside their own estate.
Yet there had been nothing but silence.
If only I could hurry up and wrap up this divorce talk…
Biting at her lips in anxious frustration, Nina’s eyes flickered with impatience.
“Should I try to find out?” Marsha asked carefully.
“…No.”
Nina shook her head.
The lack of any reaction could only mean two things-either he still had no desire to speak with her, or he was simply watching her from the shadows.
And if I start snooping around in that situation, he’ll just decide I’m being sly again.
Better to confront him head-on than invite another misunderstanding.
“Don’t bother digging around.
Just tell him I’d like him to spare me a little time.”
Marsha, who still remembered the duke’s threat of dismissal, asked nervously,
“He said if I showed up one more time, I’d be fired… I won’t really lose my job, will I?”
“…That won’t happen.
But even if it does, I’ll take responsibility somehow—so don’t worry.”
This wasn’t just any conversation—it was about his nephew.
If he had even a shred of sense, he wouldn’t dismiss Marsha over it.
And if he did, well…
Nina would simply throw herself down in front of his office and stage a protest.
What difference would one more humiliating memory make?
“All right, then.
I’ll trust you, milady, and go,”
Marsha said, leaving with a resolute look.
Once she was gone, Nina straightened her clothes and let out a slow breath.
“Phew…”
This is a lucky chance.
I have to finish the conversation properly this time.
Who knows when I’ll get another one.
The absurdity of it struck her again—needing a formal pretext just to speak with her own husband, a man she lived under the same roof with.
But she reminded herself it was all part of her karma.
Finding herself in the exact same predicament twice over was maddening, but in the end, that was her burden to carry.
No matter how unfair it felt, the world wouldn’t stop to sympathize with her.
Come on.
Stay strong.
Resolved, she waited for Marsha to return.
It wasn’t long before her maid came back with the news she’d been hoping for.
“Milady, His Grace asks that you come to his study at once.”
The fact that he had summoned her to the study rather than the conservatory suggested he had no intention of speaking with her for long.
So be it.
Sharing even a single cup of tea with him?
She no longer dared to hope for that.
Nina checked her reflection in the mirror.
The indigestion had passed, but after four days of suffering she still looked oddly pale and drawn.
For a moment she considered using makeup to bring some color back into her cheeks—yet perhaps going as she was would be wiser.
She might even earn a sliver of sympathy.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
“Stay strong, milady!”
Marsha replied, her voice full of encouragement.
Leaving her maid’s words behind her, Nina made her way toward the study.
Creaaak.
“Please, go in.”
The attendant’s eyes gleamed with thinly veiled curiosity, but his manners remained properly respectful.
Nina gave a brief nod and stepped inside.
Her husband sat before the sofa, papers in hand.
As expected, there was no tea to wet a dry throat—no gesture of courtesy at all.
Without so much as glancing at her, he kept his gaze fixed on the documents and spoke.
“I hear you have something to say.
What is it?”
…So be it.
Let’s end this quickly and get it over with.
Nina drew in a faint breath, then seated herself opposite him and opened her mouth.
“I don’t know if word has reached you, but the day before yesterday your uncle came to see me.
Thanks to that, I now understand why you were so angry that day.”
“……”
Swish.
All the while keeping that businesslike expression, he finally lifted his head and crossed one leg over the other.
His posture radiated arrogance—let’s hear what you’ve got to say.
“He wanted me to submit a statement declaring you unfit as Ian’s guardian, so that he could put his own son forward instead.
Of course, I refused.”
His eyes sank into a languid half-lidded gaze, his voice dropping low.
“And your point is?”
“…If the only reason you’re hesitating about divorce is because of your uncle, then I’ll put it in writing.
I’ll even have it notarized by your lawyer-that I will do everything in my power to help you retain your guardianship.
That I will never obstruct your purpose.”
There was only one way to win his consent to divorce—
to guarantee that he achieved the goal binding him to this marriage.
I’ve turned over a new leaf.
So please, just say yes.
You hate living with me as much as I do, don’t you?
Right?
Nina waited with desperate eyes for his reply, only for Ash to let out a hollow laugh.
“A written pledge?”
…What?
Why that reaction again?
As she frantically racked her brain for what she might have missed, his languid voice slipped into her ears.