Chapter 1 – Forgive Me My Trespasses

Marianne, waking alone at dawn, suddenly became aware of the empty place beside her husband. At once, an emotion difficult to describe seeped into her chest. It was not longing or sorrow of that sort. Rather, it was closer to the dazed feeling one had upon receiving an unexpected gift.

Her husband had expected that he would either die bravely in battle while fighting the enemy, or meet his death on a bed some twenty years later, surrounded by family and close friends.

They say life is impossible to foresee even an inch ahead, but he likely never knew that he would die in an accident at a hunting ground at fifty-one. Without even seeing the long-desired legitimate heir of House Loire reach adulthood.

Thus death was fair to everyone.

Though she had not gotten along very well with her husband while he was alive, she could not deny that he had been her protector.

They had one daughter and one son, and Marcel, the son who would inherit the Earldom, was still only eight years old. If Marcel were to die without leaving descendants, the title would pass to Elio, her husband’s younger brother.

Whether her husband’s death would prove to be fortune or misfortune depended on how she conducted herself from here on. Feeling the heavy responsibility of being the mistress of the family, Marianne rose from bed.

After neatly making herself presentable, she entered the small chapel attached to the castle.

Father Gabriel was waiting for Marianne inside the confessional. Making the sign of the cross, Marianne knelt inside the small wooden box-like space. Beyond the lattice window, the priest’s silhouette appeared dimly.

To be saved by God, one had to confess one’s sins in full, but Marianne could never be completely honest. She could not bring herself to reveal that she was, however faintly, glad of her husband’s death, nor that she held in her heart a desire that would earn her the pointing fingers of all people. They were dreadful feelings, the sort a person possessed by a demon might have.

Thus, as always, the confession that began with formal greetings and blessings proceeded in a merely ceremonial manner.

“…I repent for having been too harsh with the servants despite it being only a trivial mistake. Just as He forgave us sinners, I know I ought to be more merciful to those beneath me, yet I failed to act accordingly.”

“It seems your husband’s death has left your nerves greatly frayed. Worry and anxiety about the future have, in this way….”

Before the priest could even finish speaking, the door of the confessional suddenly flew open. Bright light poured into the dim space.

“Excuse me.”

Before anyone could stop him, the rude intruder boldly stepped inside the confessional. Once he shut the door behind him, the already cramped place felt ready to burst.

“The Countess is making her confession. Do not interfere and leave at once!”

Ignoring the priest’s rebuke, he made the sign of the cross and knelt down. The body that brushed against his solid shoulder was pushed slightly against the wall of the confessional. A masculine scent brushed the tip of her nose. Falling neatly beneath his clean-shaven jaw, blond hair half covered his face.

“My sin is far too great for me to wait my turn. If I do not confess it right now, God will be angered.”

His firm voice rang low. It was a voice that made the listener’s knees weaken.

Recognizing the owner of that voice, the priest addressed him in a notably gentler manner.

“Sir Claude, I understand your feelings, but confession must take place in secrecy. Please wait your turn outside.”

“This is something Countess Marianne may hear. In fact, I would be glad if she listened carefully.”

It was the first time that a man as courteous and chivalrous as he was behaving so forcefully, and no one knew how to respond. Before permission could even be given, he began his confession on his own.

“I have held one woman in my heart for a very long time. That compassionate and virtuous lady is His most faithful servant and a person whose character could serve as an example to others. She is someone far too precious for me, so all I could do was watch her from afar.”

Pale sky-blue eyes, difficult to read, turned toward Marianne. Under that gaze, her chest began to ache tightly.

“I was taught that desiring someone I could not have was a sin. But love is like a cough, and no matter how I tried to suppress it, I could not.”

Did he realize what he was saying? His voice, calmly revealing the truth of his heart, was painfully pleasant to hear, but Marianne had to stop Claude from saying any more. She quietly gripped the back of his hand. Claude seemed to pause as if feeling that warmth, yet in the end he did not stop his confession.

“I want to hold that lady in my arms and kiss her beautiful lips. Until her throat grows hoarse from calling my name, I want to desire her, and desire her still more. I want to mark my very existence upon her body in every way, so that she will look only at me. Such low and shameful urges torment me at every moment. It hurts so much that it seems it would be better to commit the sin and fall into the fires of hell.”

Though Claude had not revealed the identity of the woman, it was clear whom he meant. Marianne’s cheeks flushed red in an instant. She only hoped no one would notice the change, hidden as it was by the darkness.

“Ahem, to feel l*st toward a beautiful woman is only natural for a man. It is entirely understandable to feel that way.”

Cold sweat running down his back, the priest tried to smooth over the situation. Marianne was overtaken by fear and shame, wondering whether Father Gabriel even understood what he was saying. She no longer felt able to sit through this absurd conversation. As she tried to rise, Claude caught her wrist.

“Father, would you step away for a moment? I would like to speak quietly with the Countess, so please make sure no one can approach.”

“Ah, understood.”

Even though it was more of an order than a request, Father Gabriel obediently left the confessional. She only had a moment to think how strange that was before the hand clasping her shoulder brought her thoughts to a sudden halt.

In the darkness, where it was hard to see clearly, every sense in her body sharpened. His subtly uneven breathing and the warmth of his skin felt vividly clear. She was afraid he would notice her emotional agitation. It was dangerous to remain alone with him like this.

If he wanted her, then even knowing it must not happen, she would not be able to refuse.

Holding down her pounding heart, she looked up at him.

“Sir Claude, what is it you mean to say?”

“Your husband, I killed him.”

His words flowed into her mind a beat too late. Claude had killed Beaumont. That could not be true. Her husband had definitely died in an accident. She could not understand what Claude intended by saying such a thing.

“Are you very shocked? I thought you might have guessed a little.”

In the darkness, she could faintly make out Claude’s lips curving upward. He was restless like a child waiting to be praised. The way he barely held back his exhilaration felt dangerously discordant.

“That joke is… cruel. I saw my husband’s body with my own eyes. Other than the wounds torn by claws and teeth, there was nowhere any sign of a sword wound. More than that, was not the one who witnessed his death from the closest place you, Sir Claude?”

When autumn came, her husband had gone hunting in the forest of the territory with the knights under his command. Even after returning from the campaign with a limp in his left leg, the hunt remained a grand annual event he never failed to hold.

It was meant to display that his body was still sound and to strengthen his bond with his vassals.

To bring down fine game, one had to accept injuries great and small, just as in battle. But her husband, by ill luck, had lost his life. Or so she had believed.

“Even if it has been caught in a trap, it is not easy to kill a full-grown bear with a single thr*st. All the more so if one has dismounted from the saddle and is standing on an inconvenient leg….”

Laughter was thick in Claude’s voice. Her husband had been extremely wary of exposing his disability before others, so he rarely dismounted in public. That was why it had been hard to believe he had died fighting the bear himself with a spear in hand.

“As you know, Earl Beaumont was the sort of man who would not even hesitate to leap from a cliff in order to prove his own valor. Foolishly, the Earl never accepted that his body was no longer what it had once been. In the end, it was his pride that brought about his death, and I merely gave him a slight push from behind.”

It would have been easy for Claude to provoke her deeply insecure husband with words and drive him into danger.