Chapter 16

Feeling an inexplicable unease, Catherine went straight to her bedroom. She couldn’t shake the memory of the fleeting gaze she had encountered. Though she hadn’t seen it clearly, it lingered in her mind for reasons she couldn’t explain.

Today, Henry was later than usual. Catherine, who had been waiting for him all day, sighed in relief when she saw Henry and the knight order arrive through the window.

Henry, too, seemed concerned about Richelle. As soon as he arrived at the castle, he asked for Catherine. Marina, with her usual calm demeanor, informed him that Catherine was in the bedroom. Without even changing his clothes, Henry climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

“Cathy.”

He occasionally called her Cathy. Opening the door, Henry looked around for Catherine and quickly moved toward her when he spotted her standing by the window.

Cathy.

Whenever Henry called her Cathy, Catherine was reminded of the nursemaid who had raised her as a child. In the ducal house, where everyone moved solely for her grandfather, the nursemaid was the only one who genuinely cared for Catherine.

Like a friend, and sometimes like a parent, the nursemaid took care of her. Catherine opened her heart to the nursemaid in a way she couldn’t with anyone else. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the nursemaid was the reason Catherine had been able to endure the Duke’s abuse.

“You’re late.”

She wanted to say she was glad to see him. But Catherine, unaccustomed to expressing her true feelings, greeted Henry with a curt tone that didn’t reflect her heart. She had thought about and missed him all day, yet all she managed to say was, “You’re late.” Catherine wanted to slap herself for it.

“I had some things to check, so it took longer than expected.”

Henry, slightly embarrassed by Catherine’s cold demeanor, scratched his head. He hadn’t expected an enthusiastic welcome, but her reaction was colder than he’d anticipated.

“I’ll prepare your bathwater.”

Though she was glad to see Henry, Catherine also harbored resentment toward him for leaving her to endure Richelle’s verbal abuse. She knew it wasn’t Henry’s fault. The hurtful words Richelle had spoken were entirely Richelle’s doing. Catherine understood this in her head, but her heart wouldn’t follow. The emotional wounds she struggled to bear alone seemed to be searching for a target to lash out at.

Conflicting emotions swirled within Catherine’s chest.

“What’s wrong?”

Henry immediately sensed that something was off about Catherine. His sharp gaze scanned her face as he stepped closer. Gripping her shoulders, Henry asked, 

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

Catherine averted her gaze, pushing Henry’s hands away.

“…What happened to your hand?”

Henry had noticed the wound on her palm. Catherine quickly lowered her hand, which had been pushing him away.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“I asked what happened to your hand.”

But Henry was faster. He grabbed her hand before she could lower it completely and forced her fingers open.

“It’s clearly not ‘nothing.’”

One, two, three, four.

Henry’s face darkened as he swiftly examined the wounds on her palm.

Henry was planning to leave for the capital the next day to report the border patrol findings to the King. Even moving as quickly as possible, the journey would take at least three days. He couldn’t leave Catherine alone in the castle, unaware of what might have happened, for such a long time.

“…Was this Richelle’s doing?”

Catherine hesitated to answer. While it was true that Richelle had caused her palm to end up in such a state, Richelle hadn’t directly inflicted the wounds. For that reason, Catherine held her tongue.

***

On the first night after arriving at the castle, Richelle had relentlessly questioned Marina about Catherine.

When Werner’s will was first revealed, Richelle hadn’t been too concerned. While it had been galling that the title had passed to Henry, she knew that without him, the Leonard family would have been forced to surrender their title and castle to the kingdom. Henry’s assertion that she should be grateful for continuing the family line wasn’t entirely wrong. She just didn’t want to admit it.

The will stated that Henry would inherit all of the Leonard family’s assets only if he fathered an heir before his 25th birthday. Knowing Henry’s indifference toward women, Richelle had believed that all she had to do was wait patiently, and the family’s assets would eventually fall into her hands.

But then, out of nowhere, Henry got married. Without telling anyone.

Richelle wanted to see for herself what kind of woman dared to covet the position of Marchioness. She intended to make it abundantly clear to this presumptuous woman that the Leonard family’s wealth should rightfully be hers. After all, Henry was only a half-heir, carrying just half the Leonard bloodline.

Thus, Richelle had shown up unannounced at Leonard Castle, a place she hadn’t visited since Werner’s death. She had expected the castle to be in disarray without her presence as its mistress, but to her surprise, it was impeccably maintained. Though she knew this was thanks to Marina’s diligence, even that irritated her. Richelle wanted to confirm that she had been an indispensable presence in Leonard Castle.

Her last memory of Henry was of him wasting away in debauchery after Werner’s death. Expecting to see the same disheveled figure, Richelle was taken aback to find that Henry had become a respectable knight. Once an inexperienced youth who swung his sword recklessly, he now appeared to be a nobleman who had matured through hardship.

The more Richelle recognized Henry’s admirable qualities, the more consumed she became by jealousy. She blamed Henry for her son Wiggins, the eldest, receiving no recognition from the family.

No matter how capable Henry might be, he was still the son of a lowly dancer. Half of his blood was common. Richelle couldn’t stand the idea of losing the Leonard family, which she had worked so hard to build, to someone like him. Having waited patiently for Henry’s 25th birthday, Richelle decided she could no longer sit idly by. If she could handle the cunning and sly Henry, his wife would be no match for her. She assumed Henry had hastily married any woman just to produce an heir.

But upon meeting her, Richelle realized that Henry’s wife was neither lowly nor foolish. After exchanging only a few words, Richelle could tell that Catherine wasn’t an easy target. Moreover, the Annette Ducal House wielded power second only to the royal family. Catherine could have chosen a much more advantageous marriage, so why had she chosen Henry?

“Marina.”

“Yes, Madame Richelle.”

“Bring her in.”

After confirming that Henry had left, Richelle instructed Marina to summon Catherine to her room. When the sound of Catherine’s arrival reached her, Marina opened the door. Though it was obvious that Richelle had called for Catherine as soon as Henry left, she didn’t care. The servants would probably gossip about how Richelle, who wasn’t even Henry’s biological mother, was trying to act like a mother-in-law to Catherine. Talking behind their superiors’ backs was their favorite pastime, after all.

As the door opened, Catherine appeared. Richelle, seated with her legs crossed, scrutinized Catherine with a disapproving expression.

She looks like a doll.

From the moment she first saw Catherine, Richelle had disliked her. Perhaps it was because she belonged to Henry, but it was also because Catherine’s beauty was far greater than she had expected.

Catherine’s luxurious golden hair cascaded over her shoulders. Noblewomen spared no expense to make their hair appear fuller, and Richelle was no exception. Lustrous, voluminous hair was a symbol of wealth, and Richelle envied Catherine’s naturally beautiful curls.

“You summoned me?”

“Close the door, Marina.”

“Yes, Madame Richelle.”

Ignoring Catherine’s words, Richelle gave Marina an order. The door closed behind Catherine, leaving only the three of them—Richelle, Catherine, and Marina—in the room.

“Have a seat.”

Richelle gestured toward the chair across from her with a slight nod. Catherine bowed her head lightly and obediently took the seat Richelle indicated.

“Bring some water.”

As soon as Catherine sat down, Richelle ordered Marina to fetch water. Of all the stories Marina had told her late into the night, what stood out most to Richelle was the incident where Catherine had ordered Marina to pick up a broken glass.

She looks so innocent, but she’s quite bold.

Richelle thought.

Marina poured water into a glass and brought it to Richelle. Taking the glass, Richelle sipped the water and smiled at Catherine.

Up until that moment, Catherine had been watching Richelle with an expressionless face.

Knowing what was coming, Marina stood far away from them.

“Do you know how long Marina has lived in this castle?”

“I heard it’s been about 20 years.”

“Yes, 20 years. That’s much longer than the time you’ve been here, which hasn’t even been a month.”

What’s she trying to say? 

Catherine blinked, puzzled by Richelle’s oddly belittling tone. Having rarely socialized with other women, Catherine was unfamiliar with this kind of subtle power play.

“Even though she’s lived here for so long, she’s still beneath you. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then what about me?”

Catherine frowned. She had no idea why Richelle had suddenly shifted the conversation from Marina to herself.

“I’ve lived here even longer than Marina. Am I above you or below you?”

For a noblewoman who had spent decades as a Marchioness, her words were shockingly childish.

“Former Marchioness, you are also my mother.”

Richelle rose from her seat, still holding the glass. The water inside rippled.

“Is that so?”

As if smiling, Richelle suddenly dropped the glass. It shattered on the floor.

Glass shards and droplets of water scattered near where Catherine was sitting.

“Then pick it up.”

Richelle ordered Catherine to pick up the broken glass shards.

Just as Catherine had once done to Marina.