I Just Wanted to Propose

She had been lucky. That was how Lionette assessed her early twenties.
Without knowing her place, she had proposed a contract marriage to a young grand duke coveted by all of society, and spent three years enjoying the position of a grand duchess.

“My lady, the wind is cold.”
“……Shall we go in?”
“No. I was asking whether I could hold your hand.”

Even so, this fake husband treated her so tenderly, like he would place himself in her hands if she let herself want him.

“I’ll be going to Quinton.”

In the end, on the day that marked three years since their wedding, Lionette resolved to confess to her husband.
That she wanted to be his real wife now, not just one bound to him by contract.

“Um, Dante.”
“Yes, Lionette.”
“I haven’t been feeling well lately…… I thought I might go to the seaside to recover.”

So she had only put a little distance between them to prepare a modest proposal.
But Dante Siegfried, that man….

“Wh, where is…….”
“The basement. Where only you and I have a key.”
“……Why?”
“Why? We’ve fulfilled the three years we agreed on, so are you planning to ask for a divorce now?”
“Dante, I, I never said anything like…….”
“You must remain a Siegfried until you die, my lady.”

Just what, just what kind of misunderstanding did he have?