“I wonder if they can even hold a conversation, given the difference in intellectual level.”

The remaining men began chiming in one by one with remarks about Frederic’s in-laws. Frederic reached into his pocket for a fresh cigarette. This time, though, he didn’t call for the attendant to bring a light. He intended to strike the match himself. Throughout all of it, Frederic said nothing, and the moment he fell silent, everyone else fell quiet at once, as though by agreement. It was a silence with weight behind it.

“……Graham and Flynn’s every move has been the talk of the town lately. Apparently whenever two or more people get together, they’re all worked up gossiping about you and your wife.”

Reading irritation in Frederic’s silence, one of the men smoothly changed the subject. He was the sharpest one in the group.

“I hear the editors of the daily papers are in fierce competition with each other. All racing to be the first to report on the Duke and Duchess Graham’s daily life.”

“They say if you put Graham or Flynn in the headline and run it as an exclusive, it sells out without fail.”

“The Empire’s finest-looking man and woman coming together. Of course the public is ravenous.”

“So how does it feel to be the hero of the romance of the century, Duke Graham?”

Even at someone’s sly little joke, Frederic still said nothing. He simply exhaled a slow stream of white smoke.

“Was it a few days ago? Did you see the evening edition of the Oslande Daily? There was an editorial about the Graham couple’s proposal.”

“A proposal. The day that issue came out, the Oslande Daily must have hit record sales.”

“Oh! I heard about it and went looking for a copy afterward, but it was sold out before I could find one! Well, since we’ve brought it up, let’s hear it straight from the man himself. How was it? The proposal?”

“The proposal?”

Frederic had been focused entirely on exhaling his white smoke, but he shot back sharply at that, the way a man reacts to words he was never meant to hear.

“The proposal.”

He repeated the word twice, his eyes twisting with displeasure.

‘I heard that Your Grace has been facing considerable difficulties because of debt.’

A month ago, Margie Flynn had come to the Graham ducal residence herself.

‘All you need to do is sign on the very last page, and every last penny of the Graham family’s debt will be gone. Because that debt becomes the property of this Margie Flynn.’

The property of Margie Flynn. She had declared those bold words with the most impish expression.

‘That’s right. I’m proposing to Your Grace right now!’

Frederic had signed on the spot, and the moment Margie paid off the Graham family’s debt, their marriage proceeded at a breathtaking pace.

“……It was the worst proposal of my life.”

Regret and bitterness ran through the weight of his murmured words.

“Yes. I’m certain of it. Out of everything in my entire life……”

Worse than a childhood spent losing his mother and being left to neglect under a stepmother’s hand. Worse than the moment of filial failure when his own military service kept him from his father’s side at the end. Worse than the irresponsible hundreds of millions in debt that father had left behind……

“That proposal was the worst of it.”

My proposal to Frederic…… was the worst experience of his life……?

She had always known, far too well, that her husband didn’t love her. His dry eyes and sharpened manner made his feelings toward her far too plain. Anyone who failed to see that would have to be a complete fool.

Even so, she had never once begged for his love. She had told herself that his coldness would resolve itself naturally with time, and that while love might feel similar from one person to the next, its shape differed for everyone, so it was all right if the form of love her husband would eventually give her turned out to be a little unusual. She was someone with no romantic experience whatsoever, a lovesick girl who substituted the affairs of fictional characters for her own, reading er*tic novels to satisfy a longing she had never lived. And yet she understood love better than anyone.

A son who looks like Frederic, a daughter who looks like me. Or the other way around would be just as wonderful. I want as many children as possible. To raise the children I love in material abundance and pass down the sacred name of Graham to them. That’s the most intoxicating and perfect romance I can imagine. Of course, all of it depends on Frederic’s agreement and his best efforts (?) on that front……

A passionate relationship where they’d be at each other the moment their eyes met was probably out of reach, and Margie had already let go of that particular desire, knowing it was impossible, even if it was what she wanted most. But she had reasoned that with a sensible family plan, going through pregnancies and births one after another might at least allow them to build a fairly decent partnership as co-parents in raising children. That kind of life wouldn’t be so bad. Building the small warmth and loyalty that only a husband and wife could share, growing old together. That’s its own kind of romance, isn’t it? Margie would comfort herself with thoughts like these while watching her husband’s back as he turned away from her without warmth. She had decided that was the dignity befitting a duchess.

She loved her husband. She loved the grace in him that, even without tenderness, still knew how to consider others. She had firmly believed that if she kept making more effort, she would one day receive his kindness and affection in return……

“If I could, I would undo that day. I want to go back to when she and I were strangers.”

That he had never laid a hand on her was not out of consideration for her, but because he regretted the marriage itself……

Crouched against the garden wall and stealing his words like a thief, Margie felt a hot wave of grief surge up through her throat.

She had lost all reason to be here, and every last drop of will to make any effort for their relationship. So she turned away without looking back.

“I should have been the one to do it. I was foolish enough to miss that. Making her, a woman, be the first to say those words out loud was a humiliation I put her through……”

She walked away before she could hear the genuine remorse that followed in Frederic’s voice.

Margie made herself a promise. When she got home, she would prepare divorce papers. If that was what Frederic wanted, she would sign them. I only ever wanted your happiness, and was even that too much of me to want? If that wanting hurt you, I’m so sorry, Frederic……

Huk……

Tears streamed down both cheeks. She scrubbed at them with the back of her hand, but once the crying started, it refused to stop.

“Awful Frederic. Terrible Frederic. Poor Frederic who doesn’t even know what love is…… Uwaahh!”

She burst into sobs and ran out from between the narrow lanes.

“Whoa whoa whoa……!”

The driver of a car rounding the curve to the right let out a single sharp cry at the sight of Margie lurching out in front of him.

Skreeee!

The sound of tires grinding against the road surface, then a hard stop.

“……!”

The car stopped, mercifully, just before reaching her. A serious accident had been narrowly avoided.

But Margie, too shocked to stay upright, fainted on the spot.

“……Someone’s collapsed over here!”

Her vision going dim, a ringing in her ears.

And then.

“Margie, stay with me!”

Frederic’s face, more disheveled than she had ever seen it, looking down at her and crying out.

“Open your eyes!”

Frederic, worried about me.

“Don’t die!”

A husband who wants me to live.

This must be a dream. It has to be. He would never cry for me.

Even so……