The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 50

“Helen’s sense of reality is gone, and she doesn’t react at all to the sight of others aging, but Count Misura might. Even today, when I saw this portrait, I couldn’t help but think how good the bride and groom would look side by side…”

 

Humphrey looked at Artia.

 

With her dark hair and pink eyes, Artia was no Juliette.

 

Even though he knew that for sure, a strange feeling crept over him.

 

Humphrey spoke his mind.

 

“I don’t want to see a fake wedding, no matter how fake, with you standing there with an unworthy man.”

 

“……!”

 

Artia’s eyes widened at the unexpected remark.

 

The tips of his ears reddened slightly, and Humphrey coughed, hmmm, and continued.

 

“Anyway, because of this, we have been looking for a replacement. A man who resembles the Count of Missoula of twenty years ago.”

 

He added.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything unpleasant to you, not even a speck of dust. The false groom will merely stand meekly by your side.”

 

Even though it was a financial transaction, it was clear that Humphrey wanted to treat Artia with the utmost consideration.

 

Artia smiled wryly, grateful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After all the hectic preparations, the day before the wedding had finally arrived.

 

The Blührens mansion was buzzing with activity.

 

The night before the wedding, there was a banquet for the bride and groom’s families and guests.

 

One by one, the guests arrived at the mansion.

 

They had been told the story by Humphrey beforehand and were dressed as if they were attending a real wedding.

 

Humphrey and Helen greeted their guests with beaming smiles.

 

“Welcome, everyone.”

 

Helen’s cheerfulness gave the guests mixed feelings, but they couldn’t help but smile.

 

They knew it was the only thing they could do for her.

 

“Thank you for inviting me to be a part of your big day.”

 

“Congratulations, Helen.”

 

Helen, her color completely gone, whispered to Humphrey as she greeted her guests.

 

“I heard there was a sudden mudslide that washed out the road on the way here, so I’m afraid we don’t have many guests.”

 

There was no mudslide. Humphrey had made it up because he didn’t want Helen to think it was strange that there were so few guests.

 

Humphrey replied with his natural virtue.

 

“Still, it’s nice to know that some of them made it through the hard times.”

 

“But… What if Count Missoula can’t make it? It’s a big deal if the groom doesn’t show up.”

 

That won’t happen, because he told the actor who looks like Count Missoula that if he can play the role of the groom well, I will pay him a sum of money he can’t earn even if he works his ass off for a year.

 

The actor keeps his promise and gets the money.

 

Humphrey, who is not allowed to reveal the details, said.

 

“He’ll come when the world ends, not in a landslide, so he can be our daughter’s husband.”

 

Helen smiled, relieved, and looked at Artia.

 

Standing beside the couple, Artia wore a plain white dress made for Eve, her face covered with a dark cotton shawl.

 

She followed the doctrine that a bride should be untainted by worldly blemishes.

 

A ceremony that had seemed so sacred when she married Lloyd now seemed absurd.

 

Besides, it was nice not to have to talk to strangers today.

 

Helen, misunderstanding Artia’s silence, squeezed her daughter’s hand.

 

“Count Missoula will be here soon, don’t worry too much.”

 

Of course Artia wasn’t worried.

 

‘It’s a false groom anyway, and if he doesn’t arrive in time, we can always find a suitable man nearby. Although it won’t be easy to find a handsome man like Count Missoula…’

 

Speaking of which, her uncle said he had found a man who looked like the Count.

 

She wasn’t interested in a fake groom who would be gone in a day or two, but she was intrigued by the idea of a handsome man.

 

Artia wondered, ‘What kind of man…?’

 

Just then, a servant with a familiar face came running in and announced.

 

“Count Missoula has arrived!”

 

A moment later, a man entered the ballroom.

 

His wide-brimmed hat made it difficult to see his face, but his sturdy build and luxurious, refined attire gave him the appearance of a great nobleman.

 

“Ohhh…”

 

Under the gaze of the aforementioned people, the man stretched out his long legs and walked toward Artia.

 

In the blink of an eye, the man in front of her took off his hat, and Artia nearly gasped.

 

“Prince Kilian?!”

 

Was it an illusion?

 

No, there was no mistaking the man’s perfect appearance and overwhelming aura.

 

An illusion.

 

No. Not only Artia, but also the Count and Countess of Blührens and the others around them all had the same open-mouthed expression.

 

“A dream?”

 

Artia pinched the back of her other hand with her white-gloved fingers.

 

‘It hurts…’

 

Then there’s only one conclusion.

 

‘His Highness Prince Kilian is here, even if it is unbelievable!’

 

Confusion filled Artia’s face, hidden by a dark cotton shroud.

 

Whether he knew it or not, the long-haired Kilian opened his mouth.

 

“Angracio von Missoula. I am honored to meet my beautiful bride.”

 

When Killian introduced himself in a low voice as Count Missoula, Artia thought she might faint.

 

How could His Highness show up at a fake wedding, an invitation-only affair in a mansion far from the capital?

 

And as the groom!

 

Turning to Artia, who was too stunned to speak, Killian said.

 

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I must be a stranger. Shall we find a quiet place to talk?”

 

The Count and Countess of Blührens, who had been staring at Killian in fascination, came to their senses and shook their heads.

 

“I think that would be a bit…”

 

A man and a woman talking alone before marriage was not something that was tolerated in the conservative House of Blührens. But…

 

“Yes.”

 

“Julie…”

 

Turning to Humphrey and Helen, who looked worried, Artia said.

 

“This is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, and I want to say hello properly.”

 

The couple hesitated, then nodded.

 

Humphrey whispered to Artia in a low voice.

 

“He doesn’t seem as dangerous as his written introduction suggests. If he does anything rude, I want you to slap him and yell at him. Don’t worry about things like ruining the wedding.”

 

Artia smiled at his sweet words.

 

“Yes, I will.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as they reached the deserted gardens, Artia spoke cautiously.

 

“His Highness, Prince Kilian of Orpheus…”

 

She added a final syllable because the situation was so ridiculous, but the answer was clear.

 

“You are now Angracio von Missoula, just as I am now Juliette von Blührens, not Artia von Edenberg.”

 

Artia wrapped a dark cotton cloth around her brow.

 

“What do you know about them?”

 

“Everything. It was a good idea to ask your long-lost uncle for money, though I think you got something unexpected in return…”

 

The way he spoke so effortlessly, she could tell he knew everything about the situation.

 

She didn’t wonder how he knew what she hadn’t told anyone.

 

If he wanted to, he could know how many books were in Artia’s study.

 

What she was curious about was his intentions.

 

“Why in the world did you come all the way here?”

 

She asked, hoping for a good reason, but once again his answer was puzzling.

 

“I wondered what the hell you were doing.”

 

Bored, pitied, thought it would be fun, and now curious.

 

This man’s answer is always the same.

 

The kind of feeling a child might have for a tiny bug crawling on a leaf.

 

“Why on earth would you do that? Are you interested in me?”