The Search for the Duchess’s Husband – Chapter 92

Author: Dakku-san

Freesia’s skin crawled at the sound of the sweet voice she couldn’t imagine coming from the man who had just tried to hit her. An instinctive repulsion washed over her. She wanted to shake off the man’s hand and run away.

But she knew that would only cause her more pain, so she obediently took Count Elysium’s hand.

“No, it’s okay.”

Count Elysium said, looking in the direction of the owner of the unseen voice.

“Looks like we have a guest who likes to stare at people, but never mind, she’s just a cowardly rat who won’t show herself until the end.”

With that, the two of them left, arm in arm.

Once they were out of sight, Artia sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Killian looked down at her and thought to himself.

The bastard thinks Artia of Edenberg is afraid, but he’s clearly mistaken.

Artia was usually quiet, but when she had to, she fought back. Like a wild rabbit fearlessly charging a lion and kicking its hind legs.

Killian couldn’t understand why Artia was so quiet, so he asked.

“Why didn’t you stand up to him when he looked like he was going to kick you in the back of the head with his heels?”

“Because I felt like it.”

The back of the head. The nose, the collarbone, the stomach, the center of a man… she wanted to hit him where it hurt.

It wasn’t enough for the man who put his hands on his wife.

It was only because of Freesia that she didn’t.

“The elegant, beautiful princess would not have wanted anyone to see her being attacked by her husband, let alone by me, whom she hated.”

So Artia didn’t show up.

“After all, I wouldn’t be able to help her prevent Count Elysium from committing violence again…”

Killian looked at Artia, who looked downcast, and murmured in a low voice.

“You’re a good girl.”

“I’m not being nice, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve had the same thing happen to me.”

In an instant, Killian’s golden eyes turned fierce.

“Do you want me to drag Lloyd von Reiner in front of you right now?”

Artia narrowed her eyes, then lowered her eyebrows.

“No, thank you. I don’t need to see him again when I’ve already gotten rid of him.”

Artia didn’t notice that Killian’s fierce gaze softened at the words.

* * *

Back in the ballroom, Killian is greeted with an onslaught of stares. The stares were so intense that he thought he might puncture a hole, but then he did something out of the ordinary.

He danced with three women.

One was an old woman with a hunched back, one was the sister of his cousin, who was related to him by blood, and the other was a ten-year-old little girl who pulled her mother’s leg.

The difference in height was so great that Killian had to dance half carrying the child.

One of the nobles, watching the scene with a look of astonishment on his face as if the world was about to end, said, “Ah!” as if he had noticed something.

“First a divorcee, then a grey-haired old woman, then a cousin, then a child. The common thread that binds them all is that they are not ordinary adult women, and none of them would even be considered women by the viciously misogynistic king.”

“I don’t know about the others, but isn’t it unfair to divide Frau Edenberg in this way?”

“Your Highness is a sensitive and demanding man. A woman with major flaws is unlikely to feel like a normal woman.”

Some nodded in agreement, while others made faces of disbelief.

They argued fiercely, but no one knew Killian’s exact intentions. In the end, they came to the simplest and most obvious conclusion.

“The Mad King has done a mad thing!”

And so the day’s events were dismissed as just one of Killian’s many antics.

Artia breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the spotlight.

It is quite comfortable to be called crazy.

Back in the ballroom, Artia’s eyes met those of Killian, who was standing far away from her.

For a moment, his golden eyes softened. It was so brief that no one saw it.

‘Don’t smile like that, you’re making my heart race again.’

Artia turned her head the other way, desperately trying not to show her pounding heart.

There, in the center of the ballroom, under the brightest lights, was Freesia, arm in arm with Count Elysium.

Their beautiful faces were plastered with beaming smiles. As if nothing had happened.

‘Beautiful as a flower on the outside,’ she thought, ‘but rotting and crumbling on the inside.’

Just like the old me.

Artia dropped her eyes in disbelief.

* * *

Even after the banquet was over and they returned home, Artia was troubled by what she had seen in the garden.

‘The Count Elysium I saw at the banquet was as fond of Freesia as ever.’

But it was a mask; the figure she had seen in the dark garden had been real.

After the guests left, he would show his true face again.

She had visions of Freesia being attacked by Count Elysium in the middle of nowhere.

But not Artia. She couldn’t come between a couple she barely knew.

“It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t bother.”

Artia closed her eyes and tried to control her emotions.

She didn’t get much sleep.

The next day, Artia buried her face in her pillow, exhausted.

After yesterday’s banquet, she thought, “I’ll spend the rest of the day in bed.” But then an unexpected visitor arrived.

Hastily dressed, Artia opened the door to the parlor.

There, in the bright sunlight, was Freesia.

She was dressed to the nines, just as she had been at the banquet last night. But… her face was impossibly pale, as if it hadn’t already been white as snow. Her eyes were red and puffy under her makeup.

Most disturbing to Artia was Freesia’s clothing.

The dress covered her entire body from neck to wrist.

The stiff design meant nothing to Freesia, who was known for her brightly colored dresses and setting trends.

‘She wears it to hide the scars on her body…’

Seeing Artia’s stony expression, Freesia spoke up.

“You were in the garden yesterday, weren’t you Mrs. Edenberg?”

“……!”

Artia’s eyes widened as if she didn’t know how she knew that, and Freesia continued.

“We didn’t talk much, but I remembered your voice, your mannerisms, and especially how you kept looking at me in the ballroom, your eyes full of concern.”

Artia’s face flushed red.

Freesia smiled weakly.

“Thank you for yesterday.”

Artia was surprised.

“I didn’t bother to come yesterday because I didn’t think you wanted me to know. I never thought you’d be so gracious as to thank me…”

Freesia smiled awkwardly.

Count Elysium had never been caught directly assaulting her, but he had been seen by others on several occasions spouting harsh words at his wife in a drunken rage.

People pretended not to see it because they didn’t want to get involved in a sensitive matter.

Or they would defend the Count by saying, ‘Even the sweetest wife sometimes needs to be disciplined.’

How Freesia felt humiliated at that moment.

“You are the only one who has ever stood up for me, Frau Edenberg.”

She was more grateful that Artia stood up for her than she was ashamed that she had shown a side of herself that she never wanted to show.

But it wasn’t just gratitude that brought Freesia here.

She told Artia.

“Please don’t tell anyone what you saw yesterday… not even Marigold or Dahlia.”

There was desperation in her green eyes.

Artia looked at Freesia in silence, then spoke.

“Before you answer, may I tell you my story for a moment?”

Freesia nodded.