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Chapter 189
In truth, just the fact that she and Leroy were on the same page meant that all of her hopes had come true.
That she cherished and loved him as a partner—and he, her.
Considering how awkward their relationship had been in the past, it was a nearly unbelievable change.
So unbelievable, she occasionally wondered if it was all just a dream.
‘To think we’re living as a normal couple... just a few months ago, no one would’ve believed it.’
Surely, this was why Richard finally decided to bring her and Leroy together.
Iona wondered how Richard might have reacted upon hearing that she’d left with Leroy.
Just as he had always hidden his feelings somewhere out of sight, did he, yet again, quietly swallow his anger?
Or did he perhaps lose his temper in front of everyone?
Though it hadn’t been her intention, it almost felt as though she’d finally avenged her past life by doing this.
Just as he abandoned her and ran, she, too, had left him behind.
‘Not that it even matters.’
From the beginning, she hadn’t left Richard out of a sense of vengeance or betrayal.
Her actions on behalf of Leroy naturally put her at odds with Richard, that was all.
Richard was surely feeling betrayed, but it wouldn’t last long.
In their past life, he had never once confessed his feelings to her.
When she thought of how she’d agonized over wanting to confess to Leroy, maybe Richard’s feelings weren’t that deep to begin with.
Indeed, almost a month had passed since she’d arrived at the duchy, yet there had been no word from the palace.
Iona had already left, and most people believed that this was a step toward reconciliation between the royal family and the duchy.
Perhaps Richard had decided to let her go for the greater good.
‘Anyway, it’s likely they’ll continue observing things quietly for a while.’
In the meantime, she could maintain the appearance of cordial relations with the royal family and reap the benefits without worry.
Some people might eventually be furious upon realizing they’d been deceived, but that was none of her concern.
Besides, by the time it all ended, the other side would likely be in no state to say anything.
Iona was picturing the pathetic face of a certain someone when Marsha’s slight cough cut into her thoughts.
"Anyway, I’m glad to see you and him have reached an agreement."
“...”
“Well, these little misunderstandings can happen when a couple cares too deeply for one another.”
There was a strange hint of pride in Marsha's response, though she continued without showing it.
“I considered delaying the report, not wanting to ruin the mood, but there’s some news I thought you should know, ma’am.”
“Don’t worry about that, just tell me.”
“Lady Ida is pregnant.”
Iona slowly sat up.
Now, this was rather intriguing news.
Iona recalled Peter’s desperate face, pleading for the viscountess’ safety.
It had been strange that he so quickly acknowledged their relationship without properly checking for witnesses, but now the reason was clear.
‘Was it because evidence of their affair was growing right there in her womb?’
If the only proof of the affair had been a witness, there might have been some wiggle room to escape.
After all, the outcome could change depending on whom Viscount Ida chose to believe.
But with a child involved, it was a different story.
Even if Viscount Ida were generous enough to trust his wife’s fidelity, there would be no explanation if the child looked like Peter.
And even if the child bore the Viscountess’ likeness, doubt would remain.
“How far along is she?” Iona asked.
“I heard about three months. She didn’t realize it herself since her belly hasn’t shown yet.”
‘She had to have known.’
Iona smirked, then continued, “Did they complete the investigation I ordered?”
“There’s a fresh report on your desk as of today. Shall I bring it to you?”
“Yes, please.”
With a hint of embarrassment, Iona rose from her seat.
Normally, she would have been briefed on such reports first, but her personal affairs had apparently led Marsha to adjust her priorities.
Feeling a little sheepish, Iona cleared her throat and approached her desk.
Among the many documents there, she picked up the thickest one. The title was different, but a quick check of the contents confirmed it was what she needed.
She sat back down and began reading the report.
After some time, she set it down, tossing it onto the desk with a wry smile.
“So I’m not the only one trying to outwit Viscount Ida.”
She pointed somewhere amidst the scattered papers.
The report contained a few sketches, one of which was particularly familiar.
Marsha’s eyes gleamed as she noticed it.
“This is... the maid who acted as an interpreter for the Viscountess.”
Iona had initially suspected Viscountess Ida as an agent for the Empress, since she’d arrived from Bardem at just the right time.
But it wasn’t only the Viscountess herself who fit those criteria.
There was also the maid who had accompanied her from her family’s household—a plausible alternative.
“Do you think the Viscountess knows about this?”
“Who knows? But what’s important is that this maid is working with her.”
“They must know by now that you’re aware of her affair with Sir Peter. I’m concerned about how that might shift things.”
By now, as Marsha pointed out, the Viscountess likely knew—Peter would have told her that their affair was exposed.
Yet, instead of fleeing with Peter, the Viscountess had brazenly remained at the estate, pretending to carry her husband’s child.
The thing Iona had most feared after Peter’s confession was their escape, but it seemed they had nerves stronger than expected.
“Well, if she’s bold enough to try drug her husband’s son from his previous marriage, she’s not going to waste all the effort she’s put in.”
Iona smiled in satisfaction.
“It’s unlikely... but just in case, I think I should write a letter to our dear Viscountess.”
***
Carmen was a woman blessed with luck.
From the moment she, a girl from the slums, was adopted into a noble family as an adult, everyone deemed her life fortunate.
Yet, Carmen privately felt it was a kind of rebound from the misfortunes she’d endured in her past.
Though no one cared about her bygone days, Carmen could talk about her childhood endlessly if anyone would just listen.
She was a mixed-blood, born to a mother from Lehman and a father from Bardem.
As a result, even by Bardem standards, her appearance was rather exotic, which made her an easy target for teasing among children.
Even as she grew older, her unique looks often put her in difficult situations.
For noble bloodlines like the princess from Bardem who had married into the Lehman royal family, marrying a foreigner meant nothing, but for commoners, it was a different story.
Her family always struggled to make ends meet, and Carmen was given the hardest jobs.
Ironically, it was her unusual face—a feature she’d always considered a flaw—that eventually allowed her to pass as a noble.
“You there, you’re not from Bardem, are you?”
Carmen would never forget the moment the man at her workplace singled her out and spoke those words.
She was emptying an ashtray when his familiar yet foreign words caught her attention, and she looked up.
It was Lehmanian.
The language of a neighboring country, the one she used to exchange awkward phrases with her mother.
No one else in the room understood the language, so Carmen was the only one who looked at him, her cheeks involuntarily flushing from the attention she was unaccustomed to.
“Yes, I’m Bardemian,” she answered, “though my mother wasn’t.”
“Well then, you might be quite useful.”
The man smiled with satisfaction, saying something she couldn’t quite comprehend.
After that day, Carmen’s life changed completely.
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