A Marriage Alliance for Revenge - Chapter 11

“My lady. An invitation has arrived from Countess Lawrence,” announced Vinter.

 

A week had elapsed since the funeral.

After returning from the funeral, for some unknown reason, Briella fell ill and had been bedridden for the past three days.

 

Her fever had risen like a summer heat wave and refused to abate.

 

Several times she blacked out and recollecting only flashes of Baron slapping her on the cheek.

 

Briella shook her head to clear her mind.

 

“Pass it to me.”

 

Wrapped in a shawl, Briella extended her hand.

 

She chuckled at the plain and umembellished invitation, too modest for someone of noble stature.

 

Vinter must have also noticed the simplicity of the invitation, as his expression displayed disappointment.

 

“They’re inviting us to a tea party.”

 

She slammed the invitation down on the table and picked up a glass of herbal tea.

 

The tiny petals in the glass bounced in response to her sudden force.

 

“Was it the Earl of Lawrence?” asked Vinter filling her teacup, having observed the magnolia branch seal on the cardstock.

 

“Yes, it was.”

 

It was the result of deliberately provoking the Countess of Lawrence at the funeral.

 

‘Does she want to see me in person because she can’t let it go?’

Her constant finger tapping of the chair’s armrests spoke volumes about her anxious state.

 

“That’s good to know. I heard from the head maid that you might fancy Madame Blanc’s clothes.”

 

Briella’s fingers paused at the butler’s words, she stared at him, but he only shrugged.

 

The marriage had been hastily conducted, and despite the resources of an estate, it was ill-prepared for the arrival of a new mistress.

“Madame Blanc has quite the reputation in the capital, doesn’t she?” Briella said slowly, as if restraining a sigh.

When she was Olivia, she’d simply snap her fingers for whatever she desired, but circumstances were different now.

Society wouldn’t take kindly to someone who they perceived as a country bumpkin of a duchess with supposed barbarian blood in her veins.

 

That was Briella’s status among the nobility.

 

“From what I hear, she’s one of the most renowned, up-and-coming designers these days,” Vinter added.

 

Briella nodded thoughtlessly.

 

Madame Blanc.

 

She’s a solid choice.

 

If she could dispel Madame Blanc’s notions of her aside and get her to know her as she is, she’d be someone advantageous to have around.

 

“Not bad, Madame Blanc could prove useful in many ways,” She mused, picking up her teacup and leisurely surveying the parlor.

 

It was a modest, unadorned home, yet nothing here was superfluous.

 

Even the chair made of ebony she was sitting in.

 

She couldn’t help but picture that this was the home of an obscure duke without a single estate to their name.

 

“I’ll take this opportunity to summon Madame Blanc to procure you some clothes, and since you don’t have any remarkable jewelry, I’ll need to contact a jeweler as well. Do you have any particular preferences?”

As if the moment he had been waiting for finally arrived, Vinter rapidly listed a series of requisites in response.

 

In all honesty, her biggest complaint was that she was as frail as a dried-up branch in winter.

However, that was a matter for later.

She realized something else that needed to be addressed before Vinter’s idea took precedence.

As long she and Lucas were married, she needed to know.

 

“As mistress, how much of the estate’s funds can I spend?”

 

As if she could read the butler’s mind, she inquired, anticipating a discussion about a possible dowry.

The due diligence of the manor’s maids had kept her wardrobe well-stocked. Yet it was far from sufficient to match the levels needed in aristocratic society.

 

‘I may have to make a trip to the treasury vault sooner rather than later.’

 

In truth, marrying Lucas had never made sense—marrying Viterpan as she was, without a penny to her name, it was inconceivable.

Had this been any other young lady waiting for their dowry, they’d throw a fit upon finding out.

 

She shook her head, imagining the worst.

 

“None whatsoever,” came Vinter’s response.

 

Her trembling hand placed the teacup down, and she proceeded to relax her taut shoulders, turning her gaze toward the butler, and exhaling calmly.

 

‘I wonder if we should rob Gusto’s treasury right now.’

 

She muttered to herself.

 

“There you are.”

 

Lucas announced himself, having just entered the parlor while unbuttoning a couple of the buttons on his shirt, as if returning from his office.

 

“Welcome, Your Grace.”

 

“Spare me the unnecessary courtesies, my lady.”

 

He extended his hand to Briella, who rose from her seat to greet Lucas.

 

However, Lucas swiftly stepped in front of her in a single stride.

 

“Hmmm. You’re still working despite having a slight fever?”

It had all transpired so quickly, she had no time to react.

 

Forehead to forehead, their breaths intertwined.

 

Briella was embarrassed by this unexpected intimacy.

 

“You’re turning red, shouldn’t you be lying down?”

 

She felt like she was being sucked into his dark eyes, which gleamed at such close proximity.

 

Briella, who had been clasping her hands on her chest, reached out involuntarily.

 

“Ouch.”

 

Lucas, who took an exaggerated step back as Briella pushed him away, smirked.

 

“Your Grace,” her voice emitted a faint heat with each word.

 

Lucas released both her hands and sat down.

 

“I see you’re in better spirits. Baron was making quite the fuss so I came down to check on you,” Lucas explained.

 

Despite her fever-induced blur, she remembered Baron soothing her by rubbing her forehead.

 

His cold hand against her burning forehead was a comforting sight in the midst of her fever.

 

‘Idle thoughts.’

 

Briella shook her head to clear her mind of any more unnecessary thoughts.

 

Lucas, sitting upright in his seat, saw her and smirked.

 

“What can I get you for tea?”

 

She stopped in her tracks and looked at Vinter.

There the butler was, stalwart as ever, pouring tea with fluid hand movements as if unfazed by what had occurred.

 

‘Oh, my God.’

 

The suddenness of Lucas’s actions made her forget the butler was even there.

 

Briella picked up the glass of water on the table.

 

The lukewarm water slid down her throat, but her flushed face refused to cool.

 

Lucas observed her closely, and when she set the glass down, he spoke up.

 

“I’ve heard that a spy is watching over Princess Serena,” Lucas mentioned, using Baron’s rant as a pretext for his visit.

The heat in Briella’s chest dissipated instantly, and she was instantly alert.

 

“What?”

 

“You weren’t expecting that, weren’t you?”

 

His tone was mild but tinged with anger.

 

“No. It was just before the Empress, Her Majesty passed away that she learned of the Princess’s whereabouts.”

It wasn’t until she became pregnant, that she began earnestly digging around about Gusto’s weaknesses, focusing less on the well-being of the empire and the imperial family.

 

The more cards she held, the better chances she had against Gusto.

 

However, all her sleepless nights and expenditures had seemingly been in vain.

 

Who knew Gusto could wield the ace up his sleeve so blatantly and ignorantly?

 

“I see.”

 

“Before that, I didn’t even know if the Princess was alive, if it hadn’t been for the Emperor’s slip of the tongue,” she mumbled with a apologetic tone.

 

A foul-up.

 

In front of Lucas, she had always been nothing but a foul-up, a guilty foul-up.

 

She was someone who always ruins everything.

 

“Anyway, we need to revise our plans,” Lucas declared, pressing a hand to his forehead with an air of weariness.

 

Briella stared at him, her mouth agape.

 

‘I should have done something.’

 

This was the man whom she had promised to make emperor.

 

But every successive turn of events had taken their toll on her body.

 

She bit her lip in impatience.

 

“I think your lip is innocent here, spare it the pain.”

 

Lucas smirked as he traced Briella’s lip, recalling someone else who would stomp her foot and also bite her lip when she was angry.

 

“We learned about Serena’s whereabouts because of you, and for that, I’m grateful.”

 

“……”

 

“Did you think I’d resent you?”

 

“…..No?”

 

“Who knows what’s going on in the Emperor’s mind? I’m just glad I know where Serena is before he makes his move.”

 

“But if I hadn’t made such a fool of myself, she’d be up the Lena River by now.”

 

Lucas let out a sigh at Briella’s self-pity.

It was a long sigh, as if he was intentionally trying to be heard.

 

“We have a thousand leagues to go. I don’t want you any more tired than you already are.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Think again about the position I’ve given you.”

 

His voice was as cold as a glacier during midwinter, and she shivered.

 

She mustn’t be held back by the ghost of Olivia, who was now buried and rotting in the ground.

 

Briella’s eyes widened and Lucas spoke up.

 

“You were talking about our funds earlier—you’re allowed to spend as much of it as you need. We won’t become insolvent if you go on a spending spree.”

 

Briella’s eyes widened.

 

She had some idea of Lucas’s resourcefulness, as evidenced by the magnificent manor and the loyalty of those around him.

It was no easy feat.

 

Feeling Lucas’s gaze on her, Briella looked up.

 

“Is there anything else I should know about?” She inquired, recalling that even when she was Empress, she had never heard of the Duke Viterpan’s private estate.

 

The outside world knew squat about the private fortunes of Duke Viterpan.

 

“When I lost my parents and didn’t know about my sister’s circumstances—do you know what the most painful thing was?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“The hunger and cold I felt,” Lucas replied, his voice tinged with emotion.

 

Briella looked at him, taking in the unexpected answer.

“Even though my parents’ heads were hanging from the plaza, all I could think about was the aching hunger.”

 

Lucas shrugged, picking up the teacup the butler had set down.

 

Briella was stunned by the revelation, the severity of his suffering.

 

“I didn’t know if my sister was alive or dead, and I felt the freezing cold pierced through my clothes. I thought I was done for, until Vinter found me.”

 

Briella stared at the swirling petals trapped in her teacup.

 

Nowhere in his story of past misfortune was there a hint of resentment toward Olivia or Marquis Ronae.

 

Or maybe it wasn’t something he could confide in her yet.

 

“I see.”

 

“Anyway, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to use wealth we have to buy more power,” muttered Lucas as he looked over the weedy garden.

 

“Now that we have you, maybe we should attend to outwardly appearances as well.”

 

His rather playful tone was enough to thaw the frozen atmosphere.

 

“If you need anything, just ask Vinter or Maria.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Briella Viterpan,” Lucas addressed her formally.

 

“Yes. Your Grace.”

 

She lifted her head to make eye contact, although Lucas standing in the backlight, made it challenging to make eye contact.

 

“Viterpan is the name Gusto associates with a dog on a leash,” Lucas stated.

 

“…..”

 

“But the name Briella is different, one I handpicked for the woman who stands beside me.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Briella’s shoulders, which had slumped, straightened once more. Her dark-green eyes, previously filled with anxiety, regained their composure.

 

“Then shall we get going, madame?”

 

“Yes?”

Briella’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the hand extended before her.

 

She didn’t have time to her slipping shawl before her hand was grabbed and she was halfway into Lucas’s arms.

 

“We will be meeting about Serena’s affairs very soon. Or have you forgotten already that your seat is next to mine?”

 

“No, Your Grace.”

 

Briella withdrew Lucas’s hand supporting her slender waist and stood up straight.

 

‘This was strange to say the least. It didn’t matter how one looked at it.’

 

Lucas studied her, remembering the slum streets where they’d first met.

 

Her every gesture exuded grace and elegance. She reminded him of his own mother.

 

“Did you have any special training in etiquette?”

 

“….yes. One must conduct themselves well in every situation they find themselves in.”

 

“I suppose he or she must have been a pretty harsh etiquette teacher?”

 

There weren’t many people in the capital who could teach imperial etiquette to perfection.

 

Most if not all were occupied tutoring the children of nobles, and they were hard to come by.

 

She recalled the snobby attitudes and the cruel treatment towards her as if they were the head of the imperial family themselves.

 

“Yes. I had a pretty harsh teacher.”

 

Briella smiles wryly at the memory of her childhood.

 

Up until then, her life hadn’t been too bad.

 

The Marquis Ronae had been callous even then, but not so cold as to abet his daughter’s death.

 

Lucas deftly escorted her, matching Briella’s pace.

 

“Keep an eye on it. This is yours to decorate.”

 

Lucas said humorously as they strolled through the empty gardens and hallways.

 

“Do you really think we need to renovate it?” remarked Briella.

 

“Why?”

 

“Soon, you’ll be going back to your ‘real home’.”

 

With that, Lucas stopped walking.

 

The butler ahead of him disappeared around the corner as if he hadn’t noticed the two lagging behind.

 

There was no one else in the deserted hallway but the two of them.

 

“Briella.”

 

“Before two winters have passed, Your Grace will be back where you rightfully belong.”

 

“…..Are you finally thinking about helping me?”

 

“I have always intended to help you. It’s just that I’ve only now come to my senses.”

 

Briella laughed.

 

It wasn’t just a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

 

Her eyes narrowed until they lost their forest green color, giving Lucas pause.

 

She reminded Lucas of a girl he knew, someone who could smile so brightly you could see the genuine happiness in reflected in her eyes.

 

“Come on, Your Highness.”

 

The scenery had changed as they exited the parlor.

 

Lucas held out his hand to Briella, who took a step ahead of him.

 

“You’re unusually warm.”

 

“What?” Lucas muttered, looking down at the dainty hand holding his.

 

The noon sun was shining brightly through, bathing them in light.

 

‘I wonder if her silver hair is supposed to shimmer like that.’

 

“Shall we go?”