The Reincarnated Noble Lady is the Infamous Viscount's Heir - I've Accepted a Contract Marriage for Estate Management. - Chapter 1.4

“You’re still bothered by what Claude Autred said, aren’t you? That idiot who fawned over another woman and broke off your engagement when you were the one shouldering all the burdens.”

Wow, my eldest sister Patricia didn’t hold back. She insulted him, then gave me a gentle smile.

It’s true—I’ve heard people say, “Claude is such a fool.” Some even mentioned how he could’ve lived comfortably if he’d just married me. But honestly, all he cared about was appearances.

If I had married him, our already struggling finances would’ve only gotten worse!

“I honestly don’t know how he managed to pass the academy’s basic courses,” Patricia added. “He was never on your level, Grace. You have the talent to rebuild this family. No matter where you marry, you’ll make us proud.”

It felt nice to be praised by Patricia.

But it wasn’t just my efforts that saved this family.

“I only managed because of the support from your in-laws, Patricia. They’ve helped us out of trouble more than once. It’s not just about me,” I admitted.

When I served as acting lord, negotiations were a nightmare.

As a teenager, I was seen as an easy target. Other noble families, from barons to viscounts, sent marriage proposals disguised as attempts to take over our territory.

Some didn’t even bother with marriage—they tried to seize control with just a contract. Negotiating with greedy merchants connected to these nobles was terrifying.

Still, through it all, I realized one thing:

I’m so glad I have this cool beauty face.

This face, with its cold, unyielding expression, kept people from underestimating me.

At times, it gave me an air of authority that even surpassed Patricia’s.

“I sometimes wish I could live as freely as Abigail,” I said.

The noble world isn’t fair to women.

We’re limited, restricted, and expected to conform to outdated traditions.

That’s why I admire our second sister Abigail, who carved out her own path.

She earned the title of Magic Countess—how cool is that? She’s like a cheat character in a game.

“Abigail… well, she’s a bit of a special case,” Patricia said, glancing away.

“Exactly. I don’t have her magical abilities or sharp intellect,” I replied. “But as you said, Jessica and Percival’s engagement is approaching. I need to start thinking about my future too.”

What can I do?

I could teach basic land management or administrative skills. Maybe become a tutor or even take the civil servant exam.

“You’re the same age I was when I got married, Grace. Don’t worry—if you look, you’ll find someone,” Patricia reassured me.

So, marriage is the answer, huh?

It makes sense in this society. But…

Even though I was reborn as a beautiful noblewoman, marriage still feels impossible.

Noble marriages are all about politics, alliances, and strengthening factions.

That means my choices are limited.

And honestly, I think it’s better if Percival takes over as the head of the Wilcox family. It’s still a man’s world, and having a male viscount would be better for the family’s future.

So, I’d have to get married and pass the title on to him.

I know that. But…

How am I supposed to get married when I feel like I can’t?

I’m the woman whose engagement was called off, remember?

I was reborn as a stunning beauty, and even then, my first fiancé said I wasn’t to his taste.

On top of that, I became the head of the family at a young age, wrestling control from my father. People must think I’m some power-hungry tyrant!

If I were a man, I wouldn’t want to marry someone with that reputation.

It’s hopeless.

“Grace,” Patricia said sharply. “You have real accomplishments. You’ve managed this family for three years and kept us afloat. Use that to your advantage. And it’s not like you’ve completely avoided social events.”

“Even so, to support the family from the outside, I’d need a husband of equal or higher rank. I don’t have the confidence to judge men like you do, Patricia.”

Who would marry a female viscount?

Barons and viscounts would hesitate, worried I’d take over their houses.

My reputation as someone who seized control from my father would scare them off.

That leaves nobles with higher titles.

And for someone like me, that probably means becoming a second wife.

If I marry at this point, the options are limited:

1. An older noble with a title.
2. A man with a questionable background (like one whose wife left him or passed away).

If I had to choose, I’d go with the older noble.

At least I’d have the skills to help manage their estate as acting lord.

As I sighed and mulled over my bleak prospects, Patricia declared,

“Abigail and I will help. Percival’s family, the Mayfields, are also willing to assist. Let’s make sure you have a dress that’s so stunning, no one would believe you’re just a chaperone.”

Patricia’s words spurred the maids into action.

“Yes, Madam!” they replied enthusiastically.

The dressmaker, already on board, chimed in, “Let’s start by discussing the design!”

Jessica, my youngest sister, peeked into the room, her eyes sparkling.

“Grace, you’re so beautiful! Everyone will be enchanted by you! Let’s match outfits!”

Wait, what? Matching dresses with my little sister? No way!

A debutante-style white dress is out of the question.

If any of my old classmates saw me, they’d cringe!

“If Grace wears white, it should only be for her wedding,” Patricia said firmly.

“Exactly! Grace’s dark hair and golden eyes look best in deep colors, right, Patricia?” Jessica agreed enthusiastically.

“That’s true. Dark tones would suit you perfectly,” Patricia said with a nod.

Jessica, now fully invested, began flipping through fabric samples.

“Deep red… or maybe deep blue? Both would look amazing! Oh, and light cool colors might work too. For accessories, gold hairpins to match your eyes! If we had the budget, we could add real pearls!”

“Jessica, your sense of style is impeccable!” one of the maids praised.

“Just don’t overdo it with too many colors,” the dressmaker advised.

As I watched Jessica’s excitement, I couldn’t help but marvel at her hidden talent.

Under her direction, the perfect outfit for me began to take shape.