The Virtually Exiled Duke’s Daughter Is Troubled When Her Fiancé in a Neighboring Country Says, "I Will Never Love You" - Episode 29

Deborah clearly remembered how Marquis Sisley spoke about his beloved wife yesterday, his expression soft with nostalgia.

“She would talk casually not just to the servants, but even to the people in the territory. Sometimes, she would even join them in the fields, getting covered in mud.”

At that moment, Deborah felt a small prick of pain in her chest. But since it was only for an instant, she ignored it and continued thinking.

Magdala must have spoken kindly to Tom, the butcher’s errand boy who often came to the Sisley estate. It was easy to imagine that he had loved the warm and friendly lady of the house. If she had died in the war, then it was only natural for him to hate Mammut.

Throb.

This time, the pain in her chest was slightly stronger than before.

“?”

Still, she ignored it. Shelly would soon return with the tea. She had to organize her thoughts before that.

“Shelly…”

Shelly, too. That kind and gentle maid had been unsure at first, not knowing how to treat Deborah. But within a few days, she had opened up, taking care of her warmly and chatting with her often. Unlike Deborah, her expressions were always easy to read.

But that same Shelly had shown a rare, complicated expression once. It was when she mentioned that the vegetables in the breakfast salad were grown in the garden. When Deborah had asked about the previous wife, Magdala, Shelly had looked both troubled and smiling at the same time. That was the only time Deborah had seen such an expression on her face.

Throb.

“!? ”

Again, a sharp pain struck Deborah’s chest. This time, she couldn’t ignore it.

(What is this…? Why?)

Her heart was pounding louder than usual. The sensation traveled up her body, making her throat tremble and dry. Yet, her nose felt strangely damp, stinging from the sensation.

She clutched her chest and slumped back into the chair, trembling slightly.

“Excuse me. I have brought your tea…”

Shelly entered the room with the tea tray but stopped mid-sentence when she saw Deborah. Then, she hurried over.

“Lady Deborah? Are you alright!?”

“…Shelly…”

Deborah barely managed to whisper her name. Her face was flushed, her expression pained, and her eyes were wet.

“Oh no! Could it be the seasonal cold?”

Shelly placed her hand on both her own forehead and Deborah’s. At that moment, a tear slipped from Deborah’s eye and fell.

“Shelly… I…”

“Ah, please don’t talk. You should rest! You don’t have a fever yet, but it might rise soon!”

Misunderstanding the situation, Shelly took charge. She helped Deborah out of her dress, changed her into a nightgown, and tucked her into bed.

“I’ll ask Lady Lauren to prepare a remedy for colds. Please stay still and rest!”

“…Thank you.”

Deborah wiped her eyes quietly and rested her head on the pillow. Her red hair spread across the white sheets like waves. As she closed her eyes, she asked herself—

(Why did I cry?)

Back in her homeland, she had suffered through far worse, yet she had never shed a tear.

When her fiancé Aaron suddenly broke off their engagement and falsely accused her of bullying Fiona.

When she returned home only to be scolded by her parents instead of comforted, locked away in her room.

When her family, whom she had trusted, betrayed her and abandoned her, sentencing her to exile.

Even in those moments, she had kept her mask of a smile, assessing every situation with cold logic— “This is just cutting my losses.” “It could have been worse.”

Yet now, despite being treated with kindness, she was crying.

(…It must be because of the onions.)

She had cried the other day while peeling onions. That must have loosened her tear ducts. After all, she hadn’t cried in front of anyone for over ten years.

With that conclusion, she lay quietly until a refined knock echoed through the room.

“Excuse me.”

A polite yet firm voice followed. It had to be Swallow.

“Lady Deborah, the lord wishes to check on you. May I let him in?”

Deborah’s pale face turned even paler. She couldn’t face Marquis Sisley right now. She didn’t want to.

She turned to Shelly, who was standing beside her.

“The marquis is leaving tomorrow morning, isn’t he? If I meet him now and pass on my cold, it would be terrible. It would be best if we didn’t meet.”

“Oh, you’re right!”

Shelly nodded and relayed Deborah’s words through the slightly opened door to Swallow.

“…Lady Deborah.”

Through the narrow gap in the door, a low yet gentle voice reached her.

Deborah flinched and pulled the covers over her face.

“I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re unwell. I heard you don’t have a fever yet, but are you alright?”

Hiding beneath the sheets, Deborah only gave a small nod. If she spoke, her voice might tremble.

“…I see. Please rest well.”

The door closed quietly.

Under the covers, Deborah silently wept.

Marquis Sisley’s voice was always gentle and warm, wrapping around the listener. It had never changed since they first met.

And with that same voice, he had told her—

“I will never love you. You understand, don’t you? You are a hostage of my country.”

“I love only my late wife.”

“I know it’s selfish of me, but… I wish you could serve me just as she did.”

How had he truly felt when he smiled and said those words to the enemy who had taken his beloved wife away?
Just thinking about it made Deborah’s tears flow even more.