When I Asked My Husband for a Divorce, He Said He’d Be Bringing Home a Young Woman, So I Left - 8

From then on, I gradually began delegating the duties of the lord’s wife and the merchant guild’s work to others while quietly going about my daily life. Though I had often taken the forefront until now, I slowly withdrew so as not to arouse suspicion that something had happened.

I would soon be leaving this place.

I wanted to ensure that the people and the guild would not suffer in my absence.

For the guild, arrangements had already been made for the vice president to assume the presidency if anything happened to me. This had been the contingency plan from the beginning. I had instructed them to keep their headquarters in the Earldom of Ecklund, though they might withdraw depending on circumstances. Still, the earldom’s finances were stable, so the people’s livelihoods would hardly be affected.

No matter what anyone said, I took pride in having protected Ixel’s absence. Though I had never borne a child, the territory and the guild were like the children I had carefully nurtured.

Even if I had to leave, I wanted to wish them everlasting happiness.

Since we had only ever traveled together briefly, I had expected that before long, Ixel would bring up the subject of divorce.

Yet, even after that, his letters contained only apologies for being unable to retire and return home, concern for me as I protected the territory, and words of love—not the slightest hint of separation.

Now that I knew there was something else hidden behind those words, I could no longer find joy in his letters. Before, I would have read them over and over until they were tattered, clutching them to my chest as I slept.

But because I pretended not to know, I couldn’t bring myself to mention divorce.

After that, when I returned from town to the estate, the steward presented his resignation.

Upon learning of the rumors about Ixel at the front, the steward had apparently written to him directly to confirm his lord’s intentions. Without accurate information, he could neither support his master nor advise him properly.

Ixel’s reply had outright denied the rumors, leading the steward to conclude that no matter what outsiders whispered, the bond between the viscount and his wife was unshakable. He decided that the best course of action was for me, as the wife, to remain dignified while stamping out any sparks of gossip.

That was why he had suggested I visit Ixel when I was downcast over his prolonged absence.

But when the truth came out, the very Ixel who had denied the rumors was away on vacation with Charlotte.

Upon learning the situation by express messenger, the steward bowed his head, taking responsibility for having advised the visit.

What fault could there possibly be with him?

Losing such a capable steward—a living archive of knowledge—would be a severe blow to the viscounty. It took all my effort to dissuade him, as he had stubbornly resolved to resign.

In the end, I had to resort to tearfully pleading, asking him to stay at least while I remained in this house.

As I gradually put my affairs in order, I couldn’t very well leave Ixel’s letters unanswered—yet putting pen to paper was agonizing.

Truthfully, when I first heard the rumors, I had considered writing to confront him.

No matter the truth, a husband should never allow himself to be so close to another woman that it invites misunderstanding. As his wife, it was my duty to admonish him.

But I was afraid—afraid of what reply Ixel might send about that truth.

Even if he denied it, the seed of doubt had already taken root in me. And if his reply confirmed the rumors, it would mean the end.

Though this country practiced monogamy, it wasn’t uncommon for wealthy nobles to keep mistresses—but always in secret. Taking a woman already at the center of rumors as an open lover was impossible.

In other words, if the rumors were true, Ixel’s only path would be to divorce me and remarry Charlotte.

If I asked, a reply would come.

I couldn’t bring myself to confront him.

But perhaps that was for the best.

Even if I had written to ask about Charlotte, his reply would likely have mirrored what he told the steward.

If I had learned that after denying the rumors, he had gone on a trip with her, I might have burst a bl00d vessel.

If the rumors were false, meeting Ixel face-to-face would have dispelled all doubt—so not sending the letter wasn’t so crucial.

The real dilemma was how to respond to his letters.

Why hadn’t his tone changed at all? Had I not known the rumors, they would have read like nothing but letters to a beloved wife.

Then it struck me—one possibility.

Could it be that Ixel wasn’t even aware of his own feelings?

Perhaps he had unconsciously suppressed his wandering heart, and his unwitting affection for Charlotte had slipped out, giving rise to the rumors.

That seemed plausible for someone as earnest, sincere, and slightly absentminded as Ixel.

Sighing at how likely this explanation felt, I reluctantly picked up my pen, my heart heavy.

I wouldn’t mention Charlotte now. My letter stuck strictly to reports on managing the territory—a departure from my usual content. Previously, the steward had handled such reports, but without writing of love, prayers for his safety, hopes for a child, or pleas for his swift return, I barely filled a single sheet.

Apologetically, I took over the steward’s role to fill the page, adding only a brief prayer for Ixel’s safety.

I half-hoped he would sense my feelings, but whether he noticed the change in my letters or not, his replies continued to overflow with love for me.