Chapter 130: An Intentional Marriage
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 130: An Intentional Marriage
High society was abuzz with talk of Blair’s marriage prospects.
The Imperial Princess’s future husband became the topic of conversation not only at the tea parties of noblewomen and their daughters but also in the gentlemen's clubs where the men gathered.
“So, who’s the lucky bastard who gets to marry our beautiful and noble Imperial Princess?”
“Well, it’s definitely not you.”
“What? What’s wrong with me?”
“Do you really need to ask? Her Highness has eyes, you know. She’d never choose someone like you.”
“What did you just say, you punk?”
“Hey, but is marrying the Imperial Princess really that lucky? You’d have the Imperial Family as your in-laws. If your wife has a strong personality, you’ll be living under her thumb for the rest of your life.”
“But she’s gorgeous.”
“Tsk, tsk. You shallow bastard, only caring about looks.”
“Oh, and I suppose you were looking at her inner beauty when you were chasing after Ariste from the theater troupe?”
The young noblemen traded verbal jabs, using Blair as their weapon while they played cards. Deep down, they all wished to marry her, yet they disparaged her. Beneath their words lay a petty malice born from the bitterness of not being able to have what they so desperately wanted.
Yohan, who was playing billiards in the adjacent room, clicked his tongue as he overheard their conversation while waiting for his turn.
He lined up his cue stick, took his stance, and asked Herdin, “What about you?”
Herdin, who had just finished his shot and was nursing a glass of liquor nearby, glanced at Yohan, his expression asking what he meant.
“Marriage,” Yohan clarified. “You’ve returned a war hero, and rumor has it that the most prominent ladies are lining up outside the Ducal Mansion. Aren’t you going to get married?”
Marriage.
First, it was the family elders, and now even Ruth and Yohan were bringing up the tedious subject. After the recent victory banquet, Ruth had asked if any of the young ladies had caught his eye, but Herdin hadn't answered. From the very beginning, the only person he had eyes for was Blair.
Before he could reply, Yohan’s turn ended. Herdin picked up his cue, took his position, and finally offered a nonchalant response.
“Who knows.”
“Or is there a lady you’re already waiting for?”
Herdin didn’t answer, focusing on the ball instead.
“Anyway, you should make up your mind and pick a suitable lady soon. You need to get off the market so the rest of us in Ardel stand a chance.”
Herdin saw no reason why he should consider the plight of pathetic fools failing in the marriage market, but he didn’t bother to argue.
The game ended in Herdin’s victory.
Yohan, who had done nothing but lose all day, grumbled.
“You heartless bastard. Couldn’t you let me win just once?”
“A game is only fun when you win with your own skill, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s all my fault for being unskilled.”
As the two of them finished their drinks, the voices of the young noblemen drifted in from beyond the arched doorway once more.
“Still, whoever becomes the Imperial Consort is one lucky bastard.”
“Why are you bringing that up again?”
“She’s drop-dead gorgeous. When else in your life would you get to sleep with a woman like that?”
“You crazy bastard. Typical of someone who only cares about looks.”
“I bet she’s beautiful on the inside too. Her heart must be warm… and her chest, too…”
Yohan’s expression hardened as he listened to them snicker and trade crude jokes. As Herdin’s friend, he had no particular fondness for the Imperial Family, but he couldn’t stand their vulgar remarks harassing Blair.
“Her Highness needs to find a husband quickly so she doesn’t have to be the topic of these idiots’ conversations… Hey, where are you going?”
Leaving Yohan behind, Herdin walked out of the room. He strode over to the young nobleman spewing the vulgar jokes and kicked the chair right out from under him. Caught completely off guard, the man crashed heavily to the floor.
The onlookers gasped. Even Yohan, who had followed close behind, stared with his mouth agape in shock.
“What the hell was that for?!”
The young lord, who had sprawled pathetically on the floor, scrambled to his feet in a rage. But the moment he met Herdin’s icy glare, his mouth snapped shut.
“My foot caught on the chair.”
The space was wide. There was more than enough room to pass without bumping into anything. And besides, Herdin’s action had undeniably been a deliberate kick, not an accidental trip.
“What kind of nonsense is—”
Before the young lord could finish his protest, Herdin stomped on the fallen chair. With each brutal kick, the wood splintered into kindling. As he ruthlessly crushed the chair, his eyes remained utterly indifferent, which only made the sight more terrifying.
The surrounding nobles stared, paralyzed with fear. With every crack of splintering wood, they felt as if their own bones were being shattered.
Finally, having reduced the chair to a pile of wreckage, Herdin stopped.
“The chair was in my way. It’s the chair’s fault, isn’t it?”
Herdin walked back into the room, picked up his jacket, and casually strolled past the frozen nobles.
“What’s wrong with him all of a sudden? Has he gone insane…?”
He ignored the hushed whispers buzzing behind him.
Stepping outside the club, Herdin had an attendant call for his carriage, then lit a cigar. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those bastards degrade a woman with their words, yet he felt an unusual wave of disgust wash over him.
She was a woman who had absolutely nothing to do with him. He should have just dismissed them as pathetic, as he always did, and let it go. Instead, he had gone out of his way to fan the flames.
A belated irritation at his own uncharacteristic behavior flared within him, but he didn’t regret it.
Before long, the carriage arrived.
When he returned home late, Ruth was there to greet him, immediately holding out a stack of documents.
“Your Grace, there are some urgent documents you need to review—”
Before Ruth could finish, Herdin snatched the papers from his hands and commanded, “Compile a list of eligible young noblewomen.”
Blinking at his lord’s sudden order, Ruth took a moment to process the words before his face lit up with joy. He didn’t know what had suddenly gotten into Herdin, who hadn’t budged despite his endless nagging, but he felt an immediate sense of relief that the Duke had finally decided to fulfill his duty as the head of the house.
“What kind of lady are you looking for? If you could tell me your preferences—such as her family background or appearance—it would make it much easier to narrow down the candidates.”
“Anyone.”
“Pardon?”
“I said it doesn’t matter who.”
Answering as if choosing his future wife were someone else’s business entirely, Herdin headed straight for his office.
He truly felt as though anyone would do.
Because he didn’t even know what he wanted himself.
* * *
Once word spread that Herdin was looking for a wife, every noble in the empire with a daughter of marriageable age flocked to the Ducal Mansion.
But someone else sought him out, far more anxious than any of them.
“I hear you are looking for a wife. The entire capital is buzzing with speculation over who will become the lady of the House of Delmark.”
Upon hearing the news, Ivan had summoned Herdin to the Imperial Palace faster than anyone else.
“What do you think of Blair as a candidate?”
Herdin’s hand paused as he lifted his teacup. The moment he heard those words, he realized he might have anticipated this very outcome from the moment he ordered Ruth to find him a wife.
No, perhaps… he had intentionally engineered this situation.
While he felt disgusted by Ivan’s predictability, which didn’t deviate in the slightest from his expectations, he was paradoxically pleased by the proposal that aligned so perfectly with his calculations.
“Though there was an unfortunate incident between the House of Delmark and the Imperial Family in the past, a considerable amount of time has passed since then.”
“…”
“I believe it is time we put an end to the ill will between us. I see no better way to restore the relationship between our two families than through marriage. What are your thoughts, Duke?”
To sweeten the deal, Ivan even offered to authorize an increase in Delmark’s military forces. Hiding his true intention of absorbing Delmark’s influence, Ivan spoke as if this marriage were a benevolent favor bestowed by the Imperial Family for the sake of Delmark’s honor.
Yet, even though his ulterior motives were glaringly obvious, Herdin felt no desire to refuse.
The calculation was simple.
What he would give Ivan was the position of Duchess—which someone would have to occupy anyway—and Delmark’s influence.
What he would gain was the expansion of Delmark’s military forces, with the added bonus of a woman to fill the seat of his wife.
Furthermore, she was the sole witness to the Empress's Palace Fire Incident from ten years ago.
There was absolutely no reason to reject the terms.
Convinced, Herdin replied, “I accept the marriage proposal.”
* * *
The wedding preparations proceeded smoothly.
Though there was much gossip both inside and outside high society regarding the union of two families known to be bitter enemies, Herdin ignored it all.
And so, the grand wedding ceremony came to an end.
Having entered the bridal chamber first, Herdin waited for his new bride, wetting his lips with the wine set on the table. This was the first time he was properly facing her since the victory banquet.
They had no reason to meet during the preparations. While some men visited their brides-to-be to play the part of a doting lover—whether for show or out of genuine affection—such things had nothing to do with him. Though they had been together throughout the wedding and the reception, they had been constantly surrounded by others, leaving them no time to actually talk.
My wife. Mine.
The words pleased him immensely.
He had stolen the future of a woman who could have been happy by another man’s side, forcing her to sit by his. He wanted whatever lingering guilt she harbored to keep her miserable for the rest of her life.
Just as he began to wonder what kind of expression she would wear for him, her husband, a knock broke the silence.
“Come in.”
A moment later, the door opened gently, and Blair stepped inside.
She wore a nightgown that clung to the curves of her body, her eyes betraying an obvious nervousness. Yet, she forced a calm facade as she walked over and stood beside him.
Then, taking a deep breath to steady herself, she asked abruptly,
“Should I take it off…?”