For the Lady's Wise Regression - Chapter 32

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 32
That rumor had somehow survived, still breathing.
Vanessa stared through the backs of the three women as if her gaze could pierce them.
When she’d seen only their faces, she’d been uncertain, but now she was sure.
The three women who, in her past life, had clung to the Marchioness of House Leonard’s side.
So that’s what they’d looked like when they were younger.
After her date with Ian had happened to catch a journalist’s eye, a dedicated paparazzi seemed to follow, turning even brief encounters into headlines.
There were even photographs of carriages lined up before the Charoze Mansion, and Ian standing before them holding gift boxes.
As a result, the front page of the morning papers became her second home, so to speak.
After that, rather than gossip about her causing scandals or infidelity, whispers began circulating through society that perhaps Leonard himself bore some responsibility.
Ernasila’s wedding had played a significant role in that.
Noble weddings naturally attracted a journalist or two.
The more she became a target, the more Leonard’s reputation eroded bit by bit, so it was only natural that the rumors faded.
And now someone was deliberately rekindling those embers?
Then that person must be a lackey of the Marchioness of House Leonard.
This was precisely why I hadn’t wanted to invite them.
But Father’s words—that I shouldn’t let personal feelings ruin public matters—
Since I couldn’t openly speak of the crimes House Leonard had committed against me, I’d sent the invitation, though it felt like handing a knife directly to an enemy.
Vanessa exhaled a small sigh.
Being the only one who knew the past was inconvenient at times like these.
She’d worried that if she faced them directly, she wouldn’t be able to control her expression.
So why hadn’t the Marchioness shown her face yet? Ah, she’d sent lackeys instead.
The three women were ones Vanessa had known intimately in her past life.
More precisely, they were the women who had been the voice of the Marchioness, standing beside her.
When one threw out a topic, the other would ignite it and send it flying.
And the last would pretend to stop them while actually fanning the flames higher—a perfect troika.
Women who would lick the Marchioness’s boots if she commanded it.
Had their temperaments simply aligned so well?
All she remembered was their constant effort not to displease the Marchioness.
As if the fate of their entire house depended on her every word.
Whatever the case, she suspected those women would be the ones to start and spread the rumors about her again.
Vanessa sighed lightly, blaming the feeling of suffocation on the corset cinching her waist, but her brows suddenly furrowed.
Now that she thought about it—wasn’t this absurd? Why should she endure this? She’d gone through a regression, after all.
If there were no justification, she could understand, but circumstances had changed, hadn’t they?
If she’d intended to sit and watch those women spew nonsense through their loose mouths, she wouldn’t have deliberately confronted the Marchioness in the first place.
‘And more than that…’
Now that she’d decided not to endure, how pathetic would she look if she stayed silent even after hearing this?
And it seemed they’d said it deliberately for her to hear.
The evidence was that her eyes had met the woman’s who’d mentioned “the child”—
As if probing for her reaction.
In her past life, she’d already been married to Leonard by then, powerless to do anything but watch her reputation crumble…
‘Do I need to endure it again?’
These women had no idea she’d regressed, and there was no telling when another opportunity might arise.
Besides, in this life, she’d decided to go mad—for them alone.
To the point where they’d scream, “Why are you treating us like this!”
‘What on earth did I do to deserve this, Mother…!’
It had been a rebellion born of endurance finally breaking.
Timid though it was.
It had been something she’d barely mustered the courage to say.
The misdeeds the Marchioness had committed during their marriage could fill an entire book.
So numerous that the minor wickedness of repeatedly tearing off the door hinges to Leonard’s and her bedroom in the early days of marriage—so the door wouldn’t close—seemed almost trivial.
What had she answered to that cry of hers?
‘If being born into House Charoze is your fault, what can I do about it?’
The son said he loved that she was House Charoze, while the mother said she hated that she was House Charoze.
A truly nightmarish in-law family, with no rhythm to follow.
Looking back now, it seemed they’d been trying to mold and condition her to suit their tastes.
At first, she’d resented having to endure marriage while being treated this way, but as time passed, she’d come to accept such treatment as natural.
They endlessly reproached her inadequacy, and had even made a habit of saying, “It seems you never learned, having no mother.”
Eventually, she’d even come to accept it herself: “It’s true—I was lacking because I had no mother!”
‘Now I’m furious just thinking about it.’
However excellent the marquess’s etiquette instruction, it was obvious it would fall short of what my father, the Emperor’s chief advisor, had mastered.
Vanessa herself had limited contact with the Crown Prince, but my father was the opposite—the first face he saw each morning was the Emperor’s, and the last before sleep was the Crown Prince’s.
And yet they dared speak of etiquette lacking in someone raised within House Charoze?
Someone who had learned from the very tutor who had instructed the Crown Prince himself?
Of course, the Crown Prince knew nothing of this.
My tutor was not the sort to boast about which students she taught, and I had never been inclined to parade some shallow connection by saying, “Oh, you learned etiquette from so-and-so? I did too.” Such pretense held no appeal.
And after my marriage, it became a secret buried even deeper.
Had my tutor seen the state I’d become, she would surely say she deserved death for having taught etiquette to someone who walked all over it…….
In any case, now that I carried honor, wealth, and even power on my shoulders, the only thing that gave me pause was my conscience—but there was a reason the word “karma” existed.
“Dia.”
The moment Vanessa had reached her decision, she called out to Dia, who stood at the entrance attending to guests.
“Yes, Miss?”
“Go and fetch the steward of House Ruscliffe for me.”
“The steward, you say……?”
“His name should be Denian. If you’re not certain, ask the Duke of House Ruscliffe.”
“Very well.”
After giving the nearby maid a few instructions, Dia slipped out of the bridal preparation room.
A few minutes later, a head of crimson hair abruptly poked through the constant stream of guests flowing in and out.
“You called for me, madam?”
“……You’ve taken to calling me that rather persistently, haven’t you.”
“Whether you summon me now or later, the title doesn’t change, does it.”
His natural grin made Vanessa blink twice.
Certainly. There was a reason he’d been called a Casanova in his past life.
Seeing the teacher made her understand why the student sometimes stuttered along so smoothly.
So this was why Ian occasionally became slick as a malfunctioning machine?
Vanessa let out a small, deliberate cough.
“Well. Setting that aside—would you step over here for a moment? It’s not something I can ask so openly.”
At her words, the steward’s expression turned troubled as he glanced toward the entrance of the bridal preparation room.
“……This time, please give my lord a proper explanation.”
“An explanation?”
“That you’ve asked me to come close—no, rather, what is this favor you’re asking of me?”
Vanessa leaned toward Denian’s ear and recited the names of three women in sequence.
“……Did these three ladies cause you harm, madam?”
“They tarnished your master’s reputation. I wondered if perhaps they’d caused him some accident. I thought the rumors would fade since they were mere gossip, but it seems they haven’t.”
If I acted directly, it would only give the Marquess’s wife ammunition against me.
But there was one fact they had overlooked.
‘Does one make a child alone?’
Whatever they meant by spreading such words about me, in this life I had no use for discretion.
“An accident? How dare they……!”
“My reputation being damaged is fine—I’m used to it. But your master merely did me a favor, and I won’t stand idle while he’s made into a cad.”
“……Did they say my lord took a lover, and that is what they spread?”
Instead of answering, Vanessa lowered her eyes. She could not bring herself to voice the answer to that question.
‘There’s no need to lie.’
Right now, the subject of “betrayal” was Vanessa Charoze—herself.
But Ian’s involvement was something that had not yet occurred—merely rumor, which always grew flesh around its bones.
It would not be difficult for the Marquess’s wife to shift “Vanessa Charoze took a lover” into “Ian Ruscliffe married her despite knowing of her lover.”
It had likely already spread through the Capital by now, whispered here and there.
Given the Marquess’s wife’s temperament, she would have done exactly that and then some.
Denian, interpreting her silence as answer enough, muttered “At once……” before bowing sharply and vanishing with quick steps.
‘He’s taken it the wrong way.’
Vanessa smiled and welcomed the arriving guests into the preparation room, passing the steward by.
The image of a blind blade swinging toward the Marquess’s wife’s lackeys was too delicious to suppress.
In her past life, whenever an opportunity arose, she’d called them her mistakes and misunderstandings, treating herself as oversensitive and strange.
‘Let them taste a bit of that misunderstanding for once.’
Even with her belly compressed tight against the corset, her insides felt utterly hollow and expansive.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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