For the Lady's Wise Regression - Chapter 6

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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 6
Vanessa methodically recalled the conditions she’d set for a revenge marriage.
Did they need time to get to know each other? NO.
They’d known each other since childhood—while she might not know his personal tastes, she certainly knew how many bowls the estate used. She’d visited often enough.
Did he have enough power? YES.
Were there points of connection? YES.
Would he cause trouble in the future? NO.
The most important thing.
Was there any chance she’d develop feelings for him? NO!
‘Anyone else, perhaps—but Ian Ruscliffe? Never.’
The evidence was plain to see.
They’d parted ways at the estate, yet not a single letter had arrived.
‘Excellent.’
The answer had been right in front of her all along.
So then…… one last condition.
Was he going to develop feelings for someone in the future?
“Of course…… NO!”
Ian Ruscliffe was still unmarried even as he approached forty!
His past was clean, his future promised to be clean.
He was an excellent bridegroom.
At least, for Vanessa Sharoze herself.
“This is not the time.”
Though Carlyle Leonard had left like some third-rate villain, he wasn’t the type to give up so easily.
For all she knew, the estate entrance could be buried under wedding preparations by tomorrow morning.
Vanessa hastily pulled out paper and pen and began writing a letter.
The fortunate thing was that while her previous life had left her distant from Ian after this incident, that wasn’t the case now.
Had a week passed already?
“Ian Ruscliffe……!
Today marks exactly one week since I sent that letter.
One week of being ignored.
Vanessa ground her teeth together, muttering savagely to herself.
No reply when she’d asked him to come; instead came this stern business. Her teeth practically gnashed themselves.
A Wedding Ring with a large diamond set into it.
Only one person would send such a thing.
Carlyle Leonard.
She’d hurled it away the moment she confirmed what it was.
‘What a madman.’
She’d never expected him to part ways gracefully.
So she’d urged Ian for a reply.
But to think he’d move this quickly.
At this rate, tomorrow’s papers might announce her engagement.
Dominating high society was a specialty of a marquess’s wife.
As her curiosity about her supposed fiancé grew, she would begin to unravel the clues that might reveal his identity.
That ring would be one such clue.
She had to meet Ian before rumors spread through every corner of the city.
‘There’s no choice.’
You should have said so from the start if you wanted to talk face-to-face, Ian Ruscliffe.
This last letter would be delivered in person.
***
“A letter for the Duke of House Ruscliffe—the courier has arrived.”
That was how Denian described Vanessa Sharoze’s abrupt visit—a bolt from the blue on a clear day.
Denian, the butler of Ruscliffe Estate, wore an awkward smile as he beheld Vanessa at his door in the early morning.
“Well, if you’d be so kind as to give me the letter, I can ensure the master receives it. Miss Sharoze. The master has been out since early this morning…….”
“Even so, surely it’s unreasonable of him not to have answered a proposal?”
“……Pardon? A proposal, you say?”
The butler stared at her blankly, the expression of someone hearing this for the first time.
It was a proposal, certainly.
For the past week, everything she’d written in her letters had been ‘Marry me.’ after all.
Though admittedly, the word ‘contract’ did come before ‘marriage.’
Vanessa lifted her gaze to regard Ruscliffe Estate.
More precisely, it was Ian Ruscliffe on the second floor, watching her from the window balcony.
Their eyes met.
Denian’s gaze, too, followed to where Vanessa was looking.
A dry swallow sounded in Vanessa’s ears.
At the same moment Ian’s head nodded slightly, Denian bowed to Vanessa.
“Lady Vanessa. I shall show you inside.”
Faced with what amounted to a gesture of surrender, Vanessa stepped forward willingly.
It was blunt, but unavoidable.
This very morning, a gift had arrived from Carlyle.
If she lingered here any longer, she would be dragged to the wedding ceremony without mercy.
Vanessa drew a short breath and knocked twice on the study door with her knuckles. A low, monotone voice from within granted her entry.
“Come in.”
Perhaps it was the placement of the table positioned by the window.
The moment Vanessa saw Ian backlit against the light, she found herself exhaling in wonder.
Like a statue of divinity carved in the very heart of the Holy State Vatican—austere and ascetic in bearing.
His hair swept back without a single strand out of place, and the silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose undoubtedly contributed to that atmosphere.
That wasn’t all.
The vest and shirt fitted so precisely to his frame that they left no room for looseness, creating an air at once austere and perilous.
Indifferent to Vanessa’s prolonged observation, he removed the glasses from his nose and gazed at her.
“Sit. Will you have tea?”
“…Something cold.”
“Bring two of the same.”
Ian gestured to the butler standing near the door, then regarded Vanessa, who remained rooted to the spot.
“Are you planning to speak standing? Your letter made such a point of the previous matter that I thought you meant to clear up any misunderstanding.”
Ian swept his gaze over her with deliberate slowness.
“Judging by your expression, it seems it was one of those other errands you mentioned. If this distance had been sufficient, I could have shouted across the grounds.”
“…So what’s your answer?”
“…”
“Well, looking at that mountain of letters over there with every seal of House Sharoze torn open, it seems you’ve made up your mind to give me an answer.”
When she pointed with her forefinger at the table, Ian’s lips curved upward.
“You have keen eyes.”
“…”
“Very well. Since you’re so stubborn about it, we shall marry. However, there are conditions.”
Leaving the mountain of documents behind on the table, Ian pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward himself and moved his quill with the air of someone burdened with a tedious task.
Shortly after, a single page was extended toward the now-tense Vanessa.
1. We shall not share a marital bed after the wedding.
2. We shall not produce an heir.
3. Under no circumstances shall we make physical contact.
4. Should Vanessa Sharoze have any business with Ian Ruscliffe, she shall convey it through the butler.
5. We shall take breakfast and lunch together, but dinner separately.
6. Vanessa Sharoze shall not enter Ian Ruscliffe’s private spaces unless it is a matter of true importance. If she must do so, she shall declare her intent at least one hour in advance.
7. Vanessa Sharoze shall not set foot in his study, bedroom, or other personal spaces without Ian Ruscliffe’s permission.
8. At public events, we shall make our entrance together, but depart separately.
Vanessa drew in a sharp breath.
The paper she held was covered with conditions one would never imagine imposing between people about to be married.
He wrote out a second copy with the same ease, remembering every single stipulation.
Two sheets bearing exactly the same text.
“If you simply promise to keep all these conditions, marriage is no great matter.”
So saying, Ian finished signing both sheets first.
Did he mean for them to become less than strangers to each other? No—even actual strangers would have better terms than this.
After a moment of deliberation, Vanessa spoke.
“…Is it possible that you simply dislike me?”
At Vanessa’s question, Ian’s brow twitched.
“What does this have to do with those conditions?”
“I just… otherwise I don’t see how…”
The words she was about to speak—that there would be no reason to impose such terms—died on her lips.
This marriage was already bound by contract; there was no need to cling to someone you disliked.
When even feelings themselves required caution, harboring dislike would only create a different kind of stress.
Of course, he had seemed like an exceptionally fine bridegroom to her.
‘…It’s a shame. He was truly perfect.’
Should I ask him one more time anyway?
It seems wasteful to give up now.
Finding conditions this favorable within the timeframe is uncertain enough as it is.
With such an ideal bridegroom standing right before her, her standards for any future suitor would inevitably rise.
“You’re not… opposed to me, are you?”
At her question, Ian furrowed his brow as though she’d said something utterly absurd. Only then did Vanessa glance again at the contract she held in her hand.
Wait.
‘Looking at it again, these conditions are actually perfect for me.’
No physical contact meant no risk of personal entanglement, and she needn’t fulfill marital duties.
With terms like these, she could focus entirely on her revenge and part ways cleanly afterward.
Vanessa set down the paper and studied the man before her.
“If you’re not opposed to me, then we can marry as long as these conditions hold, correct?”
“…Yes.”
“Good. Tell me if there’s anything you want as a condition of marrying me.”
“That… I should think on it a little more.”
“Fair enough. I’d prefer the wedding be as soon as possible—do you have a preferred date? Or we could keep it simple here in the Holy State, if you have a religion.”
As Vanessa spoke, she finished signing the contract.
“…I’ll send a letter with the contract regarding that matter within a few days.”
“All right. Well, our business is concluded—I’ll take my leave. Sorry for the intrusion.”
Vanessa rose from her seat, gazing at the paper bearing her own signature.
“Take the tea with you.”

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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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