My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 46

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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 46
Chapter 5. Secrets (2)
Young Celia had fled from the garden party hosted by Marquess Moncrief’s Wife.
‘Why should I stand about watching adults make conversation when there’s such a beautiful garden to explore? It’s unreasonable.’
She was in that obstinate phase of adolescence where she feared almost nothing. She was confident she could weather her father’s sharp gaze if it came to that.
Slipping away and returning unnoticed would be a perfect crime, after all.
“Marquess Moncrief’s Wife may have questionable taste, but her sense of aesthetics is excellent.”
She left behind the dessert—a cupcake that tasted unpleasantly salty—and tucked herself away in the garden’s sprawling beauty.
The roses draping the arched colonnade embraced her.
Had her governess seen her hiking her dress to her knees and striding along like that, she would have been scandalized, but here there was no one to hold her back or scold her.
‘I’ll stay here until the bell rings.’
The white gravel path curved ahead, stretching far into the distance. Each time sunlight filtered through the leaves and fell upon the path, golden patterns bloomed and faded, and Celia found herself unable to tear her eyes away.
Full-blown roses, white peonies, lavender-tinted irises, lavender and daisies.
She bounded along the flower-lined path, gathering her skirts in both hands.
Then she stopped short, as if her feet had taken root.
Beneath the great tree she’d been heading toward, she spotted a group of boys her own age gathered together.
‘So that’s where they all went?’
Celia’s face darkened as she watched them playing cards. Just moments ago, she’d been surrounded by adults, performing her part as a dutiful and well-behaved child.
And worst of all, Lucius was among them.
Celia scowled and turned to leave.
She’d heard he was coming, but she was glad when he didn’t appear—only to find he’d been here all along. The mere fact that they occupied the same space soured her mood.
Then a voice rustled through the leaves.
“Why did you tell someone else!? I told you not to say anything!”
Celia’s half-turned feet froze in place.
Among the tangled group of children beneath the tree, breath came in gasps as if tears might burst forth at any moment.
“Tch, a boy shedding tears over something so trivial. Who told you to steal Lady Henita’s belongings in the first place?”
One of the boys’ voices suddenly grew louder.
“B-but even so, if someone trusts you enough to tell you something, you ought to apologize!”
“You expect me to humiliate myself by bowing to the son of a baron?”
“That’s not the point!”
The mood was no longer one they could laugh off.
As their voices rose, they sought a solution: turning to Lucius, who carried the most weight among them and seemed the most mature for his age.
“Young master, what do you think about this?”
Celia’s ears perked up without her meaning to.
There came the crisp sound of a page turning.
Then, as a book closed, a strange new voice emerged—one that seemed to have passed through the depths of a changing voice, rough from the transition.
“I don’t think it’s right to carelessly pass along someone else’s secret.”
Celia found herself drawn in, listening without conscious intent.
“To treat a confidence like gossip is a betrayal of trust.”
Lucius laid out his thoughts matter-of-factly.
“Just as I thought, young master agrees—!”
“However.”
He lowered his gaze, then raised it again.
“If that secret causes hardship for someone or harms them, the matter becomes different.”
Several of the children held their breath.
“So don’t create secrets that would displease someone.”
Celia, hidden in the underbrush, craned her neck forward until only her eyes peeked out.
Lucius sat beneath the tree, his fair hair neatly arranged where the sunlight touched it, and his blue eyes remained as composed and fathomless as ever, unusually so for his age.
Whether he’d grown taller since she’d last seen him or for some other reason, he seemed more adult than the boys around him.
“In the first place, a secret you can’t openly justify to others will never remain secret.”
He lifted his gaze and brought his words to a close.
…….
In that moment, it seemed—almost—as if his eyes met hers across the shrubbery.
‘How tiresome.’
It must have been her imagination.
***
The ducal manor, returned to after so long, remained unchanged.
Celia offered a brief observation.
The interior without a speck of dust, the servants’ orderly greetings—such things especially felt that way.
“Would you like to go rest first?”
“What about you?”
As she was directing the servants who’d come ahead to see to the luggage, Lucius spoke in his measured way.
“The Duke called for me, so I should go see him.”
Now that he mentioned it, she vaguely recalled hearing that the Duke had returned yesterday.
Still, even so. It seemed odd to summon his son the moment he’d arrived home.
‘Did he forget that Lucius lost his memory and was eager to see him quickly?’
If so, wouldn’t it suffice for me to go? Why call him when he hasn’t even recovered from the journey?
Celia’s speculation trailed off as Cabel arrived and led Lucius away.
Left alone, she deliberated for a moment, then turned toward her room.
The milky marble spiral staircase set in one corner of the hall curved smoothly upward to the upper floor. She loosely tidied her travel-worn dress and placed her first foot on the step.
Then, from somewhere, a listless voice reached her.
“Celia.”
None other than Eleanor suddenly appeared, blocking her path.
Celia, about to ascend, stumbled and gripped the banister tightly.
“…What is this, exactly?”
The noble Duchess rarely initiated conversation with her.
Especially lately. The awkwardness that had arisen between them after Lucius lost his memory lingered still.
“Spare me a moment, would you?”
“When have you ever cared about my time? Go ahead.”
Eleanor flinched reflexively at the blunt edge to Celia’s words. As a result, the eyes of the attendants standing behind her sharpened at once.
Celia felt, in that moment, that she had truly returned to Windmere Family.
The faces gathered here, one and all, could fill an entire shelf with complaints about her alone.
“Come here for a moment.”
Eleanor, her thin frame wedging itself between Celia and the attendants, spoke with an oddly urgent expression.
“You called for me?”
Celia raised a finger to point at herself.
Eleanor nodded briefly up and down.
“Quickly.”
What in the world was this about?
Celia moved, drawn along by Eleanor’s gestures, bewildered.
They entered a secluded room where few footsteps ever fell. Its only decorations were a small landscape painting on the wall and faded curtains.
Eleanor immediately dismissed the attendants. Once the last one had withdrawn, she closed the door herself and firmly checked the handle.
‘Ugh… annoying. I’ve just arrived home and this is what I get.’
Celia, watching this unfold, wound a strand of hair around her fingertip with a disgruntled expression.
Meanwhile, Eleanor said nothing, only tapped the floor with the toe of her shoe.
She paced the narrow room, hesitant, then suddenly stopped before Celia. The boredom vanished from Celia’s face; her eyes widened.
“The Duke has come home… my husband has returned.”
It was something she’d already heard from Lucius.
Celia tilted her head slightly.
But why was Eleanor making such a fuss about it?
The Duke remained at his seat unless business called him elsewhere. She and he, living as she did in the Eastern Residence, saw each other perhaps two or three times a year at most.
“It doesn’t seem like something that would warrant a private conversation.”
As Celia turned her gaze away indifferently, Eleanor’s movements became more agitated—as restless as a butterfly fluttering its wings.
“The thing is…”
Eleanor trailed off, her fingers at her dry lips.
“My husband—the Duke—seems to believe that Brickwell is responsible for Lucius losing his memory.”
“Are you suggesting the same thing?”
“Celia!!”
The Windmere Family’s way was to make light of everything with barbs, so the words tumbled out before she could stop them.
What was worse, Celia knew that Brickwell was indeed guilty, and she belatedly pressed her hand gently to her lips.
“Ah, that was a slip.”
“You… you really…!”
Eleanor looked at her with exasperation, then buried her face in her hands.
“This is no trivial matter.”
For Celia, the present situation was far from trivial as well.
Eleanor’s face, threatening tears at any moment, had already made her deeply uncomfortable.
“I’ve only voiced a reasonable suspicion to you… only that…”
Anxiety hung plainly on Eleanor’s face.
She seemed unable to judge whether she should speak, or how much to say.
Celia found herself studying her strangely.
“Be cautious. If the Duke—my husband—calls for you, do not go to him. Under any circumstances.”
Before her muddled question could even take shape, Eleanor concluded her words.
“Absolutely not.”

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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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