My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 76

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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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Episode 76
Chapter 8. Closing In (6)
Why did all these bothersome matters have to pile up at once?
When an invitation to a Reading Recitation arrived from Countess Richmont, who had maintained ties with House of Brickwell for years, Celia furrowed her brow before even reading it.
“Do I really have to go?”
“My lady… the Duke himself asked you to at least make an appearance, surely you remember?”
Damn it.
Celia draped herself across the wingback chair.
She would have preferred to be a lazy waterfowl—standing alone by the shore, eating the occasional fish, basking in the sun, drifting thoughtlessly through life. How pleasant that would be.
‘Though aren’t waterfowl herd animals?’
She had no interest in animals, so she couldn’t say for certain.
There was reason enough not to go. The engagement announcement between Evandor and Chloe for one, and then there were the flower bouquets that had been arriving without fail for days now. With a mountain of things demanding her attention, the last thing she needed was to go listen to some sensitive novelist’s readings.
‘Evandor said Lucius would handle it, so I suppose I’ll take him at his word.’
The real problem was the flowers.
How long could they possibly take to find the sender?
Led by Anne to the vanity, Celia lifted her eyes.
The knights standing sentinel like a wall along one side of the room stiffened their shoulders in unison. They were men Lucius had assigned to her. Though she knew their skill was flawless, befitting those who had once guarded the young duke, Celia found herself delivering reproaches regardless.
“Why do you keep taking payment?”
The knights cleared their throats, eyes darting away.
“I hear you each pocket three times what the other knights make. Yet you can’t manage to catch even one person who leaves things in my carriage? Or is that it—since I’m from House of Brickwell, you’re all just going through the motions?”
Whether the disagreeable servants of House of Windmere took notice of her words mattered little to Celia. Anne giggled, a hairpin held between her teeth.
“If they’d been House of Brickwell knights, they’d have caught them long ago.”
The knights’ glares turned on Anne simultaneously.
Anne showed the good sense to step half a pace behind Celia, turning her head aside as if nothing had happened. She spoke with deliberate innocence.
“But my lady, the hour grows late. If you arrive much later, it will reach the Duke’s ears.”
“I know….”
Celia made a dismissive gesture.
“How tiresome. Southern nobles do nothing but summon people only to read books aloud and play music. I don’t see what’s so entertaining about listening to someone’s lengthy reflections.”
“But you always manage so well at these events.”
“That’s precisely why I can’t afford to stammer through there like an idiot unable to interpret a book.”
And yet, despite her words, she rose from her seat.
A few moments later, the carriage came to a halt before Richmont Estate.
As Celia descended from the carriage, she followed the butler’s dignified guidance inside with measured steps.
‘Southern folk are dreadful enough, though one must admit their taste is refined.’
She had even entertained the thought of relocating to the Southern Region once the divorce was finalized.
The weather was gentler than in the Capital, the gardens lavish, and as long as she avoided an excess of wealthy old men, it didn’t seem like a bad place to live. Though admittedly, that thought had grown a bit hazy of late.
“Please wait a moment. The Countess will come to greet you personally.”
At the butler’s words, Celia tapped her gloved hand against the edge of her fan.
Shortly after, Countess Richmont came rushing out, greeting her warmly and taking both of Celia’s hands in her own.
“Welcome, everyone is waiting for you.”
“I seem to have arrived late.”
“The guest of honor always arrives last, don’t they?”
The pavilion where the Reading Recitation was underway was already filled with people.
“Welcome, Duchess.”
“It’s been so long. How have you been?”
Amid the familiar reception, the Reading Recitation commenced.
The reader, whom Countess Richmont held in particular regard, began to recite an ancient love story in his thin voice. Though it was said to be a polished adaptation of the book’s content, it was by far the worst Reading Recitation Celia had ever attended.
‘I skimmed through it once. But what on earth is this story?’
A man meets a woman and falls for her at first sight. She rejects him, but he clings to her persistently, and after his obsession drives her to throw herself off a cliff, he finally despairs and regrets.
When dawn came the next day, only a single arborvitae tree remained where he had stood, supposedly a testament to love—a promise to gaze upon one person alone even in death.
‘They packaged this as love?’
Unlike her cold reaction, soft sighs drifted up from various corners of the room.
It seemed these people had holes in their heads trying to scrape together some notion of sublime love even within Political Marriages.
‘Disgusting.’
In that moment, a thought struck her: Lucius would never do such a thing.
‘Even if he moves in directions I don’t anticipate sometimes, he’d never stoop to something like that.’
The fact that she harbored such trust in a man she had once hated most was somehow embarrassing, but Celia didn’t linger on the thought.
When the Reading Recitation ended, Celia offered a perfunctory farewell and rose from her seat early.
She couldn’t bear to watch anyone else’s enraptured faces on the way out.
“Oh, my lady! You’re here?”
As Celia climbed into the carriage, Anne handed her a box.
“That item you had me pick up earlier has arrived.”
Anne had brought the Gloves Celia had ordered a few days prior. They were a new acquisition for the autumn season, and she had instructed Anne to pick them up on the way here today.
“Give it.”
She untied the ribbon without much thought.
Once she removed the wrapping and opened the lid, Anne leaned over beside her.
“The color turned out beautifully, didn’t it?”
The deep blue leather gloves with glossy finish polished smooth only across the back of the hand were certainly the ones she had personally chosen.
But atop them lay something unfamiliar.
“……What is this?”
A delicate silver-worked Bookmark rested on the gloves. Beneath an ornamental arborvitae leaf hung a card, which Celia picked up without hesitation.
[A heart that follows to the end—someone calls that love, I’ve heard.]
All emotion drained from her face.
A sentence that seemed to echo the very content of the Reading Recitation she had just attended. This meant the sender knew she had purchased that book before coming to the event.
“My lady…….”
Anne widened her eyes, peering into the box again.
Just then, a small metal piece lodged in the inner fold tumbled out.
A small Cufflink with a blue enamel base and a silver sigil embossed upon it. Anne reflexively picked it up and blinked. When she tilted her head in confusion, Celia extended her hand.
“Give it here.”
“Yes.”
The cold metal rolled once across her gloved palm.
“Unless I’m mistaken… that’s the sigil of House Rowells, isn’t it?”
House Rowells—a marquessate of the Northern Federation Kingdom. And that was also the house of Fahrenheit, who had once been a potential suitor of hers.
“This cursed…!”
A low curse escaped her, and Anne squeezed her eyes shut as if awaiting her doom.
She recalled what Lucius had said before.
“Because he harbors feelings for you.”
That interpretation, which she had found repugnant at the time, came back to her now. Fahrenheit had been behind all of this because he had feelings for her?
“Ha, haha!”
A hollow laugh escaped her lips.
There had been a time when Celia was quite popular. She harbored no desire to deny that fact. She had been courted frequently, and it was true that many had been drawn to her—whether by her beauty or her station.
But none of them had ever dared to possess her arbitrarily.
Or more precisely, they hadn’t had the audacity to try.
“But you know me, and still you slink about like this?”
Celia looked down in turn at the Bookmark, the card, and the Cufflink that someone had apparently left behind “by accident.”
After sitting silent for some time with her mouth closed, she abruptly spoke.
“Fahrenheit’s birthday celebration—it’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”
“What? Ah…! Yes!! An invitation did arrive.”
“Good.”
Celia closed the lid of the box.
“Send word back. Tell them I’ll attend.”
Anne quietly clasped her hands together.
Oh, Lord Fahrenheit. Why did you have to lay a hand on my beautiful, fierce hunting hound? I do hate you terribly for tormenting my mistress, but I never expected a price quite this steep—though perhaps I did harbor such thoughts, if I’m honest. Still, I’m afraid, and it makes me want to weep.
Anne, pen in hand, offered a quiet prayer.

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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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