The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 166

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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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In Search of the Duke’s Husband – Episode 166

The women’s reactions split into two distinct camps.
“Count Greg’s wife was always so graceful and wise, commanding the respect of countless noblewomen. To think she would write such vulgar fiction—I cannot express my disappointment.”
The women on the opposite side countered.
“Have you actually read the novel she wrote? Yes, the bold descriptions invite misunderstanding, but from the narrative to the prose itself, it’s a masterwork without equal. Learning that she created such a brilliant piece has only deepened my admiration for her.”
Even so, the women’s reactions were relatively restrained.
(Perhaps out of fear of Marigold) they hadn’t dared speak ill of Dahlia openly.
But Dahlia’s birth family and her husband’s family were another matter entirely.
The elders of both houses, who had served in government for generations and prided themselves on integrity and dignity, felt not mere disappointment but betrayal.
“My good daughter writing such shameful prose… I’m so embarrassed I can no longer attend High Society gatherings.”
“I was delighted to welcome a daughter-in-law of such intellect, yet this is what has come to pass…”
Standing silently as the barrage of criticism rained down, Dahlia’s eyes widened.
Her husband, Count Greg, had stepped in front of her.
As if to shield her.
“Dahlia’s work has earned public recognition and wields tremendous influence. It has established unprecedented achievements for both the Greg Family and the Piranché house. Rather than praise such accomplishment, do not condemn it.”
The family elders were astounded by Count Greg’s words—he who had always maintained impeccable courtesy.
“What… what did you say?”
“I shall take my leave now. Do not summon me again if you intend to speak this way.”
With that, Count Greg took Dahlia’s hand and left the Edenberg Mansion.
Dahlia looked at her husband with astonished eyes.
She had thought he would be the most disappointed person in the world.
That was why, after revealing herself as RedLip, she had not properly spoken with him.
Yet he had reacted like this…
Dahlia asked, her bewilderment evident in her voice.
“Why are you taking my side?”
“Your side, my side—what distinction is there? Husband and wife are one body from the start.”
“…”
Dahlia had entered into a political marriage, as was common among the nobility.
Her husband, rigid as a tree, had always treated her with scrupulous courtesy—and nothing more.
‘I thought he held no affection for me at all…’
Dahlia spoke in a voice grown small.
“I thought you would be angry.”
Count Greg’s brow furrowed.
“Why would I be angry?”
“You despise anything that diminishes one’s dignity.”
“….”
In truth, Count Greg had been so stunned upon discovering Dahlia’s secret that he’d lost all composure.
My wife wrote novels?
And not just any novel—that scandalous tale about the Northern Grand Duke’s burning passion that had set the Convent ablaze with gossip?!
Reeling from the shock and having lost sleep through the night, Count Greg made his way to the Bookstore and searched for the book his wife had written.
Yet no matter where he looked, the book was sold out everywhere.
The Shop Owner told him:
“My lord, books by that author are difficult to obtain these days. Even when freshly printed copies arrive, the demand is so overwhelming that competition is fierce. If you’re in a hurry, I’d suggest seeking out a used copy instead. The price will be somewhat elevated, but it’s your best option.”
Somewhat elevated was an understatement.
He’d managed to acquire the book at a price comparable to ancient manuscripts centuries old.
The Burning Heart of the Northern Grand Duke.
The title alone was shocking.
Count Greg, who had never read such a work before, hesitated for a moment before turning the pages. And then….
“Reading that book awakened emotions I’d never experienced before. It felt as though I’d stepped into that world myself—my heart was racing. It was a truly wondrous experience.”
“….”
Dahlia found his words utterly unbelievable.
That stern man who dressed impeccably from head to toe even in the most urgent circumstances—he’d actually enjoyed reading my novel?
Count Greg continued speaking to Dahlia, who had frozen in astonishment.
“To think you created such a magnificent work—you’re truly remarkable, Dahlia.”
“….”
At those brief words, a single tear escaped from Dahlia’s eyes.
Count Greg was flustered by the tears of his wife, who had never once shown such vulnerability until now.
Count Greg withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Dahlia, then turned his gaze away.
It would be improper to witness a woman weeping.
As he gazed up at the innocent sky, Dahlia’s trembling voice reached his ears.
“I’m so happy to hear you say that.”
What expression must she be wearing as she spoke those words?
Count Greg found himself turning back to look at Dahlia without realizing it.
Dahlia was smiling at him through glistening eyes.
At that girlish smile he was seeing for the first time in three years of marriage, the tips of Count Greg’s ears flushed crimson.

‘That night, I spent an evening far more passionate than our wedding night.’
Dahlia recalled the past, concealing the warmth rising to her cheeks as she spoke to Artia.
“I heard Dan helped you purchase the building.”
Buoyed by the theatrical production’s success, the novels sold like wildfire, and Dan’s Publishing House, which held exclusive rights to all of RedLip’s works, reaped enormous profits.
Dan had tightened his belt and painstakingly accumulated enough capital to purchase an entire building outright.
Not in some dim Back Alley, but on a sun-drenched Main Street.
He had even hired five employees in one sweeping recruitment.
Marigold, listening to the story with evident delight, her eyes gleaming.
“If the Publishing House is doing that well, RedLip must have become even wealthier.”
Dahlia did not deny it.
“I gifted each set of parents a Villa, and now they’ve stopped complaining altogether.”
“Indeed, money truly is the best way to silence grievances.”
Dahlia spoke to Marigold, who nodded in agreement.
“Goldjurse is also earning substantial wealth from Snow Diamond.”
“Yes, my husband comes home absolutely thrilled and spends the entire time embracing both me and Cecilia.”
Marigold continued, pulling Frigia into an embrace.
“Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”
Frigia nodded, her face flushing crimson.
Though not quite to the extent of Dahlia and Marigold, Frigia too was earning sums she had never once imagined.
Penelope, seated across from them, spoke with unmistakable envy in her expression.
“You’re all truly remarkable.”
Artia, sitting beside Penelope, spoke.
“Pepe, would you like to work with me?”
Penelope was taken aback by the proposal.
“What kind of work could I possibly do?”
“I’m establishing a new publicity department and seeking dedicated personnel. I think you’d be perfect for it.”
Penelope’s face flushed as she waved her hands in protest.
“I’ve never done anything like that. I don’t know anything about it….”
Frigia interjected.
“I was the same way. But once I actually tried, it turned out to be manageable.”
Marigold added her support.
“When you speak, everyone in High Society hangs on your every word. You possess an exceptional gift for publicity. You’ll certainly excel at it.”
Dahlia nodded in agreement.
Encouraged by the women’s support, Penelope’s courage began to surge.
“Then shall I give it a try?”
Before she could finish speaking, Artia produced a contract she had prepared.
Observing this, the Flower Ladies thought to themselves:
‘The contract collector, Artia von Edenberg!’
It was a new nickname for Artia, of which she herself remained unaware.

* * *

A meeting of the House of Edenberg was convened.
When Artia announced she would no longer simply hand out money, the fury that had been simmering among my uncles lost much of its edge.
What choice did they have?
If they made a fuss, they might not even receive their monthly allowances properly.
‘Indeed, those who hold wealth hold power.’
I felt the weight of money anew as I steered the meeting forward.
As we neared the conclusion of ongoing business and matters concerning the House, Derek spoke.
“I shall attend the Noble Conference as the representative of House Edenberg.”
The Noble Conference.
It was a gathering held once a year where representatives of the thirty Houses that led the Empire convened.
After Artia’s divorce, Crankk had attended as the representative, but since he was now absent, it was natural that Derek, next in the line of succession, would attend.
However, Ian’s expression grew stern as if questioning the logic.
“You’re attending as a proxy for the Duke of Edenberg, so it’s not necessarily a position that requires you to go. I shall attend instead.”
Derek cried out in bewilderment.
“What are you saying? Of course I, as the second son, must go.”
“Come now, don’t strain yourself—a man so weakened he hasn’t even been able to visit Crankk in Prison.”

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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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