The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 3

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

In Search of the Duke’s Husband – Episode 3

People whispered behind Artia’s back whenever they saw her pale complexion.
“What kind of Duke’s daughter looks so washed out? With a face like that, even her fiercest anger wouldn’t frighten an ant.”
They were wrong.
Dignity doesn’t come from appearance—it radiates from one’s entire being.
Moments later, Lirika retreated with a contorted expression.
Artia let out a soft laugh.
‘Like a fledgling, she has an instinct for sensing danger.’
But I couldn’t simply let her leave like this.
Artia spoke with gentle eyes.
“I’ll permit you to leave the room. But this time, do so with proper courtesy.”

* * *

Only after bowing respectfully was Lirika able to leave the room.
Artia recalled Lirika’s expression from just before she departed.
“She looked as though she’d been struck across the cheek by a weed that had been standing still.”
It was understandable.
I had never spoken a harsh word to anyone—not even to the common-born concubine who had taken my husband’s side.
“But that won’t do, Artia. There’s only a hair’s breadth between a fool and a good person.”
When anger is warranted, one must show it.
Properly. Decisively.
Rather than pulling the bell cord to summon a maid, Artia rose to her feet.
Though somewhat dizzy from lying down for so long, it wasn’t severe enough to prevent me from walking.
The maids whispered as Artia walked down the corridor.
“Why has the lady come out of her room? Ever since Lirika entered the estate, she’s been claiming illness and staying confined inside.”
“She fell into the Lake and lost consciousness for days. I suppose her mind still hasn’t recovered.”
“Heh, then it’d be better if she stayed out of her mind. Usually she just stares at the floor without lifting her head.”
Though their voices were low, Artia’s hearing was far sharper than most, allowing her to catch every word clearly.
A blunt voice cut through their mockery.
“Stop it, all of you. That’s no way to speak of your mistress.”
“…!”
Artia turned her head toward the source of the voice.
Among the ordinary maids stood a noticeably taller one with a long scar running down her cheek.
The other maids frowned at her.
“It’s just between us, isn’t it? Do you really need to act so virtuous to feel satisfied?”
“I’m not acting virtuous—I’m simply speaking about the conduct a maid must uphold.”
“You’re unbelievable!”
The maids’ reproachful voices grew louder, but the scarred maid simply resumed sweeping in silence.
Artia watched her for a moment, then lifted the corners of her lips and turned away.
Shortly after, Artia arrived at her destination and opened the door.
Inside the room stood a meticulous-looking maid with her hair pinned up without a single strand out of place.
It was Elma, the head maid.
Elma asked with an irritated expression.
“What brings you here, my lady?”
Her tone was harsh—as if asking why I had come to bother someone who had been resting peacefully.
In the past, I would have been terrified and fled, but now I simply softened my gaze.
“I have something to discuss with you.”
“Then you should have summoned me through another maid, my lady. What noblewoman visits a maid’s quarters?”
“I tried to, but no matter how many times I pulled the bell cord, the maid never came. It seems the head maid has trained the staff exceptionally well.”
“….”
Elma’s expression became identical to Lirika’s from moments before.
The face of someone who had been slapped across the cheek while standing still.
‘It’s too early for that expression yet….’
Artia proceeded directly to the matter at hand.
“How long have you been working at the Edenberg Estate?”
“…Since my lord ascended to the ducal rank, it has been three years now.”
“Three years—you must have saved quite a bit of money.”
Money? Why suddenly bring up money?
Was she trying to boast about paying slightly higher wages than other noble houses?
A pitiful duchess who had been stripped of all household management authority by the head maid?
Artia continued speaking to Elma, whose crooked nose twitched as if entertaining disrespectful thoughts.
“Items smuggled from the Edenberg Estate would fetch a good price from anyone, wouldn’t they?”
“…!”
Elma’s eyes widened.
Her expression screamed: How did you know?!
Artia was astounded.
‘How could she not realize?’
Lloyd, indifferent to household management; Artia, who couldn’t even properly meet the eyes of maids, let alone the head maid. Thanks to both of them, Elma had freely pilfered items—so blatantly that I would have noticed immediately had I paid the slightest attention.
Elma had grown careless precisely because of the negligence of both the Duke and Duchess.
“A proper investigation will reveal exactly how many items you’ve stolen.”
When a maid employed by a noble house stole the noble’s possessions and profited from it, the crime did not end as simple theft.
It carried the charge of insulting nobility, resulting in far harsher punishment than ordinary crimes.
The higher the rank of the family the maid belonged to, the more severe the penalty.
“You stole from the Ducal House, so at minimum your wrists will be severed…. And if we add the charge of embezzling the Ducal House’s funds by examining the ledgers you managed, your neck might be severed as well.”
Artia’s voice carried the tone of someone who’d stumbled upon an amusing spectacle, and Elma’s face went rigid.
Elma forced an awkward smile, her words stumbling over themselves.
“I-I beg your pardon, my lady. Surely you wouldn’t be upset over such trivial matters. You’re such a benevolent mistress, after all.”
Benevolent.
That word—the servants’ favorite epithet for me—was never meant as a compliment.
‘They mean I’m a gullible fool.’
I knew the truth well enough.
Fear of the servants’ judgment had kept me silent, my displeasure locked behind clenched teeth, but what I truly wanted to say was this:
“Call me benevolent one more time, and I’ll rip that wicked tongue right out of your mouth and tie it up with a ribbon.”
“…!”
Elma flinched as though her tongue had been yanked, slapping a hand over her mouth.
The intensity of her reaction was more than I’d anticipated, and my lips curved upward.
‘She’s terrified. Good—this will be easier.’
I hadn’t come all this way merely to interrogate Elma about her crimes.
I had a clear purpose in mind.
I spoke in a soft voice.
“Don’t worry, Elma. If you show me the respect befitting the Duchess of the Ducal House from this moment forward, your tongue and your neck will remain exactly where they belong.”
Crash!
Elma dropped to her knees so forcefully the floor seemed ready to shatter.
There was a reason why a woman stupid enough to be caught by a few coins had risen to become the head maid of the Ducal House.
Elma possessed an uncanny ability to recognize who held power and wag her tail accordingly.
With her head bowed, Elma spoke.
“I shall reflect upon my past conduct and serve you with utmost sincerity, my lady. I humbly beg your mercy.”
I wasn’t fool enough to believe those words at face value.
I had no intention of showing mercy either. And yet….
‘Even a shovel caked with filth has its uses if it can still dig.’
There would be time enough to discard it later.

* * *

It had been worth intimidating Elma.
From that day forward, the maids attending to me underwent a dramatic transformation in their demeanor.
The moment I pulled the bell cord, a maid materialized in my chamber with lightning-swift precision.
“You called for me, my lady?”
“My mouth grows restless. Bring me something to eat.”
“Of course.”
The maid returned with refreshments at remarkable speed.
A transparent glass brimmed with thinly sliced carrot sticks.
I popped one into my mouth, and the satisfying crunch gave way to the carrot’s distinctive fragrance and flavor dancing across my palate.
I shed tears of genuine emotion.
“Delicious…!”
Remarkably, the current me shared many similarities with the true Artia.
For one, we both adored vegetables.
Carrots above all else!
‘I was treated like some rare specimen for loving carrots, yet here I’ve found a kindred spirit….’
Our tastes and preferences aligned perfectly.
Artia’s secret library within her chamber housed roughly a hundred volumes—every single one a thrilling romance.
Sprawled across the plush bed, I giggled as I opened a book.
The title read: The Northern Duke’s Burning Bedroom.
It told of a cold Northern Duke who, sold into marriage to a bride, became so enamored with her that he transformed into a smoldering volcano in her presence alone.
The premise was predictable for this genre, yet my heart raced nonetheless.
‘How blissful it would be to have such a man beside me?’
But reality proved far too cruel.
That bastard—no, Lloyd was my husband.

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