The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 36

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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 36

“…!”
“From the moment we first met, I felt you were different from other women. My heart felt at ease, and I was happy. Then I saw how you protected me from my brother, and I understood it clearly. My own heart.”
Simon dropped to one knee and extended a bouquet of tulips toward me.
It was a desperate proposal.
From Simon’s perspective.
But from my perspective, it was unbearably overwhelming.
Believing that any softened response would only worsen the situation, I answered without hesitation.
“I don’t.”
“…!”
Simon’s gentle eyes trembled violently as if struck by shock.
For a moment, my heart wavered at the sight of this man who always smiled so brightly now wounded, but I refused to be swept away by that emotion and spoke with resolve.
“I have no wish to maintain any connection with you going forward, Simon. I ask that you respect my decision.”
I bowed and left the room.
All of this happened before the tea in the cup on the table had even cooled.
But something astonishing occurred.
Simon came chasing after me. Without even an umbrella, drenched by the heavy rain.
Simon shouted toward my carriage.
“My lady, please give me just one chance. I will do my very best. I will make you the happiest woman in the world!”
Though his figure was as pitiful as that of a tragic male lead, it could not sway my resolve.
Without even looking at Simon, I spoke to the coachman.
“Depart.”
The carriage began to move at once.
Simon chased after the carriage and fell. Covered in mud, he cried out.
“Don’t go, Duchess of Edenberg!”

* * *

Simon opened his eyes.
He lay in a warm bed in a room filled with gentle heat.
Simon blinked slowly, then opened his parched lips.
“Brother….”
Shylock von Rushian, who had been sitting beside the bed, fixed him with a piercing gaze.
“Are you awake?”
“….”
“You’ve been unconscious for a full day. Standing in the rain for so long and drinking alcohol you don’t normally consume—it was inevitable.”
Shylock von Rushian ground his teeth as he muttered.
“If someone as frail as you had died, what would I have done?”
Normally, Simon would have cowered at the slightest sign of his brother’s anger, immediately apologizing profusely.
But now he simply stared blankly at Shylock von Rushian.
Soon, tears welled up again in his puffy eyes.
“What should I do, Brother? The Duchess of Edenberg dislikes me.”
Even in such a state, he was still going on about Edenberg.
Shylock von Rushian found it both exasperating and remarkable.
This was the first time Simon had ever shown such intense interest in a woman.
‘I suppose that’s just how he is. Usually he seems vacant and thoughtless, but once something captures his fancy, he becomes utterly consumed by it. And he won’t rest until he has it.’
He was entirely different from Shylock von Rushian, who remained composed about everything.
Regarding his younger brother with affection (though outwardly he merely gleamed like a serpent), Shylock von Rushian asked.
“You care for Artia that much?”
“Yes, very much.”
Hearing such an unhesitating reply, Shylock von Rushian recalled Artia, whom he had seen days ago.
She was nothing like his usual preference.
Vague, plain, with no coquetry or allure whatsoever.
Yet the sight of such a delicate woman—one he could snap with a single hand—carrying herself with such fearless confidence was rather….
‘Intriguing.’
But that was all.
Not enough genuine interest to covet a woman his precious younger brother had set his heart upon.
Above all, Artia was the woman he had already decided would be his brother’s wife.
‘Though the Edenberg name may not carry the prestige it once did, it is still Edenberg.’
For the Rushan Family, who possessed only wealth, she was the most desirable marriage prospect.
The fact that Simon desired her so intensely was a fortunate turn of events.
Shylock von Rushian wiped the tears from Simon’s wet cheeks and spoke.
“Stop. No more crying, Simon von Rushian.”
“Sob….”
“I will make Artia yours.”
“…!”
Simon, who had been sobbing like a broken doll, suddenly lifted his head and stared at Shylock von Rushian.
Finding his younger brother endearing, Shylock von Rushian tousled Simon’s soft hair.
“I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted, haven’t I, brother?”
Gray eyes behind the spectacles gleamed with sudden intensity.
It was the gaze of an older brother who despised his younger sibling, and the predatory stare of a ruthless businessman who had explosively expanded the family’s enterprises the moment he became patriarch.

* * *

Simon’s relentless barrage of gifts had ceased. Catherine lamented the loss with theatrical anguish, but Artia felt relief wash over her.
‘My message must have gotten through.’
Though the final exchange had been awkward, at least matters were settled—and for that I was grateful.
Having erased Simon from her thoughts, Artia turned to Bibi with a question.
“The house is quiet. Has Mother gone out again?”
“Yes, she’s attending a soirée at Countess Leblanc’s residence.”
Even when Artia’s father had been alive, Catherine was perpetually occupied.
She adored mingling with society and attended every conceivable gathering held in the Convent.
Returning late into the night, she would often reek of wine as she dispensed endless lectures to Artia.
“Artia, how long will you remain locked away in your chamber, burying yourself in books? You mustn’t live like this. You must dress beautifully and conduct yourself like a flower if you wish to attract a worthy suitor.”
Back then, I had trembled with fear, believing her reproaches stemmed from my own inadequacy.
Catherine would stare at Artia for a long moment before clicking her tongue.
“Your mother died young, your father was indifferent, and now you’re stuck with a stepmother like me… at the very least, you must find a good husband.”
Her voice carried genuine compassion for Artia.
Perhaps that was why.
Why I had come to care for Catherine.
Yet as the distance between Catherine and Benedict widened, our own relationship had grown distant as well.
‘Even if we can’t be like a true mother and daughter, I’d like us to get along.’
After all, she was my only family.
Artia closed the book she’d been reading and picked up the stack of papers piled on the table.
It was the list of suitors Catherine had brought after hearing that Artia would no longer be seeing Simon—she’d been furious, and had thrust the list upon her with fiery insistence.
‘Perhaps I should meet with the suitors again.’
All the men she’d seen thus far had been wealthy but utterly unremarkable, but who knew?
Perhaps there truly was a suitable husband among them.
Artia popped a crisp carrot stick into her mouth and began turning through the pages one by one, each bearing a portrait.
Contrary to her hopes, they were little different from before.
‘This one is far too old, this one has far too many children, this one is far too hairy…’
She was sifting through an embarrassment of excessive men when—
A rustling sound made her snap her head up.
A black cat stood at the window.
“Nabi!”
Artia rushed to the window, still clutching the papers she’d been reading.
She gazed at the black cat with delight, then paused.
The black cat was staring intently at the papers in her hand—the portraits of the suitors.
‘Come to think of it, cats are said to be spiritual creatures. Nabi seems more special than other cats.’
Perhaps she could sense something I cannot perceive.
Artia held the portrait before the black cat’s eyes.
“Nabi, what do you think of this man?”
This fellow—like a pebble on the street that I could see every day and still never remember—what was he?
Artia continued speaking to the black cat, whose expression remained indifferent.
“He’s proposed to me, and I was thinking of meeting him.”
The moment those words left her lips, the black cat’s front paws moved with lethal precision.
Slash! Slash!
In an instant, the portrait was shredded to ribbons by the cat’s claws.
Artia was taken aback.
This was the first time she had ever seen Nabi, who always sat with such elegance, display such aggressive behavior.
“Do you… really dislike him that much?”
“….”
“Well, I felt the same way, actually. He has a kind face, but the rumors I’ve heard about him are dreadful.”
Nabi truly is remarkable!
Artia marveled and presented another portrait.
“Then what about this one?”
Slash! Slash!
This time, even faster than before.
“What about this gentleman….”
Slash!
In the end, every portrait of suitors that Artia had been considering was torn to shreds.
Even those she had thought were reasonably acceptable. All of them.

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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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