The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 70

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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 70

Clara spoke with a forced smile.
“Expecting love is too greedy. I just need to stop caring about my husband’s affairs with other women.”
If I could manage that, I could live a comfortable life for the rest of my days. Like any other noblewoman.
Artia regarded Clara with eyes full of pity.
‘No matter how excellent his circumstances, I could never consider a man who commits infidelity to be a decent husband.’
Yet in Nobility Society, such a flaw was something one could overlook.
Many didn’t even consider it a flaw at all.
Above all, though I had broken through barriers myself, divorce remained nearly impossible for most.
I had no intention of forcing such a thing upon Clara, an ordinary noblewoman. But…
‘I don’t want this to end with merely listening to her troubles. I want to help her in some way.’
Artia spoke carefully.
“Even if divorce isn’t an option, what if you gave your husband a taste of his own medicine? It’s infuriating to watch him smile happily while leaving his wife’s heart in tatters.”
Clara, who appeared as gentle and harmless as an ant, gasped and covered her mouth in shock.
“What do you mean?!”
Her small, round eyes gleamed with intensity. She looked ready to commit any terrible deed.
“It’s…”
Artia leaned close to Clara’s ear, her gaze sharp as a conspirator plotting treason.
“Infidelity in return.”
Clara leaped from her seat.
“R-returning his infidelity?!”
“Your husband said it himself. To see other men.”
“B-but I have no desire to do such a thing.”
Though her husband was a notorious philanderer, she wished to uphold her marital vows of fidelity.
Artia’s lips curved upward.
“You don’t actually need to see another man. You only need to make your husband believe you’re being unfaithful.”
“…So you’re telling me to pretend to commit infidelity?”
“Yes.”
Clara’s eyes widened momentarily, but her expression soon grew uncertain.
“Would my husband even care if I were unfaithful?”
Baron Shrecks had little regard for marital fidelity. Unless Clara returned home carrying another man’s child, he likely wouldn’t care.
Yet Artia’s thoughts differed.
“I believe there’s a high probability of striking a blow against your husband. Men are creatures who pretend otherwise while harboring petty jealousy in their hearts.”
Clara gazed at Artia with an expression as if she were under some spell, watching her confident demeanor.

* * *

A dark night.
Baron Shrecks arrived at Edenberg Mansion flushed with drink, his shirt collar once again smeared with the crimson lipstick marks of some woman.
“Ah~ what a delightful evening.”
Everything in this world grew tedious with the slightest indulgence, yet why did a woman’s soft skin never lose its appeal?
“Women are wonderful~ Women are the best~.”
Baron Shrecks stumbled into the house, singing in vulgar tones. Yet his wife, who had always greeted him no matter the hour, was nowhere to be seen.
‘How strange.’
I found it rather endearing when she looked up at me with tears glistening in those round, small eyes of hers—her absence was disappointing.
Thinking little of it, Baron Shrecks retired to his chamber and collapsed into sleep.
But when two days passed, then four, then more than a week, even he could not help but notice his absent wife.
At last, Baron Shrecks questioned the Butler.
“Is Clara ill?”
“No, madam is in good health.”
“Then why does she not come to greet me?”
Yet the Butler’s response was peculiar.
The Butler wore the expression of one who had long awaited this moment.
“Master, the truth is that madam has been going out every day. She adorns herself far more elaborately than usual. She remains outside all day, and when she returns in the evening, she appears so fatigued that she retires to her chamber and falls asleep at once.”
“…!”
Baron Shrecks’ meticulously groomed eyebrow rose for but a moment before he let out a soft chuckle.
“That is far better than her sitting about with a melancholy face, waiting for her husband all day. I should like nothing more than for my wife to dress beautifully, go out, enjoy herself, and be happy.”
At the master’s utterly carefree words, the Butler’s expression twisted.
“If it were merely that, I would not be concerned. However….”
“However what? Surely Clara is not meeting with some man?”
I had once told Clara to meet with a man, yet in my heart I believed she could never do such a thing.
How could such an innocent, guileless woman—one who resembled a teddy bear—ever meet with a man?
Yet the Butler spoke gravely, as though divulging a secret that must never be revealed.
“In fact, madam is not merely going out. She exchanges letters with someone nearly every day.”
“It must be some distant friend. She has always had many of them.”
“I too had hoped that were the case. However….”
The Butler withdrew a letter envelope from his breast and extended it.
“This letter arrived for madam today. I took the liberty of intercepting it before delivering it to her.”
“Who told you to do such a despicable thing? Take the letter to Clara at once….”
Baron Shrecks’ words ceased abruptly.
Upon the elegant envelope, written in a distinctly masculine hand, was the name Edward.
Edward.
A name long beloved by the Imperial Family and the Nobility of the Empire—and curiously, among those bearing the name Edward, an unusually high proportion were devastatingly handsome.
Thus the formula “Edward = handsome man” had taken root, becoming the name most thrilling to women and most vexing to men.
‘Why in blazes is that wretched name written here?’
Baron Shrecks might have questionable notions of fidelity, but he was no scoundrel who would read his wife’s letters without permission.
Yet in this moment, he found himself compelled to open the envelope.
The letter paper, which carried a subtle mint fragrance, bore a masculine script with lengthy prose written in the same hand as the envelope’s address.

“If cake were born as a person, wouldn’t that person be you? You are forever sweet and gentle, and you always set my heart aflutter.
…When I think of you, I smell something burning. The scent of my heart ablaze.
…Do you know what dwells within my chest? A heart? No. It is you who resides there.”

Damn it, what is this?
Baron Shrecks nearly tore the letter to shreds.
Mere lines of prose from a man whose face he’d never seen ignited such murderous rage within him that he could scarcely contain it.
The Butler, observing his master’s unsettled expression, spoke with a trembling voice.
“According to the Maid, whenever Madam read this letter, her cheeks flushed like roses and she smiled radiantly. This is no ordinary correspondence, is it?”
He could not bring himself to deny it.
Baron Shrecks, who habitually wore a slack expression and smiled carelessly, felt his face flush crimson with heat.

* * *

Clara’s eyes widened as she stepped into the house after her outing.
Baron Shrecks stood in the Entrance Hall with his arms crossed.
“My goodness. You didn’t go out?”
“No, I did not.”
“How unusual. You go out every day like a dog that suffers if it doesn’t take a walk, yet here you are.”
Clara answered with an indifferent expression and moved to pass her husband, but Baron Shrecks frowned and caught her arm.
“And what is the meaning of your appearance?”
Baron Shrecks scrutinized his wife from head to toe.
His elaborately adorned wife bore little resemblance to her usual innocent, bear-like demeanor. …She was utterly captivating.
‘Her face was always beautiful. It’s simply that she doesn’t usually dress up.’
Clara possessed a gentle countenance that seemed to proclaim “I’m a good person,” yet she was hardly a great beauty. Nevertheless, to Shrecks’ eyes, she appeared quite alluring. Unaware that this perception was his alone, Baron Shrecks continued.
“Where have you been, dressed up like this?”
“I met with friends and had a conversation.”
“Which friends?”
“I have friends.”
“That’s precisely what I’m asking—who are these friends?”
“I’m telling you, I have such friends.”
Irritated by his wife’s uncharacteristic refusal to answer straightforwardly, Baron Shrecks withdrew the letter envelope from his breast pocket.
“Edward?”
Clara’s eyes widened before her brows furrowed.
“Did you really read a letter addressed to me?”
“That’s not the issue at hand. Answer me first—did you meet with Edward?”
“And what would you have me do about it?”
Baron Shrecks’s expression crumpled as though he’d been struck by his wife’s sharp retort.
Clara spoke with exasperation.
“Why do you make that face? You were the one who suggested I meet other men if I grew bored.”

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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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