The Search for the Duchess’s Husband - Chapter 78

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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 78

Not long ago, when Marigold mentioned that she had reconciled with Cecilia after receiving advice from Artia, I felt a twinge of displeasure.
‘But since Marigold was happy, I let it pass without complaint. Yet now she brings up that name again…’
Frigia made no effort to hide her disappointment, her delicate brows furrowing.
“Has even Marigold been swayed by the Duchess of Edenberg?”
Though the words were spoken half in jest, Marigold nodded without hesitation.
“A little?”
“…!”
Marigold continued, observing Frigia’s expression—as though she had just learned her beloved had taken another.
“I know you don’t care for her much. But it would be a shame to reject someone simply because she carries herself with such confidence about divorce. I hope we might all get along in the future.”
While Marigold’s face remained radiant, Frigia bit her lip as though on the verge of tears.
Marigold lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug.
“If you truly dislike it, I won’t press further. But know this, Your Highness.”
“…”
“I am not your lady’s maid.”
She would not abandon her own preferences merely to appease Frigia’s sensibilities.
“Well then, since Your Highness seems to be in such poor spirits, I really must take my leave.”
Marigold rose to her feet. Dahlia, who had been seated beside her, stood as well.
“I shall take my leave as well.”
Frigia wished to hold them back, yet found herself unable. She no longer possessed the strength to face Marigold with a smile.

As Dahlia left the mansion, she observed Marigold with keen attention.
Having grown up together since infancy, Dahlia knew her friend’s tastes intimately. Marigold adored all things brilliant and beautiful.
People and objects alike.
“The Duchess of Edenberg hardly matches your preferences, does she?”
“True. Her face barely qualifies as beautiful—nothing to marvel at, really. Her impression is as hazy as snow falling in early winter.”
“….”
“But when I saw her up close, those pink eyes sparkled like pink diamonds, didn’t they? Her slender, pale frame looks as though it might crumble with a single touch, and I rather enjoyed it. Her voice is delicate yet crisp—quite pleasant to hear, actually.”
Watching Marigold deliver her enthusiastic monologue, Dahlia’s eyes grew distant.
Marigold laughed brightly and waved her hand dismissively.
“Don’t look at me like that—it’s not a dangerous enough emotion to abandon a wealthy husband for.”
“I understand.”
Marigold adored men. She simply had a nature that demanded she possess whatever caught her fancy.
“In that case, why don’t you fall for the Duke of Edenberg yourself?”
Dahlia attended social gatherings merely to fulfill her duties as a noblewoman; she had never particularly enjoyed meeting people.
Yet she found herself curious about what charm Artia possessed—the woman who had captured Marigold’s fervent attention, which had previously been fixed solely on Frigia.
And how she had managed to establish such a presence in high society in so brief a time.
“I’ll meet with her once.”
Delighted by this unexpected agreement, Marigold’s spirits soared.

* * *

Artia was astonished. Marigold had sent her an invitation.
The contents written upon the luxurious invitation, dusted with gold leaf, proved even more surprising.
“You wish to invite me to a tea party?”
Over the past several months, Artia had cultivated acquaintances with many noblewomen, yet her public standing had not improved.
The image of being ostracized by the Flower Ladies, who dominated high society, weighed heavily upon her.
Many noblewomen hesitated to approach her, and some harbored outright hostility.
Thus, Marigold’s invitation held tremendous significance.
‘If word spreads that I share a friendship with her, my reputation will transform entirely.’
Artia clutched the golden invitation to her chest, her face flushed with anticipation.

A few days later, Artia visited Marigold’s Mansion.
True to a house wealthy enough to earn the nickname “Diamond Count,” the mansion gleamed with dazzling opulence.
‘Gold adorns the ceiling, gold covers the floor, even the window frames are gilded. Even if the diamond mines collapsed and the business crumbled, she could sustain herself by selling the mansion’s pillars one by one.’
It was entirely different from the House of Rushian she had visited before.
Where the House of Rushian had been garishly decorated to flaunt its wealth, this place exuded refinement at every turn, each detail worthy of admiration.
The Reception Room was even more impressive.
Marigold and Cecilia sat within a chamber so resplendent it seemed they occupied the interior of a jeweled music box.
Upon seeing Artia, Cecilia scurried forward and lifted her skirts in greeting.
“Welcome, Lady Artia!”
Artia’s eyes widened at the unexpectedly fervent reception.
Weeks ago, she had encountered Cecilia with a wound on Marigold’s hand, the girl bristling with indignation.
‘I thought she would resent me for the uncomfortable words I spoke to her then, yet here she greets me so warmly.’
Seeing Artia’s bewilderment, Cecilia’s cheeks flushed.
“I showed you such an embarrassing side of myself back then. Please, I beg you to forget it.”
Could it be that Cecilia, too, had another soul inhabiting her like me?
Marigold whispered to Artia, who entertained this reasonable suspicion.
“Cecilia is a fan of yours.”
“A fan?”
“Yes. There are girls who adore you as a hero—the Duchess of Edenberg who parted ways with a husband as demonic as the devil himself. My daughter is one of them. Once she learned you were from Edenberg, this little demon actually showed remorse. She said that if you were stern enough to scold her, she must have truly done something wrong.”
At this unexpected revelation, Artia’s pale cheeks flushed as rosy as a summer peach.
“What an infinite honor that is.”
Bowing to meet Cecilia’s eyes, Artia presented a beautifully wrapped box.
“Since this is my first visit, I’ve prepared a small gift.”
“Wow!”
Cecilia opened the box with barely contained excitement. Inside lay three items.
A golden necktie, a golden hair ornament, a golden ribbon.
“They’re a fashionable set these days. They look quite lovely when families wear them together on outings.”
Cecilia did not grimace at the thought of wearing the same color accessories as that beautiful, extravagant lady.
How could she possibly object?
These were gifts from Lady Artia herself!
“Thank you so much! I’ll treasure them for the rest of my life!”
Marigold’s expression brightened as well.
She had not dared attempt it, fearing Cecilia would dislike it, but these were items she had long wished to purchase for her daughter.
“Thank you.”
At the mother and daughter’s sincere gratitude, Artia smiled shyly.
“I should be the one thanking you. I was truly delighted to receive your invitation.”
There she goes again, speaking with such unladylike candor.
Utterly captivating.
The moment Artia’s eyes softened in that gentle curve, Marigold could restrain herself no longer and spread her arms wide like a shark that had spotted prey.
Yet her hunt would not succeed.
It was because Dahlia had just entered the Reception Room.
The moment Dahlia—with her dark hair and eyes—appeared, the warm and cheerful atmosphere of the Reception Room transformed instantly into something as solemn as an academic conference hall.
Cecilia, more perceptive than anyone else to this shift, waved her hand.
“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave. Duchess Artia, please do visit again whenever you’d like!”
Artia waved back in farewell to Cecilia.
The moment Cecilia left the room, Marigold burst into laughter.
“Cecilia was being so stubborn about wanting to have tea with the Duchess of Edenberg, and now that you’re here, she’s fled as if nothing ever happened. My friend truly is remarkable.”
Dahlia had never done anything to warrant it, yet the children had always disliked her.
Dahlia bowed to Artia with an expressionless face that showed complete indifference.
“I offer my greetings to the Duchess of Edenberg. I am Dahlia von Greg.”
I felt it even when we met at the Masked Gathering—this woman possessed a severity that seemed to permit not even the slightest deviation from propriety.
Despite the tension I felt, as though standing before a tiger’s den, I managed a bright smile.
“I am Artia von Edenberg. It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Greg.”
My greeting was as warm as a spring day, a stark contrast to Dahlia’s cold, wintry salutation.
Watching the two of us, Marigold’s eyes gleamed with interest, as though she were witnessing an entertaining spectacle.
Ah, this is getting juicy.

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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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