22.
Divorce.
It was a logical condition, yet it brought Anita no sweetness.
If anything, it sounded like a demand Lancelot was making, using her as leverage.
*This marriage is one of necessity, through and through. I have no intention of being tied down by you, and even less intention of loving you.*
The thought left a bitter, lingering taste.
But….
*‘At least he didn’t propose out of pity.’*
Given Lancelot’s nature, she had feared pity would be his primary motive; having it confirmed otherwise felt vastly different.
His proposal was not a charity.
He needs me.
We can be a source of strength for one another.
And above all else.
*‘I might be able to find my father.’*
These premises ignited an unprecedented sense of purpose within Anita, who had been adrift since losing her home and family.
“…It seems the choice has already been made.”
After a steadying breath, Anita gripped her hands together and spoke.
“Alright. I’ll do it. Let’s marry.”
A wave of regret followed instantly. *W-was I too quick to agree?*
Embarrassed by the sudden volume of her own voice, she hurried to continue before Lancelot could react.
“But what if the Duke doesn’t approve? Can we really push this through on our own?”
Lancelot stared at her blankly. Then, he handed her a large bag that had been resting on the seat.
“These are your clothes. They were prepared in a hurry, so they might be a bit loose, but change into them before we disembark.”
Clothes?
She wondered at the suddenness, but then—
*‘These are mourning clothes.’*
Once she confirmed the fabric was deep black, she felt a sinking dread.
“Is something wrong?”
“Something wrong? Yes, there is.”
He added, voice devoid of inflection.
“The Duke of Edenbahir passed away at noon yesterday.”
“What?”
Anita wondered if she had misheard.
But Lancelot was not the type to toy with her through tasteless pranks.
*‘The Duke….’*
The Duke had passed away.
Missing and dead were two distinct states. Anita could still cling to the hope of her father’s survival, but Lancelot had been denied even that grace.
He tilted his head, watching her with eyes that seemed baffled by her reaction.
“That look again?”
“Lancelot.”
“It is my birth father who died, not yours.”
“I know. I don’t know what to say, but….”
As if silently prompting her to fill the void, Lancelot stood motionless.
She knew he had no use for comfort. Yet, she felt a desperate urge to offer it.
“The Duke… must have been very proud to have you as his son.”
“That’s cliché.”
The remark was simple, yet stripped of mockery.
“I feel nothing about my father’s death. Sadly, for all his efforts… I suspect I will feel no emotion for the rest of my life.”
Lancelot’s brow furrowed slightly. Unless she was mistaken, he seemed to regret the confession the moment it left his lips.
Regret. It was a word that didn’t suit him, yet it was there.
“Though, you alone seem a little different.”
*Different? Me?*
Her heart fluttered. Even knowing it was likely lip service, her heart had reacted before her mind could intervene.
*‘Even if it is just a pleasantry, it’s better than nothing.’*
She knew she should be grateful, but Anita was no fool.
She had eyes and ears. She had known for a long time that, to Lancelot, she was no different from anyone else.
***
Anita persuaded Lancelot to let her depart the train before it reached Shavalon Station.
If the Duke’s death were true, the station would be crawling with reporters waiting for Lancelot.
*‘There’s no need to get off together and create unnecessary drama.’*
Lancelot, however, seemed inclined to lean into the attention.
“Our marriage is better off being as noisy as possible. The more public notice we garner, the harder it will be for the Grand Duchess to cast you aside. The nobles of the Callasgo Trust will also feel somewhat reassured.”
It was a sound strategy, but it wasn’t what Anita needed right then.
“Um. I think I need some time to gather my thoughts.”
“Why on earth would you need that?”
“It’s not ‘on earth’ to me.”
To Lancelot, their marriage was a means to an end; for Anita, the weight was different.
Since the union was predicated on divorce, she could not afford to lose her footing and succumb to greed. She needed to sort out her feelings for him.
“Fine. How long?”
“One day. No, half a day is enough.”
“Can you really do it in a day?”
“Yes.”
Anita boarded a carriage bound for the heart of downtown Shavalon, accompanied by three attendants.
Lancelot had intended to keep Jill with her for safety, but she adamantly refused. If a keen-eyed reporter spotted them, the scrutiny would only become more suffocating.
The first place she visited was not the Duke of Edenbahir’s estate, but a labor agency.
But a problem awaited.
*‘What’s happened here?’*
The agency, which had been bustling only yesterday, was completely hollowed out overnight.
Anita asked an elderly man running a flower shop next door.
“Excuse me, may I ask? Did the agency move?”
The old man exhaled a thin trail of cigarette smoke and shook his head.
“Move? They went bust, if you ask me.”
“Bust?”
“The inspector came by last night and hauled them off. Fraud, human trafficking… seems they were into all sorts of evil.”
If an inspector had intervened, it was a felony.
*‘I thought they were reliable because Vlad introduced them.’*
So he really had just pushed her toward anyone available. She felt a hollow ache.
“The rumors were bad. They say they saddled innocent women with debt and sold them off… tsk, tsk. They lived like dogs, so they got what was coming to them.”
“I see. Thank you.”
She bought two bundles of white lilies, handing over enough coin for four.
“Hm? Isn’t the calculation a bit off?”
“Please, just take it. It was money I owed the director anyway.”
With the owners in custody, they would never see the light of day again.
Anita left the shop with the lilies in her arms. It was a dismal irony that she would be offering these flowers to the Duke of Edenbahir.
“It’s been a while, Anita Boellony.”
Since when had it been there?
An antique, new-model carriage was idling in front of the building. The sharp voice of an elderly woman from within made Anita freeze.
“You’re still wandering around looking unrefined as ever.”
The tone was rife with hostility. Anita recognized the voice at once.
“Grand Duchess.”
“Get in. I have something of great importance to discuss with you.”
She could guess the business.
*‘It must be about the marriage.’*
She was curious to see what new insults the woman would conjure, but she had no intention of listening quietly.
“I have something to tell you as well. It would be better if we took separate carriages, so I’ll see you at the estate. I have to meet Lancelot.”
“How ill-mannered, making demands of your elders.”
A voice as cold as frozen earth rebuked her.
“I knew your upbringing was lacking, but to think you’d be the same even as an adult. Do you think I don’t know that carriage is the property of our house?”
“As expected, Grand Duchess, there isn’t a thing you don’t know regarding Edenbahir. To memorize every single carriage in the family’s possession… I will be sure to emulate your thoroughness.”
Before more words could be traded, she climbed into her carriage.
*‘This is the first time I’ve ignored the Grand Duchess to her face.’*
Perhaps that was why her heart was pounding so violently against her ribs.
It didn’t take long to reach the estate. Every time the carriage turned, she saw the Grand Duchess following.
Anita, watching silently, made a request to the driver as they neared the front gate.
“I’ll walk from here.”
“From the front gate? There are many reporters. You’ll be inconvenienced.”
He was right; the entrance was swarming with people tracking the news of the Duke’s passing.
These were the very people she had hoped to avoid.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
“That is exactly what I wish for.”
If she were to become the Duchess of Edenbahir, she could not hide from the Grand Duchess forever.
“Anita Boellony?”
The reporters recognized her and swarmed like a pack of hounds. It was a madness that might have seen her trampled had she not had an attendant to clear a path.
“Ms. Anita Boellony! Is that black attire meant to pay tribute to the former Duke of Edenbahir?”
“Of course. It is such sad news. The Duke was a very close friend of my father’s. He was like family to me.”
“Isn’t Sir Vincent Boellony also missing? Don’t you find it suspicious that both founders of the Callasgo Trust passed away around the same time? Could this be the work of rivals?”
“My father has not passed away. Please be careful with your words.”
Not far away, she heard the rhythmic drumming of hooves.
She didn’t need to look back to know the carriage. Anita raised her voice, ensuring it would carry clearly toward the approaching vehicle.
“As for the disappearance of Sir Vincent Boellony, do you really know nothing about—”
“I know nothing. I am continuing to search for my father’s whereabouts. My heart is breaking as such unfortunate events continue to occur.”
The antique four-wheeled carriage stopped in front of the crowd.
Anita stared at it, speaking in a slow, precise voice.
“I am truly saddened. I had hoped that both of you would be able to attend my wedding to the next Duke of Edenbahir.”