A Change of Husband - Chapter 58

The meeting had been planned for weeks, but far fewer people attended than usual.

Count Bourbon, who was looking around with a dark expression, spotted Count Mirk arriving just in time and greeted him.

“Oh, you’ve arrived?”

“Yes, I just got here.”

“Um… what about Count Bonaparte…?”

“He said he wouldn’t be coming today.”

At Count Mirk’s reply, the gathered nobles all let out sighs.

Count Bonaparte was a smart man, but not very broad-minded.
It was clear he was holding a grudge because no one had sided with his son during the trial at the Noble Disciplinary Committee.

But before being comrades in the same faction, those gathered here were heads of noble families, responsible for their houses.
They couldn’t Asilie support something that was obviously reckless.

Moreover, Count Mirk, who was essentially the leader of the conservative nobles, had remained silent as well.
With the leader taking such a stance, what more could the others do?

“After such a disgrace, of course he must be upset.”

“What can you do? It happened because he raised his child poorly.”

“Hey now. Watch what you say…”

“What’s the harm? Even Count Bellucci said he wouldn’t be attending for a while.”

While Count Bonaparte had been publicly shamed, Count Bellucci was also not unaffected.
Until right before her marriage to Joseph, Monica had been considered one of the top brides among the nobility.
Count Bellucci’s house had always been flooded with proposals from other nobles.
And Count Bellucci had always been proud of that. Naturally, this blow would be hard for him, too.

“It’s a shame.”

“I fear the relationship between Count Bonaparte and Count Bellucci might be damaged.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t Count Bonaparte disgrace my daughter in public? It would’ve been better to ask for help privately in paying the fine.”

“That’s true. It wasn’t a wise move.”

“To be honest, the whole mess started because the young master made her give false testimony.”

“Let’s not keep talking about what’s already done. Besides… I actually think this might be for the best.”

“What do you mean, ‘for the best’?”

“I mean the succession issue in the Bonaparte family. Isn’t Lord Geoffrey much more suited to be the head of the house?”

At Count Amaes’ words, the gathered nobles nodded.

Among the younger conservatives, Geoffrey had been gaining a strong reputation.
Normally, the eldest son would inherit the family title, but it wasn’t a hard rule.
There was a strong chance the Bonaparte successor might change.

“It’s hard to predict what will happen.”

“Things will go as they flow. Considering the current need for capable people, it may not be such a bad outcome.”

“What kind of…”

The other nobles stirred at Count Bourbon’s words.

He knew not everyone agreed with him, but Count Bourbon continued speaking.

“Lately, the young nobles in the progressive faction have been pushing forward.
Just look at their recent proposals to revise the diplomatic and trade policies—they’re moving aggressively.”

“That’s true. Everyone’s focused on the trial, but the real problem is that funding from Counts Bonaparte and Bellucci is going to stop for a while. We need to be ready.”

“This is turning into a headache.”

“They never used to act so boldly… Something feels off. Maybe they’ve noticed something.”

At those words, the nobles fell silent.

After a brief pause, Baron Oleso suddenly shouted, as if in a panic.

“That’s impossible! Don’t say such dangerous things!”

“Y-Yes! How would they know anything?”

“Well, who can say? After all, there are no secrets that last forever.”

Watching their anxious faces, Count Bourbon slowly turned his head.
His gaze stopped on Count Mirk.

“What do you think, Count?”

As if he had expected the question, Count Mirk smiled calmly.

“Well, who knows.”

“…”

“Do you think I have a clever solution? Right now, I’m just lying low, watching how things unfold.
Rushing won’t magically bring a solution.”

“But we can’t just sit and do nothing.”

“For now, that might be best. Once we see how the progressives move, we can prepare to cut off their breathing room.”

Count Mirk wasn’t optimistic either.

In truth, Esperad’s recent actions had changed noticeably, and the progressive nobles, who had once been cautious, now charged forward like beasts.

But that was exactly why they needed to be careful.

“I know what you expect of me. Many of you are waiting for me to cut off the king’s life and take his place…”

No one here knew of his hidden weaknesses.
That’s why they couldn’t understand why he was letting Hort live.

“I’m not fully prepared yet.”

“If the Duke and Duchess of Camédici have a child before then, everything will fall apart.”

“It’s impossible to hide a pregnancy. And even if one happens, there’s still time before the birth.
Not that I’d ever let it reach that point.”

There was no point in continuing the conversation.
Lately, the group had subtly begun criticizing his passive attitude.

So Count Mirk decided it was time to leave.

The reason the conservative nobles were growing divided was their fear—but even he didn’t have a perfect solution.

And Esperad had been acting strangely lately.

He was clearly watching him, so now wasn’t the time to take risks.

“I’ll take my leave now. Since we just had a trial at the Noble Disciplinary Committee, I advise everyone to act with care.”

As he stood, Count Mirk recalled the moment in the courtroom when his eyes met Esperad’s—those piercing blue eyes that stared him down.

As always, the discomfort of meeting his gaze left Count Mirk’s nerves on edge for a long time.

The horrible feeling of defeat tormented him.

He had never suffered such humiliation in his entire life.

It all started because of that woman.
If only that vulgar country girl hadn’t provoked him that day!
Then, he wouldn’t have ended up in such disgrace—the one once called the prince of high society, now dragged through the mud.

Everything made him angry.
Being forced to leave the capital.
Having to pay an enormous fine.
And the woman he proudly married, thinking she was the flower of society, turned out to be vulgar trash!

But the worst part was that his wife’s impure past had been revealed in front of everyone.
He was so ashamed he couldn’t bear it.

Knock, knock—
“What now?!”
Crash!
“Kyah!”

As soon as he opened the door, a flower vase flew past, making the maid who had come to call him scream and fall to her knees.

“I said, what is it?”
“M-My lord, your father is calling for you!”

“My father?”
Joseph frowned and walked toward the young maid.
As he got closer, she trembled with fear and bowed her head deeply.

“Yes, my lord.”
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know exactly, sob…”

Unable to hold back her fear, the maid burst into tears.
She knew no one would protect her even if Joseph, a noble, harmed her for no reason. That made her even more terrified.

Lately, Joseph’s cruelty had driven the Bonaparte estate’s servants into deep fear.
Just yesterday, a ten-year-old servant had been severely beaten just for failing to greet him properly.
Having witnessed that, the maid had every reason to be terrified.

Looking down at the crying maid as if she were nothing, Joseph let out a short laugh.

“Fine.”
“P-Pardon?”
“You’re better. Better than that whore who pretended to be pure before the wedding but slept with every man she could find! Come to my bedroom tonight.”

With a smirk, Joseph turned and headed for his father’s office.

When he entered, Count Bonaparte was waiting for him with a grim expression.

“I heard you called, Father. What’s the matter?”
“There’s been a notice from the Noble Council.”
“A notice? What kind?”
“They’ve informed us of the date you must leave.”

Only then did Joseph realize what it meant, and he bit his lip.
When the verdict was read in court, it hadn’t felt real. But now, hearing the exact date made it painfully real.

“…When?”
“Ten days from now.”
“Understood.”

“What about your wife?”
“My wife? What wife are you talking about?”

As Joseph replied, Count Bonaparte clicked his tongue as if he expected this reaction.

“Fool! No matter what happened, she is your wife now, and you must take responsibility!”

“How could I possibly take in a woman with such a dirty past in a situation like this? Honestly, I can’t even believe the baby in her belly is mine!”

“What’s in that head of yours? She’s the daughter of Count Bellucci! Do you think we would have pushed for the marriage without some certainty? The truth will come out as soon as the baby is born!”

“…I suppose so.”

Just looking at the baby’s eye color after birth would be enough to confirm if it was of the Bonaparte line.
Joseph, who had completely forgotten even that, looked startled as he finally understood.

“Still, I just can’t accept a woman who shamed me like that as my wife.”

“Then what do you plan to do? Didn’t you make your vows in front of everyone?”

“…I need time.”

“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I won’t go to the estate with her. If I don’t see her face, maybe I’ll calm down.”

Count Bonaparte’s expression twisted in displeasure.
He had already had a tense argument with Count Bellucci over Monica’s fine.
Even though she had brought disgrace, she was still Bellucci’s daughter.
Count Bellucci had made it clear—if his daughter was mistreated, he wouldn’t stay silent.

If Joseph left for the estate and abandoned her in the capital…

“What about the baby?”
“Since she’s about to give birth, she should stay in the capital.”

“Then you might not see your child for three years.”

“That’s not my fault! It’s the situation that turned out this way!”

As Joseph shouted in anger, Count Bonaparte shook his head.
He was his own son, but there really was no hope.
If he acted like this even in front of his father, how much worse would he be toward his wife?

No matter what shame she had brought, Monica was carrying a Bonaparte child.
Count Bonaparte had no intention of abandoning her.
And seeing how Joseph was behaving, it might be better to leave Monica in the capital anyway.

“…Fine. Go alone.”

“What about her?”

“Like you said, she needs to stay here for the child. Once the baby is born—if you want—we can send her back to the Bellucci estate.”

“That would be best.”

Hearing Joseph’s firm response, Count Bonaparte sighed and shook his head.
He already knew, but Joseph was far too immature.

“Fine.”

“Also, Father, I have a request.”
“A request?”
“Yes.”

Joseph spoke with a pitiful face, almost begging.

“There are only ten days left before I go to the estate and won’t return for three years. There’s something I want to do before then. So… could you spare me about 100 gold?”

Count Bonaparte no longer even wanted to speak to him.
He wondered if Joseph truly didn’t grasp the situation, or if he was just showing one pathetic side after another.
He let out a deep sigh and nodded.

“I’ll send it through Gilbert.”
“Thank you, Father.”

Joseph bowed deeply, then walked out of the office, cheering inwardly.

“Even if I have to leave, I won’t go empty-handed.”

No matter how much he tried to control himself, he couldn’t forgive the woman who had brought him to this point.
And her husband—the Duke of Camédici—was just as unforgivable.

Joseph thought he couldn’t be the only one to lose everything.
He was leaving the capital in ten days anyway.
So it would be fine to leave behind a horrible, unforgettable memory.

“I’ll make her regret ever messing with me.”

Joseph clenched his fist and smiled coldly.

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