In a Political Marriage, Isn’t It Normal to Treat Your Fiancée Well? - Chapter 14

My first meeting with Lord Albert was during the summer when I was eleven years old.

Lord Albert, mounted on a white horse, was simply wonderful.

Introduced as my brother’s friend, Lord Albert was like a knight from a storybook, and my heart raced.

Lord Albert smiled and said in a sweet voice, “Miss Sophia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His gentle voice made my head spin.

I could only nod in response.

Whenever Lord Albert visited our mansion, my heart would pound.

His golden hair shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight.

His deep blue eyes were clear and whenever our gazes met, my face would instantly grow hot.

And then there was his straight nose bridge and well-shaped lips.

His demeanor was elegant and dignified just like a prince from a fairy tale.

There could be no man greater than him in this world.

Without ever showing a hint of displeasure, Lord Albert always treated me with gentlemanly courtesy, even though I was merely an appendage to my brother.

That remains unchanged even now.

Our communication continues through correspondence.

[“Miss Sophia, how are you? I am doing well.”]

Lord Albert’s letters are always filled with words of concern for me.

[“The weather was fine today, so I went for a long horseback ride. It was a pleasant day. How did you spend your day, Miss Sophia?”]

My heart dances every time I read his letters.

It even feels like I’m receiving love letters.

I must bring this correspondence to an end. After all, I am engaged. But whenever I try to write the letter, I find myself at a loss for words.

Because this correspondence had become my emotional refuge.

And so, unable to bring myself to inform him of my engagement, our letters continued to drag on.

Just because I cannot stop corresponding with Lord Albert does not mean I am neglecting my fiancé, Lord Arslan.

He is the one I must eventually marry.

I am fully aware of my duties.

I also make sure to properly read the letters from Lord Arslan.

However, I still lack enthusiasm.

My handwriting is not particularly good.

Lord Albert praises it as “charming handwriting,” but someone meeting me for the first time would likely not think so.

I have received instruction from my mother to improve my penmanship, even if just a little, but there are no signs of improvement.

My brother told me, “It’s you, Sophia, who will be embarrassed if your clumsy handwriting is seen. It could lead to you being looked down upon during your engagement. In that case, it would be better to have someone write for you.”

He was certainly right.

Fortunately, there were a few maids with good handwriting among the servants, so I decided to ask one of them to be my scribe.

I also attended the monthly tea parties held at our home without ever refusing.

Birthday gifts, seasonal presents.

I accepted everything given to me without a single complaint.

I take pride in my obedient attitude, free from backtalk, as being fitting for a future Margrave.

I wore the mask of a lady and desperately played the role of the fiancée that Lord Arslan desired.

Once married and become a wife, I must then wholeheartedly embody the ‘role of a wife.’

I feel like sighing at the gloomy future, but I swallow it.

No. I must endure.

Having been born a nobleman’s daughter, I must fulfill my duties, even if it means killing my own heart.

That is the fate of being born a nobleman’s daughter.