No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 103

Trying not to show how uneasy I was, I took my seat among the honored guests. It was the bride’s side, technically—but even for a small wedding, it was obvious that Viscount Damier’s guests far outnumbered Margaret’s, nearly two to one.

Baron Artois’s direct relatives were seated together like strangers, making no effort to acknowledge Margaret as family.

The rest of her side had been filled by people the Viscountess had invited herself. Judging by their demeanor, they weren’t here to celebrate Margaret—they were here to get closer to me.

“Lady Cecilia.”

I had barely sat down before I was surrounded by strangers. But then, I spotted a familiar face and greeted her politely.

“Josephine.”

She hadn’t changed much since the last time I saw her.

It was strange that Josephine had come to the wedding when Marchioness Federica and her usual circle had not.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Really? I came because I knew you would be.”

As soon as Josephine appeared, the crowd that had buzzed around me like vultures backed off instantly.

Now that the Queen’s influence in society was growing, Josephine—being Marchioness Federica’s closest friend—had become even more powerful by association.

“I was the one who first suggested to Federica that she consider introducing Lady Margaret to Viscount Damier,” she said.

I’d assumed Ricardo had orchestrated it all. Curious, I looked around the room, searching for him, the man who always took credit for everything, even things he hadn’t done.

“Lord Ricardo—or should I say Sir Ricardo now—did warn us, of course,” Josephine added with a hint of amusement. “He said Lady Margaret called herself your friend, but that a mere baron’s illegitimate daughter would only bring you trouble.”

“Sir Ricardo should really mind his own business.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Josephine smiled, clearly aware that I was sidestepping the truth but choosing not to press.

“I’ve met Lady Margaret several times. Isabelle was quite fond of her. And after speaking with her myself, I could see why. She’s refreshingly honest and unpretentious—rare qualities in our world. I had hoped we could arrange the marriage before your divorce was finalized…”

I could tell she was apologizing for not being able to help more during my divorce, so I quickly interrupted.

“You did more than enough. You gave me the courage I needed. At the time, I felt like I had no one on my side and was seriously considering just enduring it in silence. But thanks to you, I found another way.”

Truthfully, I had already resolved to divorce long before then—but Josephine’s encouragement had helped me seriously consider using Ricardo in the process.

Of course, even then, I hesitated for a long time before involving him. But eventually, I followed Josephine’s advice to “use what you can”—making her, in a way, my greatest ally.

Now, even if Ricardo had become someone who couldn’t be shaken off by conventional means, I had to admit that he had played a pivotal role in my divorce.

“Well, now you’re free, your friend is in a secure position, and all that’s left is to hear your happy news.”

“My happy news?”

Josephine gestured toward the groom’s side. Ricardo was seated in the honored section, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Why… why is he over there?”

“I heard Viscount Damier personally handed him an invitation. And usually, when someone gives you the invitation, you’re seated with their party. So even if he hates it, Sir Ricardo has to sit over there.”

Now that I looked again, his mood was unmistakably sour. While everyone else chatted and laughed, there was an invisible line around Ricardo. No one approached him.

“Anyway, back to your good news. Naturally, I meant your remarriage.”

“…Remarriage?”

“I thought you and Sir Ricardo were secretly engaged. Aren’t you?”

I quickly shook my head.

“Oh my. I was so certain. I’ve already mentioned it to a few people, you see…”

Josephine trailed off awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. I felt equally awkward.

Engaged to Ricardo?

Even before the divorce, I avoided being seen in public with him to keep rumors at bay. And after the divorce…

Well, after the divorce, he had been far more brazen.

He’d danced with me and only me at the debutante ball. Served me like a personal attendant in front of the Queen’s guests.

“Everyone who visits the Queen starts gossiping afterward—saying that Cecilia barely finalized her divorce before getting entangled with an eligible bachelor. So I just told them, ‘Lady Cecilia is unmarried now. If that young man is Sir Ricardo, then they’re already as good as engaged.’”

I suppose Josephine had wanted to redeem herself, since she hadn’t been able to help with my divorce as much as she’d hoped.

“The Duke hardly even listens anymore where Ricardo is concerned. And you’re the only remaining direct heir to the Rosette family. Sure, your fifth cousin is handling some estate affairs, but he’s not in any position to influence your marriage. So if your feelings for each other are mutual, why not consider it already settled?”

Her reasoning wasn’t entirely off.

If Ricardo hadn’t gone around misusing the word “accuser” like it was a romantic title, Josephine wouldn’t have jumped to this conclusion.

I’d explained the dictionary definition to him multiple times—and even gifted him a dictionary once. He had been deeply moved by the gesture, but never admitted he was using the term incorrectly.

“…It’s Ricardo’s fault.”

Josephine clicked her tongue. “He’s just liked every other man—always greedy when it comes to women.”

“He didn’t mean it that way. I think Sir Ricardo understands I don’t plan on marrying him. That I never intended to.”

“You’re still so naïve, Cecilia. Let me tell you something: Men never let grieving women go. They know, instinctively, that a woman who’s just escaped a terrible marriage is the easiest prey.”

There may be men like that out there, but no one knew better than me that I hadn’t grieved the way Ricardo had.

So I wasn’t some easy target. From the beginning, to Ricardo, I was nothing more than his only source of understanding.

Even that was an illusion — one that would quickly fade once I left for Nathan.

If you followed the blame back to the beginning, the greater fault was mine — for wrongly believing that Ricardo was just as broken as I was.

But I knew better than anyone — I was the one who gave him a dictionary — that similar doesn’t mean the same.

“If Cecilia says no, then I suppose it’s not meant to be. Still… it’s a shame,” Josephine said, nodding subtly toward Ricardo.

He was completely ignoring Viscount Damier, who was surrounded by an endless line of well-wishers.

“I used to feel bad comparing anyone to Cecilia, but she’s had a turn of fortune, hasn’t she? Just imagine her as the Duchess of Bastian. Two kids — one the next Duke, the other a Count of Rosette. She’s perfectly set up for it.”

I let Josephine’s dreams drift in one ear and out the other as I tried to figure out why Ricardo insisted on sitting among the guests on Damier’s side, gritting his teeth through it.

Even when people saw him as a disgrace to the Duke of Bastian, he acted like he was still nobility — too proud to care about proper manners.

So sitting there, clinging to etiquette just because Damier sent an invitation? That was strange. It was unlike him.

“Anyway, just think about it,” Josephine said.

“Think about what?”

“You’ll have to get married eventually. And if all men are the same, isn’t it smarter to become a duchess than a countess?”

I couldn’t come up with a decent answer — I was too focused on Ricardo.

By the time a reply formed in my head, the music had already started, announcing Margaret’s entrance.

Standing confidently at the end of the aisle, Viscount Damier suddenly pulled out a bright orange handkerchief and began wiping his forehead.

He didn’t look nervous — not even a bead of sweat — but the bright orange fluttering in his hand drew chuckles from the guests.

Then I saw Margaret, veiled and composed, fix her eyes on that handkerchief as she slowly walked forward, and it clicked: this was Damier’s way of guiding her.

Maybe they had agreed on it beforehand. Maybe not. But thanks to that small gesture, Margaret managed to walk the aisle without pausing awkwardly beside a relative or losing her pace.

As she drew close, Damier quickly tossed the handkerchief aside and stepped forward to take her hand.

I clapped just as she had hoped I would.

I don’t know if what I felt was genuine, but I was happy for her small victory. At the very least, the applause wasn’t fake.

After a long and tedious wedding speech, the moment everyone was waiting for finally came: the bouquet toss.

I held back a laugh watching the unmarried ladies pretend to be modest while rushing to stand behind Margaret.

Maybe it was because of the superstition — catch the bouquet and marry within three months — but even the engaged women jostled for the best spots.

“Oh my.”

“Did I see that right?”

“Why is Sir Ricardo… over there?”

It would’ve been absurd for someone like me — already divorced — to fight for the bouquet. So I stayed far back, just watching to see who would catch it.

If not for the hushed gasps of surprise, I wouldn’t have paid much attention.

I had meant to keep talking with Josephine about the gossip, and about the title deeds to Nathan — which had been returned — but Edgar was still delaying the rest of the compensation, and I’d planned to ask her advice.

When I heard Ricardo’s name, I looked over — and there he was, standing among the ladies, ready to catch the bouquet.

Towering over everyone by at least two heads, Ricardo had boldly claimed the best spot.

“He’s not seriously trying to catch it… is he?” I muttered.

Josephine gave a very unsettling answer.

“He looks very determined. Look, Cecilia — he’s using his body to block the ladies in front of him and has his arm stretched way up.”

Margaret noticed too. Naturally, she hurled the bouquet as far away from Ricardo as she could — in the opposite direction.

“Oh, heavens!”

“Someone protect the ladies!”

Some gasped in disbelief. Others rushed forward to help the women Ricardo had accidentally pushed aside in his scramble.

At least he hadn’t completely lost his conscience — instead of shoving people aside, he simply picked them up and moved them.

“Sir Ricardo caught the bouquet!”

Just as someone shouted, Ricardo lifted the bouquet high above his head and shook it proudly.

And of course, he found me immediately — and with those long legs of his, he started closing the distance fast.

“Josephine.”

“Yes, Cecilia?”

“Please tell me he’s not coming over to me. Please.”

“I’d lie for you anytime. Just don’t blame me when the truth comes out.”

Even in the time it took for us to say that, Ricardo was nearly in front of me.

I instinctively stepped back.

“Josephine. Maybe… maybe you should take the bouquet instead?”

“Tempting. Swap my tired, housebound old husband for a young, passionate duke? It is a good deal. But if I have to spend years trying to keep him inside the mansion… no thanks. I’ll pass, sorry.”

And so, I had no choice but to take the bouquet from Ricardo, who knelt in front of me — as if that gesture meant something more when it clearly didn’t.

When I hesitated, caught between accepting and rejecting, he just stood there with a look of pride and joy.

It was then I finally understood: the queen had fully repaired what was broken in him.

The fact that he refused to let me go to Nathan — refused to let me marry anyone else — and decided instead to become my second husband himself, that alone was proof that he’d been healed.

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