No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 120

Martha cried until her eyes were swollen red. She wept so much, I didn’t even get the chance to ask why they had come all the way from Nathan without so much as a letter in advance.

Justin, who was in much better shape than his mother, wasn’t offering any explanations either. Instead, he was too busy questioning why Ricardo was kneeling on the Rosette estate carpet first thing in the morning.

“We heard the news. We never doubted for a second that you’d make it through. It’s a shame that bastard couldn’t be sent straight to the gallows, but I suppose he was still a noble, so it couldn’t be helped. As soon as Mother heard what happened, she insisted we come to support you. Honestly, even if Sir Juan hadn’t sent us, we had every intention of returning to your side when the time came. And lucky for us, it looks like that time has arrived.”

Only after teasing Ricardo thoroughly did Justin sit properly and begin to explain.

Meanwhile, Martha kept patting my back and shoulders like I was a child barely seven years old.

Ricardo, now pushed to the side, looked thoroughly irritated by the uninvited guests. But neither Martha nor Justin seemed particularly concerned about him.

“Now that you’re finally free,” Justin continued, glancing sideways at Ricardo, “there’s nothing you can’t do. But… considering how quick-handed His Lordship here is, both Mother and I couldn’t help worrying. You’re a gentle soul, miss, and you’ve already given that other bastard too many chances.”

At the word gentle, Ricardo scoffed. I almost did too—but I couldn’t turn away from Martha’s warm hands, so I forced my expression into something neutral.

Justin raised his voice louder than Ricardo’s scoff and pressed on:

“Men are cunning creatures, after all. They show up bright and early like this, then drag their feet through lunch, and before you know it, they’re asking to stay the night. ‘Just one room, that’s all,’ they say—and then somehow, they’re still around the next morning.”

He made a cheerful mockery of Ricardo in every word, conveniently ignoring the fact that he, too, was one of these cunning men.

With Martha nodding along eagerly at each sentence, the whole scene felt more like a comedy than anything else.

Just moments ago, this had been a heavy, emotional moment—a serious, soul-baring drama between Ricardo and me. But that tension was completely buried under the absurd energy of this comedic duo.

Honestly? Their timing was a relief.

Ricardo had insisted he’d give me time to think, but also that he wouldn’t leave. He was afraid I’d make up my mind without him—and disappear.

Martha and Justin wouldn’t be able to kick him out, of course. But at least I was no longer forced to sort through my thoughts while Ricardo hovered around in my head, dominating every inch of it.

“And let’s not forget the kind of man we’re talking about here. Even when you were married, he wasn’t shy about pursuing you. I remember watching him and thinking, That man is going to cling to her no matter what. Call it a bad premonition.”

Was there something in Nathan’s air or water that suddenly made people braver?

The Justin I remembered was shy, an ordinary young man who used to be more than a little intimidated by Ricardo.

Back when I was still married to Edgar, Justin had treated Ricardo with a strange mix of fear and respect. Even when he helped sneak me off to visit Elodie while Edgar was away, he followed Ricardo’s orders more readily than my own.

“But of course,” Justin went on, “you’re a beloved lady of the Queen now. There’s no harm in keeping a young man or two at your side for comfort. You’re divorced. You’ve got every legal and moral right to explore healthy desires. Still…”

Still… He nodded toward Ricardo. Judging by the way his fingers twitched, if status weren’t an issue, he probably would’ve pointed outright.

“Lord Ricardo—”

“Sir. It’s Sir Ricardo. If you’re going to pretend you came here well-informed, at least get that part right.”

“The young lord of House Bastian—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, drop the young lord thing. You know exactly how I told you to address me.”

“The noble of House Bastian—”

There must be something magical in Nathan’s soil.

Even as the air in the room got increasingly tense, Justin didn’t flinch. He kept cycling through every possible title except the one Ricardo wanted, like he was doing it on purpose.

Honestly, it was more effective than the dictionary I gave Ricardo as a gift.

Maybe I should send Ricardo to Nathan, so he could personally experience the spiritual clarity of the land.

“You’re practically a walking scandal, aren’t you?” Justin said. “Mother and I just want her to find peace. You, on the other hand, seem like the worst possible match for someone trying to live quietly.”

That said, Justin shuffled a little closer to Martha—probably because, even if his words were bold, he was still a bit scared.

Martha, who had been sitting beside me, now leaned in closer too—shielding him with my body, whether she meant to or not.

Despite their tough talk, some habits never change.

Ricardo let out a short, sarcastic laugh as he looked at the mother and son practically clinging to me.

“At the very least, you should recognize that I’m still alive before calling me a walking scandal. I admit I’m not good enough for her. But don’t assume that means other men are.”

So not being “utterly wrong” is the best option now?

I could understand why Ricardo would think like that—he was, after all, head over heels for me. And Martha’s overflowing guilt over Cecilia made it impossible for her to see clearly. But Justin? Did he really have no counterargument?

“I am that slightly-less-bad option,” Ricardo said flatly. “Every other man is worse. Got it?”

“Yes.”

Justin nodded as he said it—but shook his head while doing so. His voice had surrendered to Ricardo’s intensity, but his body still refused to cooperate.

At this rate, we’d be stuck watching this ridiculous skit until the sun went down. Honestly, it was kind of funny.

Thanks to Martha and Justin, I’d finally gotten a moment to forget how heavy my heart had felt.

“Martha. You should’ve sent word. The estate wasn’t prepared for visitors.”

“I’m just your old nanny. The idea of you preparing anything for me—that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Martha, who had been smiling fondly at her son’s bold way with words, was dragged into the conversation at last.

“As soon as I entered the estate, I could tell something was off. I’m not even a guest worth fussing over, but still—no one stopped the carriage, no one checked who I was. And don’t get me started on the maid in charge of hospitality. It was just ridiculous. Now, I’ll never defend that woman, not even on my deathbed—but I have to admit, she did manage the household decently.”

Just when I’d managed to get Justin to stop talking, all I’d really done was pass the baton to Martha.

“Lady Joanna’s been at the Rosette estate for ages. I’m going back to the palace in a few days anyway—why would I bother trying to get in everyone’s good graces?”

“That’s exactly why they’re acting out of line. Because you’re kind. I may be old, but thanks to the Lord above, my eyes and ears still work fine. They think they’re whispering behind your back, but I heard everything. They’re treating you like some gossip fodder now—just because His Lordship keeps showing up and stirring things up.”

Cecilia had been the gentle one. Reading her journal had made me see Edgar for the trash he was, but now it seemed Martha had taken that revelation and built up an image of me—as someone too soft, too generous for her own good.

As if she hadn’t been on the receiving end of my temper before. And not only that—she’d been hurt by it. She’d suffered, quietly, while I kept her at arm’s length, refusing even to call her nanny anymore.

“I know His Lordship’s trying to do something for you,” she said. “But a true man would put the one he loves first and support her quietly from behind. If it were me, I wouldn’t have let the woman I cared about become the subject of gossip in the first place.”

“So, what—you’re telling me to stop making moves on your lady and just get lost?”

Ricardo crossed his long legs and leaned back into the sofa with exaggerated elegance—every bit the smug nobleman.

He knew full well Martha couldn’t actually kick him out. That posture, that attitude—it was meant to remind everyone of his status.

“Unfortunate for you,” he added, “your lady happens to care about me quite a bit. Just before you two arrived, she was preparing to take away my pain. Out of love, no less.”

Well, we had been talking about that. And if my memory served, Ricardo had been fiercely rejecting the very idea. This wasn’t exactly something he could brag about with his usual swagger.

“That’s only because our lady here is too kind for her own good,” Justin cut in. “Now that I’m here, I’ll do my best to stop anything that might hurt her.”

“That kind young lady was planning to exile someone, actually.”

Martha turned to look at me, shocked. If Nathan’s mystical water had made Justin bold, it seemed to have washed all the unpleasant memories out of Martha. She looked at me like I couldn’t possibly have done something like that.

“It’s true, Martha.”

Ricardo gave a triumphant little smile.

“But I refused.”

His grin vanished almost instantly. Now it was Martha smiling.

“Lia. We haven’t finished talking.”

“You already rejected me before we could finish, Ricardo.”

“And I rejected that rejection, didn’t I? Didn’t I say I’d go through with it even if I hated it?”

“That’s not exactly what you said. You said you didn’t want to do it because you were afraid I’d leave you. Has that changed? Did you decide, in just a few minutes, that you’re willing to be left behind as long as it means I’ll solve the problem for you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Ricardo denied it instantly—but his expression showed he regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth.

This man—this fanatic—wanted us to belong only to each other. But the moment Cecilia’s old nanny showed up, putting her affection for me on full display, he couldn’t take it. So he self-destructed.

And it didn’t even seem like he realized he’d done it until it was too late.

It was childish. Petty. Possessive.

But I refused to admit how much that childish possessiveness tugged at something inside me.

I still didn’t know how I was going to deal with Ricardo. But at this point, even if I did handle things with his mother, I doubted I could force my feelings for him to disappear.

So, what was the point of doing it at all?

I asked myself that—and the answer came quickly, as always. I’d already imagined Ricardo’s happiness. As long as his mother had access to him, that happiness would never be real.

“Still… I’m going to do it.”

I hit the self-destruct button too.

Ricardo smiled so brightly it startled me. That rare smile that drove the palace ladies wild—he gave it so freely to me.

“Martha. If you’re not planning to return to Nathan, would you become the head maid of the Rosette estate?”

My cheeks were starting to feel warm under Ricardo’s gaze, so I turned away and changed the subject.

Martha looked between the two of us and sighed.

“I didn’t come here expecting any grand titles… but if my lady needs me, I’d be honored to help—even if it’s just mucking out the stables. You can make use of my son as a stable hand too, if you like.”

She sounded like someone who had once known the pain of watching a hopeless love story. Even if she’d been determined to stop it, she now looked tired and accepting.

Ricardo and I weren’t lovers, but we were bound in a way that felt just as irreversible.

And the thought dried my lips.

Ricardo had said, as long as he was sure I wouldn’t run, all he wanted was for me to accept his affection.

“Sir Juan probably trained you better than that. You’re way too good to be a stable hand. Coincidentally, the house steward position is vacant.”

“I’m fairly sure it’s not vacant, miss.”

“It will be soon. It’s yours.”

I was sure I’d want to run again. My nature—my deeply ingrained habits—wouldn’t just vanish overnight.

But maybe, if Ricardo was there to hold me back, running would only ever amount to a gesture.

My mother would have looked at me—giddy with this ridiculous sense of hope—and called me disgusting, then turned away.

But my mother doesn’t exist in this world.

And I finally realized that.

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