No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 123

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped—at least a little.

Margaret was now Viscountess Damier and had already been chosen to serve as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting once her official honeymoon period ended.

In other words, she had achieved all the goals she was quietly aiming for when she first offered me her friendship.

She later confessed that what she truly wanted was a sincere friend, not ambition. But now that she had everything, she once desired, I couldn’t help but wonder—had her feelings changed?

Back then, Margaret was the illegitimate daughter of Baron Artois, and I was the Countess of Linton.

Now, the roles had reversed.

Even with the Queen’s favor, the stain of being a divorced woman wasn’t something that could be erased as though it had never existed.

If the Queen’s influence continued to grow and she succeeded in raising the future heir to the throne as planned, then perhaps—perhaps—a man ambitious enough to overlook that stain might consider marrying me.

Which was why Ricardo’s anxiety over my remarriage still felt so far off in the future.

Carola’s child hadn’t even been born yet. And there was no guarantee that the Queen’s favor would remain once the baby was safely handed to her, without any complications.

That might also explain why the Queen kept pushing Ricardo toward me. She couldn’t be sure his devotion would last until her power was fully secured.

Everyone’s interests were entangled so deeply that it was hard to tell who was truly on my side and who wasn’t. In a situation like that, the idea of allies and enemies hardly mattered anymore.

The Queen needed me to keep Ricardo in line, and Ricardo needed the Queen to give him a reason to stay by my side.

As for me… the Queen, with her biting words and unapologetic methods, had somehow managed to bring back Ricardo’s sense of humanity. Something I never could’ve done myself.

It was nothing short of a miracle. And for that, I couldn’t help but be grateful.

Even before I became fully aware of my feelings for Ricardo, I already felt indebted to him—and in turn, to the Queen, who had helped bridge that distance. It was like receiving a gift: beautiful on the outside, but for once, just as meaningful on the inside.

If only Ricardo’s so-called devotion hadn’t looked so much like love… I might have celebrated his growth with a pure heart.

“Cecilia, you’re here!” Margaret flung open the carriage door before it had even come to a full stop.

Behind her stood Viscount Damier, smiling helplessly, as if long used to her dramatic flair.

“You shouldn’t make it sound like visiting me is some special perk of being the Viscountess,” I said, stepping out. “Your husband might take offense.”

“If I may, Lady Cecilia,” said the Viscount, ever the gentleman. “I’d much rather have the real Lady Cecilia visit than continue hearing rumors about the ghost of her every day.”

His tone was polite, but the fatigue on his face couldn’t be hidden.

Judging by how radiant Margaret looked, that tiredness didn’t seem to come from newlywed bliss alone. His words felt a little too honest to be dismissed.

“Please, join us for dinner, Lady Cecilia,” he added. “My mother has gone to the palace to see Her Majesty. If she returns and learns you visited while she was away, she’ll be sorely disappointed.”

So, the Viscountess—his mother—was still hard at work laying the groundwork for Margaret’s rise. I could already picture her flaunting Margaret’s virtues in front of the Queen, hoping to secure her daughter-in-law’s future.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” I said politely. “My time off from Her Majesty is limited, and my list of things to do is endless.”

I had already sent word to the Count of Linton’s estate.

I didn’t know whether the Count would be in any state to host a guest, but it didn’t matter—he didn’t need to act like a proper host. I intended to arrive exactly when I said I would, guest or not.

“Then ask Her Majesty to extend your leave!” Margaret pouted, waving her hand as if scolding me.

She never used to do that before marriage. I could only assume it was something she picked up from the Viscount.

“Your husband might let you get away with pouting like that,” I said with a smirk. “But have I ever?”

Viscount Damier cleared his throat awkwardly and quietly slipped away.

A faint blush rose to Margaret’s cheeks.

“As if I couldn’t tease you if I wanted to.”

“You’re welcome to try anytime.”

She was probably thinking about Ricardo. If she teased me about him, that would mean placing him on the same level as her own husband. That thought made her snap her mouth shut.

“Never mind,” she muttered. “I’d rather be the one teased than compare Lord Ricardo and you as a couple. My pride wouldn’t allow it.”

I decided not to ask why exactly the idea of me and Ricardo being “on the same level” offended her so deeply.

“It’s such a warm day,” she said, changing the subject. “I had tea set up on the terrace. It was chilly just yesterday, but it’s as if the weather decided to brighten up just because you came.”

It had been warm yesterday too. I had to wonder about her health—but chose not to press the issue.

“I’m not staying long,” I said. “I feel bad that you went to the trouble of preparing the terrace.”

“Then stay longer. Problem solved. Come on, have a seat.”

Margaret’s terrace looked like a tiny garden transplanted into stone.

It reminded me so much of the one I saw at her wedding that if I squinted and blocked the walls from view, I could almost believe we were outside in a real garden.

The moment I sat down in one of the net-backed chairs, tea was served.

Margaret’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and for a second, I felt guilty about bringing up business so soon.

“Margaret, do you remember Lady Elodie?”

But guilt or not, I was never good at small talk.

Besides, time was short. And if I indulged her cheerful mood for too long, I had a feeling I’d end up staying for dinner—or worse, spending the night.

“Lady Elodie? Of course. The Count of Linton’s mistress, right? I saw her name pop up in the papers again recently. Something about a new performance scheduled?”

Margaret spoke lightly but watched my expression closely.

She’d witnessed Elodie’s pregnancy firsthand, and at the time, my reaction had been… unstable, to say the least.

“She wasn’t the Count’s mistress, not even before my divorce,” I said calmly. “She helped me during the trial, too.”

“Because the child died,” Margaret said quietly. “If the baby had lived, do you really think she still would’ve helped you?”

As soon as she mentioned the death, Margaret made the sign of the cross over her chest. That small act captured the fundamental difference between us.

She could be cynical, yes—but she never lacked empathy.

“I think she would’ve helped me. Elodie went through a lot because of my divorce trial. And yet, even now, the Count of Linton continues to delay not only my compensation but also hers. She’s been struggling just to get by.”

“Cecilia… don’t tell me you came here to talk about how pitiful you and that woman are?”

“Of course not.”

I took a sip of tea.

“I was just wondering if you might be interested in becoming her patron.”

Margaret’s eyebrow arched skeptically.

“Why would I ever be interested in sponsoring someone like her?”

I nibbled on a biscuit, small and slow. They say friendship means taking on your friend’s enemies as your own—but by that logic, Elodie should’ve been my enemy.

Even if she helped turn the tides of the trial by testifying honestly, that didn’t erase the past.

Whether you cover something up or choose to uncover it again… that choice belongs entirely to the victim. And the problem was, I knew all too well that I couldn’t define myself as a victim.

The greater problem was explaining that to Margaret.

“You know I don’t feel anything for Edgar anymore, Margaret. I see Lady Elodie as another victim. We were both used by the Count of Linton—but I came out of it relatively unscathed, while she had to move to the old quarter just to survive.”

“Sometimes, Cecilia, I just don’t understand you.”

Margaret sighed and turned her gaze out to the large garden beyond the terrace.

“It’s that ability to see people without prejudice that made me like you in the first place… But to show sympathy for your ex-husband’s mistress? Edgar betrayed you. He broke his sacred vows. And she’s the woman he did it with.”

She looked at me as though she were seeing something alien. Something unfamiliar, something she couldn’t name.

Before Ricardo, I used to hate that look. It made me distance myself from people first, before they could pull away.

I always thought that the more people came to know me, the more they’d naturally leave. So I avoided forming close bonds altogether.

But thinking of Ricardo still at the Rosette estate made Margaret’s stare a little more bearable.

“Lady Elodie chose to return to the stage because of me. I pushed her into it.”

“Why?”

“Because the Count of Linton kept hiding, refusing to pay what he owed. To punish him, I couldn’t let the world forget him. If Elodie’s popularity keeps rising, even Edgar won’t be able to hide forever.”

Margaret still looked at me like she didn’t recognize me.

“But Cecilia, it’s not your money. You’re fine without that compensation. She’s the one who needs it. Are you saying… you’re doing all this just so she can get paid?”

I nodded.

Margaret began tapping her teacup rim with uneven rhythm. It seemed my expectations of her were beginning to come true.

Back when she had nothing, Margaret either overlooked my oddities or failed to notice them. Her life was filled with people who treated her cruelly. Compared to them, my strangeness probably seemed harmless—maybe even preferable.

But now, Margaret was part of a perfectly normal, maybe even enviably stable, household.

Her marriage might not have been for love, but Viscount Damier was a good husband—attentive, loyal. And his mother, the Viscountess, had recognized Margaret’s potential from the start and treated her like a beloved daughter.

After being surrounded by such people, seeing someone like me must have been jarring.

“So… what, are you trying to be a saint?”

The look in Margaret’s eyes pleaded for that to be the answer. If I said I intended to leave the world behind and become a saint, it would at least explain things.

“Cecilia, you and I both know you’re no saint. You’re not built for that. That’s what I don’t get. You’re not trying to love your enemies. So why are you doing this?”

From her point of view, it made no sense.

Edgar and Elodie had both hurt me—yet I was bent on punishing one while helping the other. No wonder she was confused.

“Elodie tried to atone for something I never asked her to. Even with all her pain and anger at Edgar, she didn’t forget me. She didn’t have to do anything for me, but she did. And if she offered her repentance, I owe her something in return.”

Margaret pushed her teacup away.

“I told you I was strange,” I said. “I warned you, Margaret. I said if you wanted my friendship, I wouldn’t have much to give.”

She bit her lip, and I continued, quietly.

“Elodie has a right to her revenge. And I… I have a responsibility to help. Whether it’s giving her a push, or being the connection she needs—my part in this isn’t done until I return what she gave me.”

“A transaction?” Margaret repeated, her voice cracking.

“If someone gives me something—whatever it is—I believe in giving something back of equal worth.”

Margaret was silent for a long time. Then she asked, her voice trembling,

“Was our friendship a transaction too?”

I nodded.

She raised a hand and pointed toward the terrace exit.

“Go.”

“Margaret…”

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please leave.”

I left without a word. I’d known it would end like this eventually. The moment I formed a bond with Margaret, its end was already written.

With Penelope, the difference in status would delay it a bit longer—but that ending, too, was certain.

When I stepped out from the terrace, Viscount Damier was waiting.

“Please take care of Margaret,” I told him.

“She says I’m not even worth a sliver of Lady Cecilia’s fingernail,” he replied, with a nervous smile. “She must’ve had another one of her flare-ups. You know how fiery she can be. Honestly, if you just stay by her side, I’m sure she’ll cool down. So, about the dinner you turned down…”

“Viscount.”

The kindness drained from his face, replaced by confusion.

He was nothing like Ricardo. He looked every bit the kind, soft-hearted man he was.

“Margaret won’t want to see me again. Please, be the one who comforts her.”

I didn’t wait for a reply and walked straight to where my carriage waited.

Saying goodbye to Margaret didn’t hurt much—probably because I’d never shown her the real me.

Whether I continued to allow Ricardo near me would depend entirely on how he answered the “assignment” I gave him earlier.

Margaret’s goodbye stung just a little, like a shallow scratch.

But Ricardo… his goodbye might feel more like losing a part of myself.

Just thinking about it scared me. So, I locked that thought away—sealed it tight in an empty box, secured with layers upon layers of locks.

Until I heard Ricardo’s answer… I wouldn’t open it.

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