No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 38

Edgar didn’t escort me.

He was too preoccupied looking for the Queen.

Sir Juan, who had also been waiting for Edgar to play his part, sighed and extended his hand toward me with a grim expression.

“Don’t be disheartened.”

“I’m not,” I replied curtly.

Margaret stepped down from the carriage right after.

I called over Justin and instructed him to escort Isla.

“Miss Isla?” he asked, frowning.

Isla hadn’t recognized him, but Justin clearly hadn’t forgotten. His hostility was obvious.

“She said she’d prefer a young and handsome knight.”

“I’m not a knight.”

For someone who had previously made a scene trying to act like one, it seemed he still had too much pride to sell himself out completely.

“I didn’t lie and say you were. She chose you knowing exactly who you are.”

Justin couldn’t hide his expression, but he didn’t disobey my order either. That was a good sign.

Maybe it meant he was starting to accept the changes he’d heard about from Martha.

Down by the river, a dazzling array of colors spread across the scene.

The boat floating on the water was massive—easily large enough to accommodate everyone gathered.

“Sis, where’s Lady Josephine?”

“You mean Countess Allegro.”

“Right, Countess Allegro—where is she?”

Grinding her teeth, Isla corrected herself.

“Not sure. It’s so crowded I can’t see her. Let’s look around.”

“I agree. Why don’t we head toward the shade, Cecilia? The sun is strong today—we wouldn’t want your fair skin to burn,” Margaret suggested with concern.

I scanned the area, looking for any sign of Edgar.

“What if Count Linton doesn’t escort you? People will understand. He usually attends events with Elodie, and Elodie’s not even someone who would be escorted. He’s probably just not in the habit of doing it.”

What must it be like to live as someone so simple and forgetful, like Isla?

She seemed to see me as easy to provoke—but despite clearly having been scared by my earlier warning, she bounced right back, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Lady Cecilia.”

As we stepped into the shade, a few women who had arrived earlier greeted me.

“Lady Ellen,” I replied.

Of course, Doria was by her side as well.

The two older ladies were gently fanning themselves, quietly observing the bustling crowd.

“Lady Doria,” I greeted her too, then introduced Margaret.

“This is Margaret of House Artois.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Margaret said, stiffly bowing her knees just a little. Ellen covered her mouth with her fan, amused.

“What an unexpected companion, Lady Cecilia.”

“We’re close in age, so we have quite a bit in common.”

Doria, compared to Ellen, seemed more reserved in her response.

“It’s true that Lady Cecilia doesn’t have many peers she fits well with.”

That calm tone surprised me, especially compared to the cold indifference she once showed Ricardo.

Unlike Ellen, who had at least pretended to be polite in front of Marchioness Federica, I remembered Doria as someone who always wore a disapproving expression.

I had assumed she judged people solely by their backgrounds, but now—seeing her interact with Margaret—it was hard to pin down her personality.

“Have you seen Josephine?”

“Not yet. She must be very busy with all the guests.”

Ellen offered me a seat. There were only a few chairs in the shade, and it was considered improper to sit unless you were someone of Ellen or Doria’s seniority.

“Lady Margaret, have a seat as well,” Doria said, lightly patting the empty chair next to her.

Margaret nodded in acknowledgment without much gratitude, but Doria didn’t seem offended by her stiffness.

“This is my younger sister—Isla, come introduce yourself. This is Countess Lazio and Countess Verita.”

Isla’s expression twisted. Margaret had a seat, while she was still standing.

“Lady Ellen, Lady Doria. I’m Isla Rosette. My hopeless sister here owes you her gratitude.”

And just like that, Isla caused another blunder.

She hadn’t been invited to use their names so casually, yet she did it anyway—proof of just how little her mother’s lessons had stuck.

“Lady Isla Rosette,” Ellen corrected her coldly.

Doria didn’t even acknowledge Isla’s greeting.

“Sis,” Isla whispered, tugging at my sleeve, only now realizing the situation.

“I apologize. Lady Rosette raised her too delicately, so she’s still immature. Please allow me to apologize on her behalf.”

“It’s not Lady Cecilia’s fault,” Ellen said dryly. “Everyone has their circumstances, sure, but there’s no need to deny what we’ve heard with our own ears.”

She scoffed.

“People say you don’t have to love your stepchildren the same, and fine, I can accept that. But building a fake reputation off lies? That’s fraud, in my eyes.”

Isla’s breathing grew shaky.

“My mother isn’t that kind of person,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Is that so? If it were me, I wouldn’t let my daughter call her stepsister ‘slow’ or ‘dumb.’ That’s not the young lady’s fault. Raising a child properly is entirely the mother’s responsibility.”

Whatever comeback Isla might have had was drowned out by the loud blare of trumpets.

A grand, ornate carriage was approaching from the distance.

“It’s Her Majesty.”

The noisy crowd fell completely silent in an instant.

Everyone knelt and lowered their eyes to the ground, staying perfectly still as the carriage rolled to a stop.

The door opened, and a carpet unfurled with a soft rustle.

A pair of shoes with a gentle shimmer stepped out gracefully.

“Your Majesty,”

It was Josephine’s voice.

“Jo! Thank you for giving me the perfect excuse to get out of the palace today.”

“Martha, watch your step. I know you’re happy to see Jo, but you still need to sit down first.”

Marchioness Federica had arrived in the same carriage, it seemed.

“It’s such an honor to welcome you both. Although, I wonder—would it be considered treason if I admitted I only invited Her Majesty to lure Isabelle out of the palace?”

Laughter rang through the air, light and clear.

While the Queen laughed and chatted, the rest of us remained frozen in place, heads bowed low.

“Oh my, please rise. I got so excited about this rare outing that I forgot my place.”

Everyone quickly reassured her in unison that they didn’t mind at all—that they’d gladly kneel for three days if it pleased her.

“Ricardo?”

I lifted my head to look—and there he was.

Ricardo was escorting the Queen.

He gave a slight bow as he offered his arm with polished manners.

“Well, he’s done well for himself,” Doria grumbled under her breath.

“Probably thanks to Marchioness Federica. She’s always been fond of him. Not sure why,” Ellen added, her tone vague—somewhere between sarcasm and sincerity.

“Lady Cecilia, weren’t you once acquainted with Lord Ricardo?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a meaningful relationship.”

The Ricardo standing next to the Queen looked like a completely different person.

He wasn’t the young man from the letters who had wanted to be my friend. Nor was he the arrogant young lord he showed to others.

His calm, almost cold expression seemed to say he wouldn’t grovel—not even before royalty. But more than that…

“Cecilia!”

Edgar stormed toward me and grabbed my wrist.

“Take this.”

He shoved the birdcage into my arms.

“You need to be the first to greet Her Majesty.”

He was so focused on the Queen’s presence that he didn’t even notice Ellen or Doria nearby—he just dragged me along without a second thought.

“And how exactly do you plan on making that happen?”

“Once we get close, Lady Josephine will see you.”

“She’s already speaking with the Queen. She won’t have time to notice anything else. Why not wait until we’re on the boat—then we can—”

“God, you’re unbelievably slow, Cecilia. Do you even realize how many people here are dying for a chance to catch the Queen’s eye? Everyone here is waiting for the perfect moment to jump in.”

He, of all people, sounded the most desperate.

“First impressions matter. As time passes, each greeting becomes less memorable. The House of Linton has always been prestigious, sure—but we’ve never had a real connection to royalty. Finally, I get the chance to make that happen.”

As he dragged me along, I held the birdcage close to keep it from shaking.

The poor lark inside, exhausted from the journey, had tucked its head under its wing.

Under the wide shade of a large zelkova tree, the Queen sat in a cushioned chair.

A canopy had been set up, and a table of tea and treats was arranged beside her.

Only Marchioness Federica sat with her—everyone else stood at a distance.

Josephine gestured toward the boat as she explained something to the Queen.

And Ricardo…

He stood quietly behind them, completely ignored, like a shadow.

It hit me then: the Queen choosing Ricardo as her escort wasn’t much different from Isla picking Justin.

“Oh! Cecilia.”

Josephine finally spotted me from within the crowd of watchful onlookers.

“And Count Linton is here too.”

“Lady Josephine, you look as radiant as ever,” Edgar said, practically bowing to the ground.

“And Count Linton, looking just as polished. I imagine things are… fulfilling—both at home and elsewhere,” Josephine replied, her tone light but sharp.

“As long as Cecilia’s there, life is never boring.”

Watching Edgar try to keep his temper was always entertaining.

“I’m simply grateful you’re so kind to my wife.”

“Cecilia deserves kindness,” she said warmly.

Their conversation was stiff, awkward, and disjointed—but Edgar kept darting glances at the Queen.

Josephine clearly enjoyed watching him squirm, and deliberately took her time.

“You should greet Her Majesty,” she finally said.

Edgar’s eyes lit up. It was what he’d been waiting for.

“Of course. It would be terribly rude not to.”

“I was talking to Cecilia,” Josephine said with a smile, then nodded toward me.

I caught the signal immediately and walked toward her.

“Cecilia,” Edgar said quietly, confused by what was happening.

“If we keep acting like this, no one will know we even arrived together.”

Surrounding the Queen was a large circle of nobles and ladies.

And every one of them was watching—witnessing the Lintons’ first official appearance as a couple.

“I’ll make sure Her Majesty receives the gift,” I said, holding up the birdcage.

Edgar’s face turned red, then pale.

He must’ve realized how many people were watching, because he forced a stiff smile.

“Right. The gift I prepared.”

“I hope she likes it. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Josephine’s lips curled slightly in amusement.

I had become the version of myself she’d hoped to see—calm, poised, and completely in control.

I clutched the cage and stepped forward.

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