No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 48

My harsh advice had worked, if only for a moment.

“My Lady, Lord Ricardo is here again.”

“Tell him to leave.”

Too frightened of Ricardo to face him herself, Sarah had passed the task of announcing his visit to Martha.

“I told him several times that you’re too busy, but he just keeps repeating that his condition hasn’t improved.”

Martha wasn’t afraid of Ricardo in the slightest.

She was convinced his intentions toward me were improper.

A true gentleman, she claimed, wouldn’t visit a married woman while her husband was away.

And if he really were sick, he should be calling for a physician—not striding all the way to House Linton’s estate on his own two feet, she muttered with disdain.

“Where’s Sir Juan?”

Technically, Juan wasn’t a guard stationed at the house, but I had given him the authority to turn away visitors I didn’t wish to see.

“Useless. He walked Lord Ricardo out of the front hall and then just loitered around like his job was done.”

Juan shared drinks with Ricardo. That bearded knight no doubt believed Ricardo was smitten with me and simply couldn’t be treated too harshly—man to man.

“If he’s sick, he should stay home and rest. Why come here and risk infecting you? Will he take responsibility if you fall ill too?”

Martha’s complaining was tinged with something more maternal—echoes of her past as Cecilia’s wet nurse.

No matter how firmly I drew the line, the past didn’t vanish just because I wanted it to.

“You’ve got to go to Marchioness Federica’s residence, and that Lord What’s-His-Name is just loitering around outside. If this keeps up, it’s going to stir up a scandal.”

Martha had no filter when it came to people she disliked. She spoke of Countess Rosette like this too.

Was her fierce attitude toward Ricardo solely because of her son? It made me wonder, as I ignored Ricardo—probably sitting in the parlor—lost in unrelated thoughts.

He’d be dragged out again by Juan eventually, and would wait around pointlessly outside before returning home alone.

“We need to put an end to this before it gets out of hand.”

Martha clicked her tongue as she looked out the window.

“He didn’t show up when you were hiding away from the world, but now that he smells a few crumbs falling from the table, he comes running.”

“Martha, he’s the heir of House Bastian.”

“I’m only saying this because it’s just the two of us—he’s rotten on the inside. No better than those petty knights who try to seduce noblewomen for clout.”

It seemed Martha had somewhat forgiven me for keeping Sarah closer lately.

She’d faithfully carried out her mission of snooping through Sarah’s room.

Justin had also done his part, keeping tabs on Sir Juan.

Whether this mother and son duo had truly changed their hearts or were working another angle, I hadn’t decided yet.

“You said you don’t see me as your nurse anymore, but I’ve decided to think of you as my grown daughter.”

Martha said this while smoothing out the creases on my skirt.

“It hurts sometimes, sure. But that’s how it is. Wet nurses rarely get anything in return. You pour your heart into raising someone, and in the end, they’re still the master.”

Her tone, of course, had none of the deference that “master” would normally imply.

“No matter how I look at it, I don’t have anyone else to rely on. My boy says at least you repay what you’re given. I suppose he’s right.”

When I tried to strip her of her nurse title, Martha had resisted fiercely.

“The only upside to getting old is learning to accept your place.”

“So you didn’t really come here to report Lord Ricardo’s visit, did you?”

Ricardo had been coming to the Linton estate every few days.

He would show up early in the morning, avoiding the eyes of others, and after being turned away, he’d often linger in the shaded parts of the garden before leaving again.

The estate staff had the sense to pretend not to see, not to hear, not to speak.

So far, it hadn’t caused a real problem.

Thanks to Martha’s constant surveillance and Justin’s quick feet, Sarah’s notes hadn’t made it to Countess Rosette.

“Anyway, My Lady, I raised you myself. My son may be more important to me—but you matter just as much.”

It was clear she had prepared those words in advance, repeating and rehearsing them for the right moment.

And if I dug into it, there was plenty to be skeptical about.

Maybe she believed I had a bright future now, considering how I’d become Marchioness Federica’s companion and received a personal invitation to the palace from the Queen.

If I had remained just another Countess of Linton, she might’ve stayed indifferent and followed me out of habit—but now, my worth had risen.

Just like Justin had said—the more loyal the mother and son became, the greater the reward they expected in return.

Justin had accompanied me to Josephine’s boat party. He’d seen firsthand the honor of being granted a private audience with the Queen.

“Whether you believe me or not, My Lady, my heart is sincere.”

With a grunt, Martha straightened her back after smoothing the wrinkles from my skirt.

“Mm. I understand.”

I didn’t say I believed her. I only said I understood what she meant.

“Your life is on a golden path now. That young Lord is nothing but an obstacle.”

Martha looked pleased by my vague reply and launched into a string of nagging.

“Before the Count left, he said you were in charge. That changes everything. You need to be more cautious now.”

“Yes, I know.”

I let her words wash over me without much thought.

When it came to Edgar, nothing Martha said was worth listening to.

Her views were always biased—she turned a blind eye to Edgar keeping Elodie as his mistress, but if I so much as breathed in the direction of a scandal, she’d be the first to scold me.

I understood perfectly well why Ricardo was clinging to me—and knew he wouldn’t go away easily.

So instead of wasting thought on him, it was far more useful to focus on how to win over Marchioness Federica.

“And I don’t think you should get too close to Penelope, either.”

Martha wasn’t planning to shut up anytime soon.

“She may be talented, but she bounces from house to house. She’ll spread your private affairs around like gossip.”

Listening to her grumble, I found myself almost convinced her feelings were real.

How could she be so simple? I almost envied it.

The moment she believed I had a bright future, she’d jumped aboard. And to protect her share of the spoils, she was already pushing out the competition.

Sarah, the spy for Countess Rosette, had already been neutralized.

The only rival left was Penelope, who’d recently risen to my inner circle.

“Madame Penelope is a talent you can’t even see without a reservation.”

“If it weren’t for you, she’d still be some run-of-the-mill seamstress.”

“Exactly. I made her success possible. Would she really betray me after that?”

What I gave Penelope wasn’t just career advancement.

I’d also helped her reconnect with Ricardo, a tie she’d lost in childhood.

Ricardo had even become her public sponsor.

“Sponsored by the Young Lord of Bastian” had become Penelope’s defining tag.

“People have already forgotten it was you who lifted her up. That little Lord’s presence has totally snuffed out your glow.”

Martha grumbled, but I knew Ricardo’s involvement had actually helped in its own way.

At the dinner party, Josephine had taken my side. Interest in Penelope had surged.

But no one else had trusted her enough to delegate an entire major event like I had.

Penelope had only achieved partial success.

She’d settled for being a sought-after stylist instead of the grand party planner she’d dreamed of becoming.

Ricardo had stepped in just enough—elevating her but also distracting from the fact that she’d been my planner.

“Unless you can find someone better than Madame Penelope, you’d better stop complaining.”

Martha pursed her lips in annoyance but finally shut her mouth.

To keep her from brooding too long, I changed the subject.

“I’m leaving Sarah behind today. If she sneaks out, have Justin follow her.”

“She’ll just end up colluding with Countess Rosette again. Why not just cut off her air supply entirely? Let her suffocate and give up on her own.”

“Martha, don’t make me say it twice.”

My tone turned sharp.

Trusting Martha now wasn’t a bad result, but as I expected, it came with complications.

With her black-and-white personality, she assumed that once she’d picked a side, our relationship would return to what it used to be.

“Go check if Lord Ricardo is still in the drawing room. If he is, get him out—out of the garden, out of the house. Entirely.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to manage that?”

“Figure it out, Martha.”

She let out a loud, theatrical sigh as she left the room.

I pushed Martha from my thoughts. I shoved Ricardo out too.

Instead, I focused on what might win over Marchioness Federica.

Ever since I’d laid on the flattery too thick, her polite coldness had not wavered.

Given that she was the Queen’s grandmother, it was only natural she’d sniff out any sycophantic intentions right away.

Maybe I should ask Josephine for help.

She already knew I was building connections to get revenge on Edgar.

Josephine had lived a life much like Cecilia’s, and she genuinely wanted to see my revenge succeed.

If even Josephine couldn’t help, I still had Margaret.

Compared to me, Margaret was desperate. Bringing her along when meeting Marchioness Federica might make me look more dignified by contrast.

I assigned Margaret her role without a shred of guilt.

It was a fair deal, I was offering her a key to high society. She wouldn’t consider that unfair.

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