No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 70

We began discussing the timing of my move into the Queen’s Palace.

With the debutante season fast approaching, Queen Martha emphasized that I needed to become familiar with the palace as soon as possible.

Thanks to Edgar—who was still in shock over the fact that Lia dared defy him—the conversation proceeded in a surprisingly cheerful atmosphere.

Marchioness Federica didn’t bother to hide her concern that the Queen might end up managing all the debutante preparations alone.

“There’s so much to do. We still need to find Lia a steward, and with the handover and everything, I don’t know if there’ll even be time to attend Lorraine’s lessons.”

A steward? Well, that was already a solved problem.

After all, my duties at the Linton estate amounted to little more than reviewing the ledgers that the head maid had prepared and pretending I understood them.

Edgar never allowed me any real authority.

He kept me in the dark about even the most basic matters a proper lady of the house would know—our household income, property holdings, or tax obligations.

The ledgers the head maid gave me contained only simple information: servants’ wages, vacation schedules, and the occasional sick leave entry.

Even salary disbursement wasn’t under my purview. Edgar handled it himself—handing out coin pouches from the vault to the head maid on payday like some benevolent lord.

“I’ll help find a steward,” said the Marchioness with a resigned sigh. “Though I can’t take over managing the Linton estate, the handover will fall on you, Lia. Of course, it just had to overlap with the debutante season…”

Her sigh was more a complaint than a lament. The debutante ball—every young lady’s dream—was, to her, nothing more than another burden.

Trying to lighten the mood, I said in a bright voice, “Then I’m glad I can tell you that your generous favor won’t require that much trouble after all.”

“Just take it, Countess Linton,” Ricardo chimed in, using his usual flippant tone. “Spoiling others is Isabel’s hobby. It’s not even that generous, really. If anything, it works out well for both of you.”

His casual wording made Queen Martha’s eyes narrow.

“It’s Marchioness Federica to you, Your Majesty,” he added belatedly.

“Do you think I’ve gone deaf already? Federica, consider this gift returned,” the Queen muttered dryly.

The Marchioness gave Ricardo a light slap on the hand—just a tap, really—but he made a dramatic show of clutching it like he’d been wounded in battle.

Watching him, I began to understand how Ricardo had survived among people of power despite his inherent vulnerabilities.

To those he could gain something from, he played the underdog to perfection. But for someone like Edgar—who had nothing to offer and no intention of giving—he wielded his social standing like a weapon.

That status might have been earned after birth, but in this society, it was no less potent.

In such a rigid class system, drawing clear lines between us and not us was crucial—but once someone made it into the circle, they had to be recognized, at least on the surface, as one of us.

I found myself wondering: where did Margaret stand?

She didn’t fully belong to us or not us. Ricardo might claim I was one of his kind—but in truth, the one who shared my position most closely was Margaret.

“Countess Linton.”

Ricardo’s voice called me back, more serious now.

I looked up to meet those golden eyes that seemed to pierce straight through me and dig into my thoughts.

“Marchioness Federica asked if you already had someone in mind for the steward position.”

It felt like he had noticed I’d drifted too far from him for a moment—his gaze was tinged with something almost… plaintive.

“No, Marchioness,” I replied quickly, avoiding Ricardo’s eyes. “I meant there’s no need for a steward.”

“No steward?” the Marchioness frowned. “You mean to say you’ll manage the Linton estate while also serving Queen Martha? It’s fine to be ambitious, Lia, but there’s a difference between what you can do and what you must do.”

She was scolding me gently, like I was a young wife with unrealistic ideals.

Which made sense, on the surface. I was newly married, and if I were the real Lia, serving as Edgar’s wife would likely have been my top priority. From her view, it was a fair assumption.

“I don’t really do much,” I said lightly. “Edgar handles the household more than I do. I think having a steward would make him uncomfortable.”

I glanced at Edgar as I spoke.

He’d been biting his lip, but now his vacant expression sharpened with awareness.

“Count Linton manages the estate?” Queen Martha asked, sounding vaguely scandalized.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Edgar answered smoothly. “It’s unfortunate, but Lia has always been quite inept at managing household affairs. She never took to it properly, so I had no choice but to step in.”

He was trying to prove my incompetence—hoping it would make the Queen withdraw her offer.

If we weren’t in the Queen’s palace, and if the person questioning him weren’t the woman who sat at the top of this kingdom’s hierarchy, perhaps his clever brain would have worked better.

But alas—he was too disoriented by the fact that the people he once dismissed—Ricardo and me—had now surpassed him in favor and influence.

“She doesn’t know how to read ledgers or handle servants,” Edgar added eagerly. “Everything fell into chaos when she moved in. It took me quite some time to restore order.”

He was so passionate in his complaints, it was almost impressive.

Too bad all he was doing was handing Queen Martha more reasons to trust me—not less.

He kept repeating the same sentiment in different words—how foolish I was, how it was a mystery what I had learned at the Rosette estate.

Meanwhile, I quietly tried to count how many sugars cubes Ricardo had plopped into my teacup before I’d have to stop him.

“That’s enough, Lord Ricardo.”

“Not a fan of sweets, Countess Linton?”

The sugar cubes had piled so high they were teetering over the rim of the cup, threatening to spill. I stopped him before it became a disaster.

“Ah, if it’s just unfamiliar to you, then it’s worth a try,” he said cheerfully. “Her Majesty’s not the type to neglect her ladies-in-waiting. If she’s to be your sister, a little sugar is hardly something she’d ration.”

Queen Martha gave him a light swat on the head.

It might’ve seemed like an affectionate gesture at a glance, but it felt more like a master scolding a mischievous pet.

“Lia, do they ration sugar in the Linton household?”

The Queen’s voice was casual, but Edgar flinched and quickly dropped his gaze, his expression twisted in shame.

I saw his clenched fist tremble as I chose my next words carefully.

Ricardo wouldn’t do anything without meaning. If he was provoking Edgar this way, it had to be part of something bigger.

“As my husband said, Your Majesty, I don’t handle the household affairs. I don’t even know how much sugar we have, so I can’t say whether it’s wasteful or not.”

Edgar’s jaw clenched. By now, I’d said and done enough things to earn myself a shouted “Lia!” and a dramatic outburst—but somehow, he held it in with remarkable self-control.

“A new bride being perfectly skilled at housekeeping right from the start would be far more suspicious, don’t you think, Count Linton?”

The Queen’s voice held just the right amount of sarcasm to sting.

“If she doesn’t know, she can learn. If she’s unfamiliar, she just needs time. You seem rather short on patience, Count Linton.”

If only the Queen could see how much patience he’s exerting right now, I thought.

“I… failed to consider my wife’s feelings, Your Majesty,” Edgar muttered in a broken tone. And even that apology wasn’t really meant for me—it was for the Queen.

“She’s a woman who believes that if she can do something and is allowed to do it, then there’s no reason not to.”

The Queen recalled one of my earlier, more reckless declarations.

“I hope that belief hasn’t changed, Lia.”

“It hasn’t, Your Majesty.”

I had almost forgotten it myself.

I took a sip of the overly sweet tea, hoping my words would taste as sweet as the liquid on my tongue.

“You’re not the type who can’t manage a household, then?” the Queen asked sharply. She was clearly unimpressed with Edgar, but I could tell she was still trying to assess me. If I truly was the useless fool Edgar described, she would have no reason to keep me around.

“I could, but I didn’t see why I had to.”

“Oh?”

“If my husband doesn’t trust me—when I haven’t even done anything yet—I see no reason to be the one to lower myself first.”

Edgar paled. He’d just been painted as a petty man who doubted his newlywed wife without cause. At least he had the awareness to realize how that looked.

“Your Majesty has shown me kindness. I’m the kind of person who tries to return the trust I’m given.”

That was how I did business. I never accepted what I couldn’t repay.

The Queen’s trust—like the sugar in my teacup—might appear solid, but it would melt quickly if I wasn’t careful. It was delicate. But that was fine. I had no intention of giving her anything more than the same kind of fragile trust in return.

Ricardo, on the other hand… he didn’t want that kind of balance. He wanted obsession disguised as a transaction—like ice pretending to be sugar.

If only he wanted something simpler, I thought.

“So you’re a ‘payment upfront’ kind of woman,” the Queen mused, narrowing her eyes. But it didn’t sound like a rebuke, and I nodded.

“You came at a high price, Lia.”

“Martha.”

Marchioness Federica scolded her sharply, though she hadn’t said a word when Ricardo was being treated like a pet.

I almost took that personally. But the Marchioness immediately turned back to me with sincere warmth in her eyes.

“Well, if you don’t need a steward, all the better, Lia. Stay at my house until you move into the palace. Spend time with Lorraine before then.”

“Marchioness, I wouldn’t want Lia to inconvenience you,” Edgar said desperately, his last effort to regain control.

“She’s not a burden,” the Marchioness replied coolly. “Lorraine is a dear old friend. This isn’t for Lia—it’s for Lorraine’s comfort. Don’t trouble yourself.”

She dismissed Edgar’s protests without a second thought.

“I just don’t want Martha left alone without a proper lady-in-waiting. I’ll send a carriage for you tomorrow. All you have to do is come, Lia.”

I gave a small nod, my eyes drifting to Edgar, who now sat like a man cornered by every side.

Everyone else seemed content with how things had turned out—except him.

The Queen said her goodbyes to the Marchioness with some reluctance, and I, as I had upon arrival, took Ricardo’s arm for the walk back to the carriage.

As we neared the waiting carriage, Edgar suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me backward.

This time, he’d accounted for the weight of my dress, so instead of stumbling, I was practically dragged toward the vehicle.

“Count Linton,” Ricardo warned sharply.

But Edgar ignored him, shoving me into the carriage and snapping at the coachman.

“Drive!”

“Edgar, we left Sarah behind—”

“I said drive!”

His shout cracked like a thunderclap. The carriage jolted into motion.

Outside, Ricardo’s face flashed past the window—worried, tense, fading fast.

Edgar pulled the curtain closed in a fury.

My fingers trembled beneath the heavy folds of my dress as I tucked them away from view.

No one loved me.
Not really.
Not yet.

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