No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 71

Edgar leapt off the carriage before it had even come to a full stop.

Watching him walk away without once glancing back, I felt an unexpected sense of relief.

At least he didn’t strike me in anger.

It was laughable that I found comfort in the fact that, while he might destroy innocent furniture, he wasn’t the kind of man to extend that violence to people.

To think I almost reevaluated Edgar’s character just because he refrained from doing something he obviously should never have done in the first place.

If there were such a thing as a “character certification,” and the standard were based on relative comparison, then compared to Father, Edgar might actually seem like a decent man.

But I’m not a defective product missing parts necessary to be human—I’m no fool. If such a certification ever did exist, I know the standard must be absolute.

Even just the way he made me feel trapped and afraid inside the closed carriage, venting his frustration the entire ride home—that alone was enough to disqualify him.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

It was Sir Juan who asked. His face was etched with concern, and I gave him an awkward nod.

“I left Sarah at the palace.”

“I asked Lord Ricardo to look after her before we departed.”

I had heard that Sir Juan and Ricardo occasionally drank together, but I never thought they were close enough for such favors to be exchanged without hesitation.

To be honest, I had assumed Ricardo befriended Sir Juan only to gather information about me.

Given Juan’s humble origins—especially in contrast to Ricardo’s current status—I figured he saw an opportunity to benefit from the connection, perhaps by feigning sincerity.

I had vaguely assumed their relationship mirrored that of Martha and Cecilia. But now it felt like someone had struck a bold red X across the answer sheet I had proudly submitted.

Bringing Sarah back from the palace was hardly a significant task.

Sir Juan didn’t even need to go himself.

“You seem quite close with Lord Ricardo,” I said.

“Whether our minds are in harmony, I can’t say.”

He paused for a moment, seemingly weighing how to define their friendship.

“Our taste in alcohol is rather similar,” he finally said.

“Is that such an important factor?” I asked, out of genuine curiosity.

I know there are romantic types who consider even the smallest similarities to be fate—but I hadn’t pegged Sir Juan as one of them.

“Any shared taste can serve as a basis for long-standing interaction.”

“Shared taste, hmm.”

“We may get along due to similar preferences, but I doubt Lord Ricardo considers me a friend. Nor do I consider him one.”

You can stay that close without being friends? My puzzled expression must have shown, because he added,

“Even acquaintances exchange small favors, my lady.”

Sir Juan, from what I had observed, was a man of reason. And when someone reasonable offers advice, it’s only right to consider it.

“Then Edgar and I aren’t even acquaintances, are we?”

Sir Juan gave a faintly curious look at my words, but he didn’t deny them.

It wasn’t hard to see: Edgar refused my requests, while I constantly gave in to his demands.

“Until the Count cools down, perhaps you’d like to take a walk, my lady?”

“I’ll be staying at Marchioness Federica’s residence starting tomorrow. I need to pack—so a walk might be a luxury I can’t afford.”

I declined his careful attempt at comfort. Of course, the truth was that Sarah and another maid would do the packing. My excuse was just that—an excuse.

“Ah, in that case, I suppose I should prepare as well,” Sir Juan said, catching me off guard.

“You’re going too, Sir Juan?”

“A knight goes where his lady does.”

His tone was uncharacteristically teasing.

I looked at him, surprised, and saw the faint twitch of his lips.

“Is there no clause in your contract that prohibits teasing your employer?”

Sir Juan placed a hand dramatically over his chest, feigning offense.

“To think that my lady sees me merely as an employee—my heart is shattered.”

I paused my struggle with my dress, unsure of what to make of him.

The bundle of fabric I’d been holding slipped from my grasp, and the weight of it nearly buckled my knees.

Sir Juan quickly caught my elbow to steady me, then returned to his overly theatrical pose, clutching his heart.

“Though I am employed by you, I also consider you a personal acquaintance.”

This time, I couldn’t hide my confusion.

He seemed unsurprised by my reaction, almost as if he had expected it.

“I would resist an employer’s unreasonable demands,” he said, “but a request from a friend—I might at least consider.”

Had I not been tangled in layers of dress fabric, I might have taken a step back. His declaration of friendship was that startling.

Sir Juan had always been kind to me, but I assumed it was simply part of a knight’s duty.

I tried to remain objective.

The most reasonable assumption was that his kindness stemmed from pity.

This was different from Penelope or Margaret.

Penelope said she grew fond of me because I gave her the words she longed to hear.

Margaret, I realized later, likely appreciated that I never discriminated against her despite her status.

So, in both cases, their affection had a clear cause—either I filled a gap or simply overlooked one.

At the time, I found their emotions burdensome, but in hindsight, they made sense. With that understanding, I could finally think about how to approach those relationships going forward.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I said. “But if I do make unreasonable demands, I hope you’ll continue to resist them.”

I already had more than enough complicated relationships in my life.

Although I never wanted it, I found myself entangled with Penelope, Margaret, Martha—and to top off the chaos, Ricardo, who was confusion incarnate.

I didn’t want to include Sir Juan in this web of complications. Especially not if pity was the thread pulling him in—something I detested.

I made up my mind not to take Sir Juan with me to the Marchioness Federica’s estate and walked past him into the house.

“Why are you only just coming in?”

Edgar, who had leapt from the carriage even before it came to a stop, was still standing in the foyer.

“You’ve been waiting here this whole time?”

I asked, seeing him still in his outdoor clothes. A decorative vase lay shattered across the carpet.

“I kept having doubts,” Edgar said, ignoring my question as he launched into whatever he wanted to say.

“They say people change after a near-death experience, but you’ve become an entirely different person.”

I looked around, searching for Martha.

With Sarah still at the palace, I needed Martha’s help to change out of my dress.

“I kept telling myself I’d put up with you as long as you didn’t embarrass the family any further. But it’s becoming harder and harder to look the other way.”

Edgar stepped toward me. The rage from earlier seemed to have faded from his face.

So I didn’t think to brace myself.

“You’re insane, Cecilia.”

His hand gripped my wrist with a painful force.

“Everything you’ve done—none of it was for House Linton, was it? It was all for your own selfish gain. Cozying up to the Marchioness so you could get into the Queen’s inner circle—what were you planning after that?”

“Let go, Edgar.”

My wrist throbbed, as if it might shatter. But Edgar didn’t let go.

In fact, he gripped even harder, as if he wanted to watch me squirm in pain.

“You think I’d let a lunatic like you out into the world? House Linton has upheld its name for five generations. If I let someone like you tarnish its honor, my father would weep blood in his grave.”

“Didn’t your late father destroy the Linton name himself?” I shot back through clenched teeth, fighting the pain.

Edgar’s face twisted with fury.

“You dare insult my father again? You really are insane.”

He had calmed down, strangely enough.

When I had naively believed I was doing something meaningful for the family, he had tolerated it.

But now that I had begun to think for myself, Edgar couldn’t accept it. Rather than believe I was acting out of conviction, he dismissed it as madness.

To Edgar, Cecilia was a doll—obedient and decorative.

As long as a doll wasn’t broken, it was a beautiful ornament meant to serve its master.

But what happens when that doll begins to move and speak—and worse, act against the master’s will?

It becomes cursed. Possessed. Something to be cast out. And Edgar was treating me just like that.

“Let me go, Edgar. I don’t have time to wrestle with you. Say whatever you want—I’m leaving tomorrow, and after that, we’ll never see each other again.”

Once I finished my training at the Marchioness Federica’s estate, I planned to go straight to the Queen’s palace. I had no intention of setting foot in the Linton residence again.

If I played the role of the Queen’s lady-in-waiting well enough, I would divorce Edgar. Today might very well be the last time we ever saw each other as husband and wife.

“You’re right, Cecilia,” Edgar said, surprisingly in agreement.

“We’ll never see each other again.”

His agreement sent a chill down my spine.

He couldn’t possibly be thinking the same thing as me. The moment he said he agreed, I had a terrible feeling.

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll be sent to the Convent of Saint Fidelphia. They’re always welcoming new sisters, I hear.”

What?

My mind went blank. I didn’t even register the moment he finally let go of my wrist.

“You won’t need your things. It’s sacrilegious to carry vanity into the arms of God.”

Having said his piece, Edgar turned and left, looking lighter—as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

I stood there, frozen, and for the first time, truly felt fear.

I had underestimated Edgar’s confidence. He was never going to send me somewhere good.

I had assumed, at worst, he’d try to lock me away within the Linton estate. I never imagined he’d speak of sending me to an entirely different place.

I didn’t know what role convents played in this world. But religion tends to share similar traits no matter the place—surely a married woman couldn’t become a nun.

Which left only one explanation.

A dumping ground for the family’s disgrace.

It wasn’t fear from physical violence that gripped me, but something more sinister—like someone had reached into my mind and crushed it until I couldn’t think at all.

“Martha. Martha!”

Overwhelmed, I gave into panic.

“My lady! What’s wrong—Miss!”

Martha came running from somewhere, and upon seeing me in that state, instinctively dropped the formal title and called me “Miss” again.

Even after I had rebuked her and drawn a line between us, Cecilia’s old nurse still rushed to embrace me without hesitation.

“I stayed back so as not to interrupt your conversation with the Count… but what on earth did he say to you?”

I clung to her, panting, and managed a name.

“Ricardo.”

“What?”

Gripped by fear, I spoke the only name that came to mind.

“Bring Ricardo, Martha. I need him. Only he can save me. Please, Martha, go find him.”

I whispered like the madwoman Edgar claimed me to be.

Martha held me close and murmured again and again that it would be all right. That she would bring him.

“I’ll get him for you, Miss. I’ll bring him here. But you need to go lie down. We’ll take off these heavy clothes and get you some warm tea. A bit of rest, and you’ll feel better, you’ll see.”

She half-carried, half-dragged me back to my room.

Stripped of the heavy layers, I lay down in just a thin negligee.

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