No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 76

The Marchioness, Lady Federica, stormed off to her bedroom without eating dinner, even though it was still early in the evening.

Thanks to that, I ended up eating alone, under the cold, disapproving gaze of the maids in the Marchioness’s household.

I did feel guilty toward Lady Federica, but not enough to skip my meal over it.

Now that Ricardo had given his full support, it was clear the Queen’s decision wouldn’t be reversed. That alone eased much of my anxiety.

But I still had no idea how I was supposed to deal with Ricardo going forward.

What confused me most was that, even after going through enough to destroy any illusion he might’ve had about me from a distance, he still wanted to stay close to me.

He once confessed that he couldn’t help wanting me because I was the only one who truly understood him. But hadn’t I told him, more than once, that I didn’t understand him at all?

I was walking in the garden, hoping to digest a dinner that sat heavy in my stomach.

Staying inside would’ve only meant more resentful glances from the Marchioness’s maids.

“Lia.”

I’d walked this path through the hedge maze so many times that I knew it by heart. Just then, someone stepped out from behind one of the tall bushes.

“I figured you’d be out for a walk. I guess we’ve reached the kind of connection where no words are needed.”

It was Ricardo. He seemed moved by something only he understood, muttering to himself like he was caught in a moment of wonder.

“Ricardo. People follow routines. Walking is part of mine. Even if it wasn’t you, one of the maids would’ve come looking for me.”

I was still trying to fix whatever was wrong with Ricardo.

He said he didn’t love me. If he had to name what he felt, he called it loyalty and reverence.

But look at him—his face lighting up when he saw me, the black suit he wore that always reminded me of mourning clothes, the way he gave everything for someone else even when he had nothing to gain.

If that’s not love, then what is?

More and more, Ricardo was becoming like my mother—or like Cecilia.

I couldn’t say who was better. But unlike them, Ricardo didn’t seem to expect anything in return for what he gave.

“Should I be teaching you that it’s wrong to trespass on someone’s property just because you missed them?”

I used a deliberately sharp tone to deflect the weight of his gaze.

“And maybe also that calling someone by a name they didn’t approve is just as rude.”

Ricardo didn’t seem to care—just as I expected.

Even when I treated him coldly, he looked just as happy as when I showed concern.

“You could’ve told me tomorrow, but isn’t it more exciting to see things in person?”

“See what?”

Ricardo grinned.

“The fire show.”

I was speechless.

Sir Juan had just written back yesterday saying he’d go through with it.

Count Linton’s mansion didn’t have many servants, mostly because of Edgar’s intense paranoia. But it certainly wasn’t lax enough to let a disgraced knight come and go unnoticed.

“I thought Sir Juan was sane…”

“Matias is a knight who’s seen war. A man who’s killed can’t possibly be all there.”

Sir Juan did wear a sword at his waist, though I’d never seen him draw it.

Now that I thought about it, his scabbard had always looked unusually thick and sturdy compared to others.

His stubborn refusal to take Justin as a squire also made sense, if it came from his experience in war.

It was easy to imagine—he’d killed before, and perhaps didn’t want to pass that burden on to someone else.

“So, are you going?” Ricardo pressed.

I hesitated.

Just sitting around and listening to him report things made me feel useless.

But agreeing to watch what could turn into a crime scene—that wasn’t an easy decision, even for me.

If Edgar saw me, it could ruin everything I’d been working toward.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, shifting the decision onto Ricardo.

Maybe that would help break whatever illusions he still had about me.

Hoping for that, I waited for his answer.

“You’re saying you’ll follow my lead?”

Ricardo’s voice lit up with excitement, far more than I expected.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you’d rely on me.”

He seemed to forget all the times I’d asked for his help in the past.

“Part of me wants to say no, but… maybe this is a test. We shouldn’t ignore that possibility.”

Watching Ricardo struggle with a test I hadn’t even suggested made me wonder if I was the one overthinking things.

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

“I said, let’s go. To the fire show.”

I had hoped to fix whatever was wrong with Ricardo—but somehow, I’d only made his condition worse.

I quickly stopped him before he could say anything more ridiculous.

“Can I borrow your coat? If I stop by the room and run into a maid, I might not be able to get out again. But if I wear your clothes, even if Edgar sees me from a distance, he might not realize it’s me.”

Ricardo, looking a bit dazed, took off his jacket and handed it to me.

It was large enough that if I pulled it over my head, it would easily hide my face.

“This should be enough. What about the carriage?”

“I… rode here on a horse…”

“You want me to ride again? A carriage would be better. It’s not like anyone’s going to get a close look. Go rent one.”

Ordering him around like this seemed to help—maybe it kept his thoughts from spiraling too much.

Ricardo’s fantasies were so far-fetched, it was easier to just stop them altogether than try to reason with them.

I shook my head as I watched him hurry off through the hedge wall to get a carriage. This was only a temporary fix.

I couldn’t stay by his side all day, so there was no way to completely stop his imagination.

“Why does he even like me?”

I said the question out loud. Ricardo would probably deny it, but he clearly liked me.

“Maybe it’s something like a duckling imprinting.”

They say when ducklings hatch, they follow the first thing they see, thinking it’s their mother.

Ricardo once told me he lived in a world where no one treated him like a real person—until he met me.

But if that’s the case, then Margaret and Penelope were in similar situations. They got the same treatment from me.

Suddenly, a strange and unsettling thought crossed my mind—what if Margaret and Penelope also wanted to act like Ricardo, but were holding themselves back because of their social status and money?

I remembered the day Margaret risked her life, galloping in on horseback to protect me from Lady Rosette. That “what if” started to feel less like a silly idea and more like a real possibility.

A shadow fell over the hedge wall. Ricardo had returned.

“Lia. I got the carriage.”

Why was he smiling like that? He’d run around, sweat pouring, his nice clothes all wrinkled—and yet he looked genuinely happy.

I stepped through the gap in the hedge he’d made and climbed into the small carriage.

Ricardo took the reins himself, sitting in the coachman’s seat.

It wasn’t too late yet, so there were still people out on the streets.

But no one paid attention to the little rental carriage, so I relaxed and looked out the window.

I had been cooped up in Marchioness Federica’s estate for weeks. Out here, the world hadn’t changed at all.

Even though I expected that, a faint sadness crept in.

The person I used to be wouldn’t have felt something like this. Was it just leftover emotion from Cecilia’s body?

Ricardo stopped the carriage on a gentle hill where we had a clear view of the Linton estate.

“You checked all this out beforehand?”

“Yeah. When the fire starts, you’ll see smoke rising from over there. People will come running out this way. While that’s happening, Matias will meet the old nanny and steal the diary. The escape route is out back. Her son is waiting there. Can you see him?”

I couldn’t. No matter where Ricardo pointed, all I saw were blurry shapes in the dark.

“You really can’t see?”

Ricardo started explaining again in detail, but I cut him off, saying my ears were ringing.

Even then, I couldn’t stop scanning the mansion, trying to see if Sir Juan would really keep his word.

After a moment, a thin trail of white smoke began to rise—from the spot Ricardo had pointed to earlier.

“The fire’s smaller than I thought.”

“We don’t want Matias roasted before he can grab the diary.”

Ricardo narrowed his eyes, watching closely, then updated me on what he saw.

“Matias met the nanny. Looks like he’s holding something.”

He must have amazing eyesight.

I couldn’t see Sir Juan, or even Martha.

All I could make out was the crowd of people, startled by the smoke, rushing out like a swarm of ants.

“They’re heading toward the escape route.”

By then, the fire had grown—just like Ricardo predicted, it had become something like a fire show.

I could hear Edgar shouting from all the way up the hill.

“Put it out! Stop running around and get water!”

The servants panicked, running in all directions instead of following orders.

“Do you think the whole estate will burn down?”

“Sadly, it’ll be put out before that happens.”

He didn’t actually say “sadly,” but I could tell. Edgar’s wealth was built on Cecilia’s dowry. If the estate went up in flames, that would be a serious problem.

“That’s a relief.”

“If you want, I could burn it all—”

“It’s a relief,” I cut in, “that it’s not all going to burn.”

Ricardo misunderstood again.

“Half of that house is mine. If it weren’t for Cecilia’s dowry, it would’ve been sold off a long time ago. If it burns down, I’ll have less to claim.”

I added that part to make it clear—I wasn’t being generous.

“You’re smart, too?”

And once again, Ricardo took it the wrong way. At this rate, I started to wonder what would happen if he never snapped out of this fantasy.

Not that he ever would, as long as I was me. Still, looking at him made me wonder—what if?

“Young Lady!”

I heard Martha’s voice from a distance.

Turning around, I saw Justin and Sir Juan approaching too. As soon as Justin helped her down, Martha ran to me.

“Oh, my lady, my dear lady!”

And at that moment, I realized Ricardo’s feelings weren’t the only problem.

There was Cecilia’s old nanny, crying until her tears soaked through my chest. Justin sniffled beside her, and even Sir Juan looked strangely relieved.

I turned back to Ricardo.

Even though it should’ve felt like a warning, I didn’t mind the strange feeling that maybe—just maybe—divorcing Edgar wouldn’t mean saying goodbye to everyone.

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