No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 79

Isla lowered her eyes quietly, but the frustration beneath her lashes was impossible to miss.

“Now that you’re favored by Her Majesty, I must look like a joke to you.”

The noblewoman who had been keeping Lady Rosette company stiffened slightly at Isla’s remark.

Lady Rosette looked uneasy as well.

She should have scolded her daughter, but with so many people watching, she seemed torn between disciplining Isla and preserving her pride.

Though Isla sat some distance away, her words were loud enough for those nearby to hear.

The guests leaned in, curious to see how I would respond to my stepsister’s outburst.

Even Marchioness Federica remained silent, watching how I would handle it.

A lady-in-waiting to the Queen couldn’t afford to be openly emotional—but she also couldn’t appear weak or passive.

“You’re so lucky, Sister. Father chose Count Linton for you in advance, and even on his deathbed, he left a will reminding you of that promise.”

Isla continued, her words now directly accusing our late father of having favored his child from his first marriage.

“It makes perfect sense that Her Majesty likes you. Daughters who were loved by their fathers are said to live happy lives. And the Queen, being the most noble woman in the kingdom, would surely want a lady-in-waiting who was showered with love.”

When I didn’t reply, Isla grew bolder and her tone more biting.

Lady Rosette had gone pale. I quietly exhaled.

I had waited for Isla to slip—and it had been worth it.

She was too simple-minded to see the bigger picture. Her only intent had likely been to highlight that the Queen overlooked the status of a stepmother’s child.

But in her jealousy, she had completely forgotten that the Queen herself hadn’t grown up knowing a father’s love.

“Isla!”

“What are you talking about, Isla?” I said, finally responding. “Even before Father passed, I barely saw him. I was so sick back then I couldn’t even eat meals with the family—I had to stay in my room.”

What I said was true. Cecilia had lived a very lonely life in the Rosette household.

It had always seemed strange that, just before his death, the Count suddenly declared Edgar would care for me.

Cecilia had doubts too, but at the time, she was too caught up in the hope of finally having a real family to question it.

“And Lady Rosette has always been so devoted to you. I still remember when you caught a cold—she never left your side, caring for you herself. Honestly, I used to be a little envious of that.”

The atmosphere changed. The other guests’ gazes grew cold.

I had just said I was too ill to eat at the family table. And while catching a cold isn’t serious, being born with weak health is.

So Lady Rosette had ignored a chronically ill daughter, yet personally nursed the one who had a simple cold? That painted a different picture—one where it was she who had played favorites.

“Maybe Father remembered me at the very end because he felt guilty. You had your mother, but I… I had no one. Perhaps he finally realized that if he died, I’d be left completely alone.”

I finished and glanced toward Marchioness Federica.

She was smiling—calm and satisfied.

Isla’s accusations hadn’t been sharp. If I hadn’t handled them properly, the Marchioness might’ve sent me back to Edgar, no matter how much the Queen insisted on keeping me.

“I must’ve failed in raising your sister,”

Lady Rosette said, looking truly apologetic as she turned to me.

Isla’s cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

“Mother! Why are you apologizing? You said it yourself—how upset you were that Father gave all his love to her!”

Lady Rosette’s expression froze. She stood abruptly.

She made her way around the long table toward me, looking as though she might drop to her knees at any moment.

“Please don’t take Isla’s words to heart. I should have sent her to a convent for training long ago.”

I reached out and took Lady Rosette’s hands.

I couldn’t let her kneel before me—not here. Whatever else she was, she was still my stepmother, and the mistress of the Rosette household.

“I know she’s still growing up. Don’t worry, Lady Rosette. Isla is just young. A few more years under your guidance, and I’m sure she’ll come to understand your heart.”

Lady Rosette glared at me with sharp eyes.

Isla was already past the age of engagement, and with my single remark, I had reduced her to a child—someone immature and in need of a few more years of motherly correction.

“Well, at least one of my daughters turned out well. Why not keep Cecilia close, and let Isla learn from her?”

I wanted to refuse outright—but doing so would have looked ungracious.

“Lady Isla learning from Cecilia?”

A cutting laugh broke the tension. I turned toward the voice—Margaret.

“I’ve never heard of a married woman with a different last name mentoring her younger sister while their mother is still alive.”

I glanced at the Viscountess of Damier to gauge her reaction.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem offended. If anything, she watched Margaret with mild curiosity.

“Lady Margaret, it’s quite rude to involve yourself in another family’s affairs.”

Lady Rosette responded gently, but her words were a subtle jab at Margaret’s background.

“Is that so? Maybe I just don’t know better. I was raised by my mother before coming to the Artois barony, so I’m unfamiliar with these customs. But even she told me—once a woman is married and has children, she becomes her own person. And from then on, she should treat her family of birth with appropriate distance and respect.”

In this kind of argument, Margaret had little to lose.

She had always been known for speaking her mind and acting recklessly.

In contrast, Lady Rosette had to maintain her reputation as a dignified noblewoman.

Even after the death of Count Rosette, she was praised as a noble lady for never remarrying and continuing to uphold the family estate—that image was everything to her.

I thought Margaret had made a clever move.

She must have realized that the Viscountess of Damier had her in mind for a potential match.

By taking my side, Margaret made it clear that she had the protection of Marchioness Federica, that she was close to someone soon to serve the Queen, and—most importantly—that once married, she would draw a clear line between herself and her low-born mother.

The Viscountess seemed to understand the meaning behind Margaret’s words. She gently patted the back of Margaret’s hand with a warmer expression.

“I don’t see anything wrong in what Lady Margaret said. I’ve heard how dearly Lady Rosette cherishes her stepdaughter. But still, once a child marries, even a birth mother must treat her with proper respect and boundaries.”

The scales had already tipped in my favor.

Lady Rosette may have been a countess, but Viscount Damier was a trusted noble of the King.

Without a son in her family to climb the ranks, Lady Rosette had little choice but to step back.

“You’re right, Viscountess. I’ve been too familiar with Cecilia because I care so much for her. Forgive me, Cecilia.”

“I know your heart well, Lady Rosette. Isla is your treasure.”

That was all I said.

Now that the tension had settled, Marchioness Federica ordered dessert to be served.

Lady Rosette returned to her seat and had no choice but to swallow sweet pastries that now tasted bitter.

I sent a grateful glance to Margaret and the Viscountess of Damier.

Margaret smiled brightly, while the Viscountess gave me a knowing look, glancing back and forth between us before nodding slightly.

As the luncheon wound down, the older ladies joined Marchioness Federica in the conservatory for casual conversation.

The younger women were allowed to explore the garden.

Unmarried girls, however, were kept in the conservatory with their mothers—trapped like birds in a gilded cage.

I walked through the garden with Margaret.

We passed guests offering polite greetings and made our way deep into the maze.

After staying at the Marchioness’s estate for some time, I had memorized most of the layout and wasn’t worried about getting lost.

Only after I had led anyone who might’ve been following us into dead ends and scattered them away did I allow myself to relax.

“What’s going on?”

Margaret finally asked, checking to make sure no one was around before lowering her voice.

“Count Linton couldn’t have really sent Cecilia here just to rest.”

I told her the truth.

Margaret was almost certainly going to marry the eldest son of Viscount Damier.

Once I divorced Edgar, and she became the Viscountess of Damier, she could help spread word of the humiliations I had endured. It would make things easier.

Of course, I didn’t mention Ricardo.

“That bastard.”

Margaret muttered a quiet curse once she’d heard the whole story.

“I thought he looked suspicious from the start—pale and sly. Why on earth did Count Rosette choose him for Cecilia?”

She immediately looked regretful and offered an apology.

“I don’t mean to speak ill of Count Rosette. I’m sure he didn’t know. Count Linton is rotten inside—someone as upright as Count Rosette wouldn’t have been able to see through him.”

Her words didn’t upset me. Count Rosette wasn’t my real father.

Even if he had been, I wouldn’t have been all that heartbroken.

My real father had been far worse than Count Rosette, but I had made peace with that. Having a daughter like me made up for it.

It was Cecilia I felt sorry for.

If there’s a life after death, maybe they’ve already met and resolved their misunderstandings—finally becoming the father and daughter they were meant to be.

Cecilia was someone who could make that happen.

I shook my head, trying to push thoughts of their missed connection out of my mind.

“It’s a blessing that Her Majesty took a liking to Cecilia. If not for that, who knows what might’ve happened.”

Margaret tried to comfort me.

I didn’t want to talk more about myself, so I shifted the topic to the Viscountess.

“Lord Álvaro seems like a good man.”

Margaret answered coolly, not like someone discussing her future husband, but like an outsider making an assessment.

“He said he’s willing to marry anyone his family chooses, and hopes they’ll become friends. A friendly couple, that’s all.”

“That’s not bad. There are plenty of married couples worse off than friends.”

I echoed her tone, trying to sound just as detached.

“Exactly. I have no big expectations of him, and I doubt he has any for me. That’s probably why we’ll get along fine.”

We reached the fountain at the heart of the maze and sat on the bench nearby.

We’d walked quite a bit, and the back of my heel throbbed from the shoes.

As I debated whether to take them off, I heard a rustling sound.

“Ma—Madam…”

When I turned my head, to my surprise, it was Sarah.

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