No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 82

At last, the long and tiresome back-and-forth had come to an end. The day the Queen had set for my entrance into the palace was drawing near.

I had already summoned Penelope in advance to commission the dress I would wear for the occasion.

Marchioness Federica didn’t fully trust Penelope. I told her that Penelope had also made my first court dress, but the displeasure on her face didn’t fade.

“I’ve heard of that seamstress’s reputation,” she said. “And I also know who’s backing her.”

Her meaning was clear—since Penelope was supported by Ricardo, and the Marchioness disapproved of him, she didn’t want to trust anything associated with him.

“I have a dressmaker I regularly use, Cecilia. He’s very skilled—he even worked on Martha’s wedding dress. Let me bring him here.”

Even if he had only worked on the sleeves of the Queen’s gown, that alone would make him a renowned artisan. But judging from the Marchioness’s confident tone, it sounded like he had done far more than that.

“I wouldn’t dream of coveting someone who worked on Her Majesty’s gown. I’m very grateful for your kindness, but Madam Penelope’s work will be more than enough for me.”

My respectful refusal seemed to ease some of her displeasure.

It was really Ricardo who bothered her—not me. Once I made it clear I wasn’t trying to compete with the Queen or claim her position, she seemed to realize how her offer might have come across.

“You’re always so considerate. I’ve always known you were that kind of person, but hearing it again reassures me even more.”

Despite being the Queen’s grandmother, Marchioness Federica rarely attended social gatherings. That alone suggested she knew the rumors about the royal couple’s strained relationship were more than just gossip.

The King didn’t want the Queen’s family to be too visible or ambitious.

Coincidentally or not, Marchioness Federica’s husband passed away not long after receiving his title, due to a fall from his horse.

She had said she wished to live quietly in mourning, and even after the official mourning period ended, she limited herself to small, intimate tea gatherings with close friends.

Before I knew her true circumstances, I’d thought of Marchioness Federica as someone powerful—someone who could be my lifeline in difficult times.

Her tea gatherings were so exclusive that even noblewomen with young daughters watched them with envy, hoping for an invitation.

Those with less pleasant personalities whispered that she was arrogant just because she was the Queen’s grandmother. But no one openly criticized her.

In truth, the Marchioness’s family had been just as tightly restricted—living cautiously under the King’s scrutiny, afraid to step out of line.

She had only sent me an invitation because I was the Countess of Linton, a title that meant little in the King’s eyes.

The Linton family claimed loyalty to the crown but lacked the ability or accomplishments to be considered for important roles. The previous earl had lost the family fortune to gambling, becoming a laughingstock in society.

Josephine would have known all this. That’s why she likely judged that it was safe for Marchioness Federica to offer me minor support without raising suspicion.

I let out a quiet sigh. If this were purely about my personal situation, it would be simple. But one wrong step could escalate into a political struggle between royals and nobles. I had to move carefully—one step at a time.

“Please be kind to Martha. She gets lonely easily. I raised her with all my heart, but a grandmother’s love is not the same as a parent’s.”

Marchioness Federica’s face filled with concern. I nodded sincerely.

“Yes. I’ll treat Her Majesty like an older sister.”

“But don’t be too informal either,” she warned. “I say this not just for Martha’s sake. She’s the Queen, and people are watching her every move. You’ll soon become the lady-in-waiting she trusts the most, and that means you’ll need to be careful not to get swept up in gossip.”

Now that her frustration had settled, her warmth returned.

She had every reason to be wary of me—just as she was with Ricardo. And yet she expressed not only concern for the Queen but for me as well.

“If I had someone like you to look after me… I wouldn’t have wished for anything more.”

At my words, the Marchioness looked pained. After meeting Countess Rosette during the luncheon, she must have quickly understood what kind of stepmother I had.

Usually, Countess Rosette was careful with her words and appearance, always conscious of her reputation. But overwhelmed by my sudden rise in status, her usual caution had slipped.

On top of that, she made the mistake of bringing Isla with her. Countess Rosette likely wanted to show Isla off in front of the other noblewomen, hoping to present her as a desirable bride. But the plan had clearly failed.

Even Countess Rosette couldn’t offer sincere congratulations on my success. There was no way Isla could.

“Lady Isla Rosette… how should I put this… she’s rather spirited,” Marchioness Federica said carefully. I guessed Isla must have made another mistake in the greenhouse after the luncheon.

“Countess Rosette dotes on her. She gives her the best of everything—clothes, food, everything. I suppose Isla grew up without ever being told no.”

Marchioness Federica shook her head.

“Of course, it’s natural for a mother to love her child. But too much of anything can be worse than not enough. Lady Isla is a perfect example of that.”

Once I enter the palace, Isla’s reputation is likely to suffer. For the Queen’s sake, Marchioness Federica would likely make it clear that I had been seriously mistreated by my stepmother and owed her nothing.

Though she had lived in quiet retreat for many years, the Marchioness’s experience and insight were not to be underestimated.

She had known from the very beginning that I wanted something from the Queen.

Her first goal had been to prevent me from meeting Her Majesty—but thanks to Ricardo, that had failed. Her second attempt had been to change the Queen’s mind, but she hadn’t been able to bend her granddaughter’s will.

“Remember this, Cecilia.”

Marchioness Federica suddenly called out to me, her voice firm and serious.

“Martha may be the Queen, but that doesn’t mean she can do whatever she wants. Don’t place any unreasonable expectations on her. She likes you, and as long as nothing drastic happens, I believe the two of you will get along like sisters.”

I gently reached out and placed my hands over her aged, wrinkled ones.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Madam.”

People respond to warmth. As expected, the moment my hands touched hers, some of the sternness left her expression.

“Good. That’s the end of my nagging. Don’t go thinking this old woman talks too much. They say age brings detachment, but I’ve never been that noble of a person.”

“How could I ever think of your concern for Her Majesty as nagging?”

Marchioness Federica laughed, saying I had a silver tongue, and told me she wouldn’t interfere anymore—I could spend my remaining days of freedom before entering the palace however I liked.

“There’s no need to show up for meals just to get on my good side. Once you’re in the palace, life will be strict whether you like it or not. So until then, be as lazy as you want.”

So, I did. Marchioness Federica wasn’t one to say things she didn’t mean.

If I kept hovering around despite her words, she would probably think I had an ulterior motive and start feeling irritated.

During that time, I had several more dresses made—besides the one for my entrance into court, I had a few designed for palace life. Penelope, thrilled with the project, showed up at the marquess’s estate almost every day.

Not to be outdone, Ricardo visited daily too. He kept me updated on Martha and Justin.

“It looks like the Earl of Linton has finally given up on kidnapping those two again.”

“Really?”

I had thought Edgar too obsessive to let go of anything that could be used against me. It was surprising.

“Matias completely flipped out—he demanded to know if they thought it was okay to spy on a free knight just because he wasn’t nobility. The Earl of Linton values his reputation like it’s his life, so he panicked at the thought of causing a public scene and backed off.”

My thoughts on that?

“Sir Juan is like an onion. Every time you peel back a layer, something new shows up underneath.”

“Yeah, Matias is definitely that kind of guy,” Ricardo said with a grin. I gave him a sideways glance and helped Penelope stand from where she was crouched, sewing lace onto my dress hem.

“That’s enough lace. If you keep going, I’ll end up wearing lace, not a dress.”

“Oh, my lady! This is what’s trending right now! Lightweight lace, layered over and over—it breaks the dullness of past styles and adds a touch of mystery!”

No sooner had she straightened her back than she sat right back down and started sewing on the fifth layer of lace.

“Let her be. If there’s one thing Penelope can’t stand, it’s you being behind on trends.”

“Stay out of it, fashion less man. You were just wearing funeral suits a few weeks ago.”

Penelope fired back immediately. Ricardo pouted and made a face at me, clearly asking for backup.

Their banter was nothing new—it had always been this way. Ricardo pulling back now was just his way of asking for attention.

“At least now he wears navy.”

“Sure, the color changed, but look at that design! It’s terrible. Even an old man with a cane wouldn’t wear a two-piece like that.”

I had done my part. Ricardo looked at me expectantly, but I quietly looked away.

“If someone saw you two like this, they’d think you were the childhood friends, not me.”

“My lady is my muse! If I hadn’t known this guy since we were kids, I wouldn’t even be seen with him, dressed like a walking curtain!”

The Penelope who once wanted to be friends with Ricardo seemed long gone. Instead of pointing that out, I let her move me around, posing this way and that, just as she asked.

It was better to go along with her and get her on her way than to hear her call me a muse again.

“My lady, you are, as always, perfect. Just two more layers of lace, and this dress might finally live up to your elegance.”

To think a seven-layer lace dress was only just good enough. I clicked my tongue internally.

“Penelope, I never doubted your skill. I’ll be looking forward to the final result.”

Blushing, Penelope quickly stuffed the fabric and dress into a large bag and rushed out, promising to finish it soon. She didn’t even spare Ricardo a glance.

“You two are getting along, right?”

I asked, watching her climb into Ricardo’s carriage. Now without a ride, Ricardo tilted his head in a vague shrug.

“It’s rare for childhood friends to still match as adults.”

“As long as you’re not forcing her to stay close to you, that’s all I care about.”

Considering the things Ricardo had done for me in the past, it wasn’t a completely unfounded worry.

“If anything, she’s the one keeping me close. She knows being near me lets her see you more often—and more easily.”

As frustrating as it was, his point was valid.

“I hope Margaret isn’t the same.”

When I said that, Ricardo gave a crooked smile, one eye squinting slightly.

“She’s already found a new connection, hasn’t she?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to the idea that Margaret might want to become the Viscountess of Damier just to be close to me. I gave a slightly awkward smile.

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