No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 94

When I saw Count Edgar Linton appear in court, I knew for certain—he was aware.

He arrived sharply dressed, his hair slicked back with wax, clearly having taken his time to prepare.

Beside him stood Countess Rosette and Isla. A man who appeared to be his lawyer was also present, though he likely hadn’t had enough time to properly review the case. I didn’t need to pay much attention to him.

In this kingdom, the roles of ruler and judiciary weren’t clearly separated. Which meant that, at the highest seat of this court, it wasn’t the judge who sat—but the Queen herself.

She had ignored my attempts to dissuade her from attending and climbed up into the raised gallery, making the presiding judge wipe sweat from his brow over and over again.

“Who is the accuser?” the judge asked, following formal procedure though he already knew the answer.

Edgar looked at me, then turned to the sound of movement—Ricardo rising to his feet—and his expression twisted.

Apparently, Countess Rosette hadn’t told him everything.

Or perhaps the last thing she’d heard before fainting had been so outrageous, so unbelievable, that she’d forgotten it entirely after waking.

“Sir Ricardo. You are the knight who wishes to accuse Count Linton of violating the sanctity of marriage. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Perhaps out of respect for the court—or because of the Queen’s presence—Ricardo restrained his usual arrogance. He answered with the humility of someone playing the part of an honorable knight.

The judge, flustered by the Queen’s watchful gaze from above—especially since she was the only one occupying the gallery—still managed to offer Ricardo a brief, friendly nod.

I glanced toward the curtained witness box. I wondered if Elodie was behind it. According to Ricardo, she still hadn’t fully recovered from the trauma of her stillbirth.

She was trying desperately to regain the lark-like voice she once had, but all she could manage now was a hoarse rasp—as if, when God took the child, He had taken her talent too.

Even if Elodie hadn’t come, Martha and Justin had. Thanks to Sir Juan’s protection, they had escaped Edgar’s grip and were enjoying a small but peaceful life together.

Martha had read all of Cecilia’s diaries. After that, she swore to support whatever decision I made. She no longer saw Edgar as a man to respect but as someone who deserved to be struck down by lightning.

Edgar had always treated Martha like she was beneath even the dust in his house. But after today, hearing her testimony in full detail, he would regret not treating her better.

“Sir Ricardo,” the judge said, “regardless of whether your chivalry is honorable or not, are you aware that involving yourself in another’s private affairs could cause significant damage to your own reputation?”

“I may have received my knighthood only recently, but His Majesty once told me that a knight must always stand on the side of the weak and never hesitate to act in the name of justice. I was ashamed to realize how long I’d ignored that duty. And once I understood what justice meant—what I had to protect—I made this accusation. My only regret is that I was late in doing so, and that I failed Lady Cecilia.”

How eloquent.

I clicked my tongue as Edgar’s already-crumpled expression collapsed further—like a torn sheet of paper in a trash bin, now weighed down by more garbage.

“Objection!” Edgar’s lawyer raised his hand and shouted. The judge denied it, citing that the confirmation process with the accuser hadn’t yet concluded.

I glanced around the nearly empty courtroom. That, too, was the Queen’s doing. Only a few were allowed to attend this private hearing, and without the King’s consent, it wouldn’t have been possible.

But the Queen had gone to see him again, and the moment he realized she and his mistress would be in the same room, he lost his temper and gave her free rein.

That was exactly what she wanted.

The King may have thought those words would finally drive the Queen away—but in truth, they gave her all the control she needed. She didn’t interrupt their silly little affair again until the day of the trial.

“Countess Linton, do you acknowledge that the accuser’s testimony is truthful?” the judge asked.

“I do,” I said, calmly from the plaintiff’s bench.

Ricardo, too, was seated there, as the accuser. As we sat side by side, both affirming the charges, Edgar’s face crumpled further—like a half-burned sheet of paper yanked from the fire too late.

“The charges against Count Linton, as presented by the accuser, are as follows: spousal abuse, adultery, and theft of property that clearly belonged to the Countess as part of her dowry. Are these correct?”

I ignored the heat of Edgar’s stare brushing against my cheek and nodded at the judge.

The Queen had said that shedding a few tears would be my only task. But unfortunately, my eyes were dry. Brittle.

“Lady Cecilia, please use this,” Ricardo said.

He knew my face was dry, but he handed me a handkerchief anyway. I awkwardly took it and wiped my cheek for show—even though nothing had fallen.

“Where did the abuse charge come from?” I whispered, keeping half my face hidden behind the handkerchief.

Ricardo shrugged slightly.

“We’ll begin with the charges of abuse and adultery,” the judge said, doing his best to sound impartial—though it was clear he only wished to remain in the Queen’s good graces.

He didn’t even glance at Edgar’s lawyer, whose raised arm seemed to stretch high enough to scrape the ceiling. Instead, he called the first witness.

“Please state your name and position.”

The curtain drew back, and Martha stepped forward. Cecilia’s aging nanny was a stark contrast to me. While my cheeks remained dry, hers were already soaked with tears.

“My name is Martha. I was Lady Cecilia’s nursemaid.”

And behind her, Justin appeared—placing a hand gently on her shoulder to comfort her as she began to sob.

“Your witness?”

“Justin,” he replied. “This is my mother. I grew up alongside the young lady, almost like her brother. And later, Lady Cecilia honored me by allowing me to care for my aging mother.”

Justin’s eyes were tinged with red. If the courtroom had been full, surely someone would have been moved to tears by such loyal devotion.

“Objection!” Edgar’s lawyer shouted, practically leaning out of the defense bench.

“These two were dismissed from the Linton estate for theft. Clearly, they bear a grudge against the Count. Their testimony is biased and should not be considered credible!”

When Edgar first received his court summons, Martha and Justin were likely the first people who came to mind.

From his point of view, they were disgraceful—betrayers who had escaped his grasp and now sided with a woman he saw as unstable.

“My nursemaid,” I said as I stood calmly, “never stole so much as a brooch. After my mother died, she raised me with nothing but love. And if she ever had the intent to steal, she’d have done it back when we were still at the Rosette estate, not in the strictly ruled Linton household.”

“If she were ever tempted, she had countless chances before Countess Rosette arrived. As she used to say when I was young—the only treasure she ever wanted was me. But she didn’t steal me. She raised me, kept me safe until I came of age. That, to me, means she stole nothing.”

Those words came from Cecilia’s diary. When I’d first read them, I’d wondered if Martha had manipulated young Cecilia in hopes of securing a better future. But in the end, there was no wall to build between them.

The moment Martha read those diary entries, she changed completely. That was proof enough.

Maybe she had once hoped to gain something from Cecilia—but it had never come from cruelty or greed.

The trial was clearly turning against Edgar.

The judge pointedly ignored Edgar’s lawyer, and every witness so far had testified to my suffering.

“She’s mentally ill!”

Then came Isla.

“Isla!”

At her outburst, Countess Rosette rushed to cover her daughter’s mouth.

But Isla pulled away and crossed the courtroom to stand in front of the judge.

“She’s mentally unstable! One day she’s fine, the next she goes mad—hurts herself, screams, breaks down! Count Linton knew everything, and he still accepted her! How could she betray him like this?!”

Her finger pointed straight at me. I looked down at my bare arm—smooth, unscarred.

Even in the bath, I’d never found a single mark on my body.

“My mother did everything she could to protect her! She gave up her own property to keep my sister from being thrown away just because she had no dowry!”

“Stop it, Isla!” Rosette screamed, nearly hysterical.

The judge casually flipped through a few pages. “Ah. Dowry embezzlement. Right here.”

Rosette went pale. She must have hoped until the very end that it wouldn’t come to light.

Ricardo’s lawyer seized the moment and submitted the supporting documents.

The judge examined them, then turned to Edgar with thinly veiled contempt.

“The Nadon estate is registered under the Countess’s name—yet she claims she doesn’t even know where it is.”

“That’s true, Your Honor,” I said. “I’ve never heard of it until today.”

Adultery alone wouldn’t have carried much weight. But Martha’s sobbing filled the room like thunder.

“To think you’d steal her dowry, my Lord!” she wailed. “That land belonged to her mother—it was her marriage gift! And Lady Cecilia never even knew about it!”

Martha was crying so hard she could barely stay upright, her words stumbling out in broken pieces.

It was barely coherent enough to be formal testimony, but the clerk still wrote down every word.

“You smashed her vanity—right in front of her! You kicked the furniture, you broke things! I tried to look away! I told myself you’d eventually come to love her. That she’d finally be happy!”

“Shut up!”

Rosette lost all composure and lunged toward the stand like she meant to silence Martha herself. Court guards quickly stopped her.

I noticed Martha peeking at Rosette through the fingers covering her face. And I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Martha knew Rosette couldn’t hurt her—and that’s why she didn’t stop talking, not even for a moment.

“You stole her dowry! And then you had the nerve to claim she brought nothing into the marriage! You forced the Count to open his personal vault to ‘cover the shortfall’—and then you blamed her!”

“So the abuse is confirmed by testimony,” the judge said.

Edgar had been slipping into a daze since the middle of the trial. He wasn’t mentally strong enough for this. He couldn’t take being the target.

“There was no abuse,” Edgar finally said, forcing the words out. That was the one accusation he couldn’t bear.

It upset him more than the charge of stealing my dowry.

“Lady Isla might have exaggerated, but my wife did have mental health issues. I even considered sending her to the Convent of Saint Fidelphia. I thought she’d find peace there—and proper care.”

If this weren’t the Queen’s courtroom, Edgar’s words might have been effective.

Sending a mentally unwell wife to a convent was what a nobleman was expected to do.

He acted nobly until the very end—expecting everyone else to follow suit.

And that, ultimately, was his downfall.

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