No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 98

Isla, who had been standing at the center of the stage, was now completely hidden beneath the folds of her elegant dress.

Whether she had quietly slipped away—like she once did in the courtroom when Lady Rosette forced her to flee—or was still standing there, simply unnoticed, no one could be sure. Regardless, everyone ignored her, almost as if they had agreed to do so in advance.

As more and more men began entering the ballroom, Isla’s presence faded even further into the background.

Since a debutante ball was an event where young ladies formally presented themselves to the Queen upon coming of age, men were strictly forbidden from entering until the introduction ceremony was over.

Only after the ritual did the gentlemen enter—almost as though the young ladies were goods being displayed for sale after passing quality inspection. That might sound harsh, but watching the men scanning the room, their eyes darting nervously from one group of girls to another, it didn’t seem like such an exaggeration.

According to the rules, Ricardo shouldn’t have been there either.

Even older, married men were expected to keep their distance from debutantes. Yet Ricardo—an unmarried man of perfect marrying age—had shown up.

Naturally, the girls couldn’t take their eyes off him. Until recently, everyone had believed he was merely the illegitimate son of Duke Bastian. But now it was clear he wasn’t just incredibly handsome—he also had enough political influence to earn the Queen’s personal favor.

But since I knew what was really going on, I could only sigh. Ricardo hadn’t come to check out the eligible young ladies ahead of the crowd. He was here because he couldn’t accept the fact that Margaret was attending with me while he was left behind.

The first men to rush into the ballroom were clearly older and desperate, well past their prime marriage age.

Their glossy eyes were filled with nervous energy, as if convinced that if they were even a second too slow, all the best girls would be taken. They scanned the line of debutantes like shoppers at a clearance sale.

But the young ladies had been well-trained. Knowing the first arrivals were often the least desirable, they focused instead on the men who walked in with calm, steady steps—those who carried themselves with elegance and confidence.

“Your Highness.”

Then a man entered who made several girls’ eyes light up at once. He walked toward the throne and offered a graceful bow.

“Lady Margaret.”

The Viscountess of Damier beamed with pride.

The tall, striking man was her son—the eldest son of the former Viscount Damier, and now head of the Damier household.

“I would like to request Lady Margaret’s first dance. I know I’m not much of a dancer, and it’s taking everything I have just to make this request without losing my nerve.”

“If you weren’t the Viscount, you’d probably be left standing by the wall. Come back after those lovely young ladies have had their first dances.”

Margaret accepted his offer without the slightest sign of embarrassment.

What caught my attention was how comfortable the two of them looked together.

The Viscount didn’t flinch at Margaret’s straightforward response. He also didn’t laugh like someone amused by her quirks. He simply accepted her, without judgment or condescension.

“Well, with your mother guarding Lady Margaret like a hawk, who would dare try to claim someone from the Damier family? I can rest easy now.”

Watching the Viscount, calm and composed, declare that Margaret already belonged to his family made me rethink everything I knew about their relationship.

Just like Margaret had once told me, their engagement didn’t seem like a mere formal agreement.

If it were, the Viscount wouldn’t have publicly claimed her as someone under his protection with such quiet sincerity.

“The Viscount may seem perfect, but he has a bad habit of teasing people,” Margaret said with a sigh.

The Viscountess responded like a mother defending her own daughter, chiming in to scold her son with playful affection.

“Honestly, if it weren’t for you, Madam, I would have locked myself away forever, never married, or ended up in a convent. Since you coaxed me out, you’ll have to take responsibility.”

“Of course. Who knows better than I how that boy looks polished on the outside but is hollow on the inside? Margaret, don’t you worry. If Daniel ever gives you trouble, come straight to me. I’ll set him straight.”

Their exchange didn’t feel like that of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law at all. It felt like real family.

Yes, if the Viscount ever did something foolish, it was clear where the Viscountess’s loyalty would lie. But still, the peace that Margaret had managed to establish—even if only on the surface—was admirable.

“So, how long do you plan to enjoy your newlywed life?” the Queen suddenly asked, her voice laced with interest.

“It’s not just because you’re Cecilia’s friend—Lady Margaret, I truly like you. I hesitated to bring it up because you’re not yet married and your time is precious, but I hear you’ll soon be the new Viscountess of Damier?”

The Viscountess smiled warmly and replied that three months should be more than enough—after all, Margaret wasn’t marrying at too young an age.

“Three months, is it…”

“As Your Majesty knows, our Margaret adores Lady Cecilia. Like a child, she wants to do everything Cecilia does.”

I had a feeling I knew what she was about to say next.

Margaret must have carefully worked this all out with the Viscountess in advance.

“Well then, have you set the wedding date? Cecilia’s quite capable, but handling everything alone has been difficult. If Lady Margaret joins her, it would be a huge help.”

“Just serving Your Majesty is already an incredible honor. I’m grateful beyond words that you’d also care about something as small as a maid’s friendship.”

So, the Viscountess had intended from the beginning for Margaret to become the Queen’s second lady-in-waiting.

And Margaret, in turn, had cleverly emphasized that strength, winning the Viscountess’s support. It was a clean, calculated deal.

“Ahem.”

While the Queen, Margaret, and the Viscountess exchanged satisfied smiles, Ricardo let out a clearly annoyed cough.

“What is it, Ricardo?”

“Your Majesty, selecting a lady-in-waiting is not something to take lightly. Of course, the Viscountess is a woman of great integrity, and the Damier family is beyond reproach—but Lady Margaret’s character is… a little concerning.”

“In comparison to Sir Ricardo, I’m practically an angel. I don’t think that’s an exaggeration.”

“What kind of angel descends to Earth just to speak such nonsense? I worry Lady Cecilia might grow tired and run away.”

I focused on the circular formation of the dance. I had no interest in getting dragged into a petty argument where there was nothing to gain from winning and nothing to lose from giving in.

“My goodness, this is the first time I’ve seen Cecilia so focused on something. Just this alone proves how poor a claimant Sir Ricardo is. I mean, Viscount Damier even reserved my first dance—but Sir Ricardo, who calls himself Cecilia’s claimant, nearly left her standing like a wallflower.”

No. That’s not it, Margaret. If I hadn’t vowed to stay out of this argument, I would’ve jumped in to correct her right away.

At least Ricardo was the kind of person who would instinctively deny anything Margaret said.

But…

“I see,” he said.

Wait—what happened to the denial? Ricardo stepped out from behind the Queen and walked straight toward me, lowering himself onto one knee.

Now, Ricardo kneeling before me wasn’t exactly new. It had become almost routine. Nothing to get worked up about—if we weren’t in the middle of a debutante ball surrounded by nobles.

“Lady Cecilia,” he said.

I had only recently come to appreciate Ricardo’s looks, but now I realized his voice, echoing across the ballroom, was just as striking.

“As your claimant, I ask you to honor me with the first dance.”

His low voice pronounced the word claimant with unusual softness. I couldn’t help but wonder—did either Margaret or Ricardo even know what that word truly meant?

The couples dancing in precise geometric patterns began to look our way, their formation unbroken but their attention now on us.

Among them, one girl—who had earlier dared to send Ricardo a bold look—was now biting into her handkerchief in frustration.

“I give my permission,” said the Queen, without hesitation.

“They say a knight’s loyalty belongs to his lady. Sir Ricardo may have only recently received his knighthood, but in that short time, he’s already chosen a lady to devote his heart to. Truly, a model knight.”

I had never heard anyone say a knight’s duty was to fall in love. Judging by the stunned looks around the ballroom, neither had anyone else.

But no one had the courage to challenge the Queen, so the nobles around us simply murmured words of admiration for Ricardo’s chivalry.

“The floor is yours,” the Queen added.

But the dance floor wasn’t empty. The orchestra was still in the middle of playing the debutantes’ first dance.

Still, the Queen seemed pleased as the musicians hurried to stop, as if she were admiring how quickly her words were obeyed. She even put on an expression of amused approval—how devoted you all are.

“…Lia,” Ricardo said, calling me by the nickname he’d decided on all by himself.

When I looked at him, his pleading eyes locked onto mine.

I hated to admit it, but I had a weakness for that look in his eyes—one that felt like a mad devotion disguised as love. It was the gaze of someone who seemed perfectly sane at first glance, but in truth wasn’t at all.

And now that the Queen had already given her public approval, if I refused to take Ricardo’s hand, it would be seen as an insult to her.

“The honor is mine, Sir Ricardo,” I said.

It wasn’t until I stepped onto the floor that I remembered—I had no idea how to dance in this world.

“Ricardo,” I whispered urgently.
“I don’t know how to dance.”

He paused in the middle of adjusting his stance. Clearly, in the excitement over Margaret’s provocation, he’d completely forgotten I wasn’t actually Cecilia—that I was someone else entirely, from another world.

“Put your hand on my shoulder. The other hand on my waist. I’ll handle the steps. All you need to do is follow my lead and look like you belong here.”

As soon as he finished whispering, the music began again. Whether in this world or the one I came from, dancing had never been part of my life.

To avoid looking completely out of place, I leaned into Ricardo and followed his every move. From what I’d seen earlier while trying to stay out of their fight, such close physical contact between two people who weren’t married might be considered improper.

But there wasn’t much choice. A bit of impropriety was better than showing a lack of basic etiquette.

I didn’t love Edgar. And now, with the added bonus of separating from him, my arrangement with Cecilia was beautifully fulfilled—with interest.

Now was not the time to spark rumors suggesting Cecilia lacked the intelligence and manners to run a household, turning a well-executed deal into a scandal.

Clinging to the much taller Ricardo and stepping wherever he led made me feel like a cicada stuck to a tree trunk.

Ricardo, for his part, was trying to keep a straight face for the sake of appearances—but his overflowing satisfaction couldn’t be hidden. It was already fueling a whole new set of rumors.

“So he’s Cecilia’s claimant? Clearly, it’s not just about duty.”

“If this is what counts as chivalry now, who in the kingdom wouldn’t qualify as a knight?”

“Look at Sir Ricardo’s face. He’s always looked so cold and annoyed, but now he’s absolutely melting in front of Lady Cecilia.”

This was all Ricardo’s fault. He wore his mask of arrogance too well.

If he had even pretended to be a more cheerful noble, no one would’ve been shocked by the change in his expression. No one would’ve called it “melting.”

If I had practiced dancing even a little, I would’ve stepped on his toes—accidentally, of course. But with how little I knew, I was too busy just keeping up with his footwork to even try.

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