What’s Wrong With My Marriage? I Was Bought as a Wife, Yet My Husband Is Madly in Love With Me! - Chapter 39

At a tea party with her friends, Mirella sought to soothe her heart, which had been wounded by the treatment she received from her incompetent older sister, Luce.

However, the topic of conversation among her friends was not Mirella’s dress.

“Oh, have you all heard? It seems a Princess from the Kingdom of Ghoolam was visiting the Royal Capital.”

“My older sister said she caught a glimpse of them at an evening party. She said the Princess and her brother participated together, and dressed in the traditional attire of Ghoolam, they were the very definition of ‘exquisite.'”

“I borrowed a newspaper from my father that features their portraits. Would you all like to see?”

Encouraged by a chorus of “Of course!” a young lady called over a servant and had him bring the newspaper.

(She isn’t even that cute… And Mother said newspapers are things for men to read. Clever women are hated; my condolences to her.)

Mirella twisted her face in a look of boredom, but since everyone else’s interest was fixed on the paper, no one noticed.

“Look, here. These are the portraits of the famous Ghoolam siblings.”

“My, what a beautiful person.”

“Incredible, it’s as if they’re alive right here.”

“I heard they used a magic tool currently being researched in Ghoolam. It captures a scene and imitates it onto paper.”

“To think such a thing exists… how wonderful.”

Mirella stole a glance at the newspaper.

(The Prince is actually quite handsome, though not as much as I am pretty.)

If she was going to marry, she wanted someone worthy of her. Since her useless sister Luce had managed to marry a nouveau riche Count, Mirella believed she could certainly find someone even better.

“There is an article here with a statement from the Princess of Ghoolam.”

“Oh, would you please read it for us?”

“I’d love to hear it.”

At their urging, the young lady who brought the paper began to read aloud with a look of self-importance.

“…’I, Adelheid, have made a wonderful friend in this country. A brilliant woman who is well-versed in the literature of Ghoolam. Thanks to her, I have come to love this nation’… it says.”

“Does it say who this friend is?”

“I wonder who it could be.”

Silencing the ladies who were all leaning forward in curiosity, she began reading again.

“‘With my deepest affection to Mrs. Luce Barth, who helped me when I was stranded in my carriage…’ Luce?”

The air in the room seemed to freeze. The gazes of the young ladies pierced through Mirella.

“M-my sister? That’s impossible. It must be a mistake, a different person.”

“But it says ‘Luce Barth.’ There is no one else who married Count Barth besides your sister, is there?”

“What does this mean? Was the Princess deceived?”

“Surely not. It says right here that at first, the Princess could only speak the language of Ghoolam. She says she can speak our language fluently now because she was taught through an exchange of letters.”

“How is that possible?” The ladies’ gazes grew sharp. Mirella was certain Luce had cheated. After all, letters could be written by anyone.

She insisted that someone from the House of Barth must have written them on her behalf. However, one lady nearby furrowed her brow and spoke.

“…Even if the letters were ghostwritten, what about the conversation?”

“S-she must have hired a translator! My sister is incompetent, she hates studying, and she never even had a tutor!!”

“I have been wondering about something for a while now.”

The lady who had been reading the newspaper asked Mirella in a quiet, steady tone.

“If she is as incompetent as you say, then why on earth do your parents do nothing about it?”

“Eh?”

“I mean, she is an embarrassment to your family name just by existing, is she not? Excuse my rudeness, but with all these rumors ruining the Orlov family’s dignity, one would normally expect her to be removed from the noble registry. Even if she were ‘uncontrollable,’ she was under her parents’ protection; they could have done whatever they wished with her.”

Mirella recalled what Cassandra had said with a troubled face and repeated it: “That’s because my parents are kind and were only showing mercy to poor Luce.”

“That is exactly what I find incomprehensible. If she is that much of a burden, they should have cut ties with her the moment she married into the House of Barth. Yet, based on what you told us before, did you not go out of your way to visit her?”

“That was… because we were worried about her…”

“Even though you knew she would be ‘mean’ to you?”

“Because her personality is so twisted…!”

“In that case, wouldn’t it be better simply not to go near her? While there are social obligations among relatives, at the very least, you didn’t have to visit her alone.”

Mirella could find no words to strike back. She could only stand there, her face contorted in frustration.

(I wonder if this was really for the best. But leaving the Capital… being able to physically distance myself from the Orlov family brings such a sense of relief.)

At the very least, they couldn’t just show up at the estate without notice anymore. Nor would she run into them on the streets of the Capital and be harassed.

Luce personally felt it would be fine to cut ties with her parents’ house entirely. However, it wasn’t that simple.

Despite treating Luce so poorly, the Orlov family refused to let go, seeing her as the golden egg that led to Klaus Barth—a man who earned limitless amounts of money.

(…I suppose in their minds, they think they are being ‘kind’ to me.)

Klaus had been skimming the newspaper, but noticing Luce’s sigh, he spoke up.

“Family problems are not something that can be fixed easily. People on the outside might say you’re being indecisive, but it can’t be helped.”

“Klaus.”

“When I remember my mother, I feel regret—wondering why I did those things to her. But at the same time, I also remember the feeling of truly hating her. …It’s strange, considering I reached a point where I couldn’t even eat.”

Seeing Klaus narrow his eyes as if recalling a distant memory, Luce instinctively reached out and squeezed his hand.