Did You Think I'd Hate It?

How had they gotten divorced only for this?

Remarry him? Again?

The mere thought of it made her sick.

This is absurd.

After her family's fortunes had collapsed, there was scarcely a job she hadn't taken. Every kind of menial labor, embroidery piecework — she'd even sold handkerchiefs in secret on the street. With every last asset seized by the royal treasury, House Aroline was no longer a great merchant house. Just a fallen noble line. A star that had already set in high society.

And besides…

I already secured passage on a ship yesterday!

After the divorce, a friend who pitied her had offered her a post as an accountant in her trading company. With a legitimate reason to earn money at last, Riena had thrown herself into the work and nothing else. She no longer owed any duties as a noblewoman, and no one cared what a divorced lady did with her days.

Through sheer diligence she had, only yesterday, arranged a ship bound for the south.

"Please reconsider."

"…Reconsider?"

Those sharp, intelligent eyes narrowed to thin slits. Riena swallowed hard. He looked thoroughly displeased — the gaze he fixed on her was laced with frost.

No — maybe that's a good sign.

It meant he found this will as distasteful as she did. If she negotiated carefully, there was still hope.

"I understand this must be just as shocking for Your Grace. I never imagined the late Duke would leave a will like this either."

"…"

"We exchanged the occasional letter over the years, but nothing of this nature was ever mentioned beforehand. If you'd like, I can send you every one of them. And even if a remarriage proposal had come my way, I would have refused."

At the word refused, his tightly pressed lips twitched. Riena, who didn't catch it, pressed on with her explanation.

"And so?"

Herman handed her the floor, as if inviting her to say more. She seized the opening at once.

"Let me go."

"Anyone listening would think I'd kidnapped you."

"You know that isn't what I meant."

Riena carefully worked her lips. Her knuckles had gone white where she clutched her skirts — she hadn't realized how hard she'd been gripping them.

"It would be rude to keep a busy man any longer, so I'll be frank."

She never would have guessed she'd end up telling him of all people.

Until now, only one person had known of her plan to head south — the friend who'd hired her as an accountant. Life truly was unpredictable, she thought, and so she stopped hiding it and said it plain.

"I'll be leaving soon."

"Leaving?"

It was the most animated response he'd given all day. Clearly her presence had been weighing on him after all. This was the same man who usually steered every conversation with that unhurried, effortless composure.

Fair enough.

Riena nodded calmly. With anyone else she might have felt a little hurt — but Herman had always been an innately indifferent man. Someone who valued the honor of his house above any single person. There was nothing particularly new in that.

"Yes. If I'd wanted to remarry, I wouldn't have booked a ship."

"Where were you planning to go?"

"Roistellis."

"The southwestern province."

"That's right. I've already arranged a place to stay there."

In truth, she was nowhere near signing a lease — but she had a feeling he wouldn't believe her unless she drove the point home.

"Remarriage would be a burden for Your Grace as well. And I'm aware that marriage proposals have been pouring in for you lately."

"Who."

"Pardon?"

"Who told you that nonsense?"

Caught off guard, Riena blinked. Who had told her?

"It wasn't as if anyone specifically informed me. I simply… overheard it in the natural course of things."

Working for a trading company, she couldn't help but pick up all sorts of information. But when she'd heard that marriage offers were flooding in for her ex-husband, she had felt — honestly — nothing at all.

Of course I didn't.

A man who'd become head of his house so young. Remarriage or not, he had no children. And then there was that mountain of a frame, that towering height; those sharply defined features, raven-black hair, and jewel-like blue eyes that stood in such striking contrast. Objectively speaking, Herman von Bertis was an extraordinary beauty. Who in their right mind would turn down a man like that reentering the marriage market?

"Anyway, that isn't the point right now."

The conversation had drifted. Riena decided it was time to wrap this up.

"I've heard that even a late Duke's will can have exceptions."

And this was precisely such a case. In a calm voice, she laid out the most reasonable solution she had prepared.

"Please request mediation from His Majesty the King."

There was only one way to overturn a will: if the King, who received reports of a house head's testament, declined to approve it. Rare, yes — but not impossible.

"Neither of us wants this remarriage. So if you're willing, I'd like to ask you to request mediation."

Given both their circumstances, remarrying each other was a considerable risk. Having said everything she'd come to say, Riena stole a cautious glance at him.

She couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking. He simply stared at her.

There's no way he'd want this.

Or was there something giving him pause? As leader of the Royalist faction, his relationship with the Crown wasn't strained. Surely a request like this wouldn't be too much to ask. An alliance with a better house would serve him far better than one with a family already in ruins.

Knock, knock—

Just then, Hanson — who had stepped out earlier — returned. Glancing between the two of them, he spoke carefully.

"Your Grace. A word, if I may."

At the untimely interruption, Herman raised one eyebrow. Seizing the moment, Riena rose from her seat.

"Then I'll take my leave."

She'd already said everything she needed to say. She would have preferred an answer on the spot, but he clearly had a great deal on his mind.

I should prepare to enter the palace soon.

The King would be just as baffled as Herman. Once a mediation request came in, His Majesty would likely confirm their wishes and reverse the will without delay.

But just as she moved to leave the room—

"…Do you."

A quiet murmur caught her by the ankle.

"Do you think I'd hate it?"

Standing at the door, Riena's eyes flew wide as lanterns. Pupils blown large as a startled rabbit's took him in once more.

There was no subject attached — but she wasn't so dense as to miss his meaning.

In a dazed voice, she answered.

"Yes. Of course."

Not a shred of hesitation. Not even a flicker of expectation. Herman quietly clenched his fist.

Seeing his expression harden strangely, Riena blinked rapidly.

She had only given the correct answer.

"I'll call for you again shortly."

Then why… was he making a face like that?

Meanwhile, after Riena Aroline had gone.

Hanson, who had been hovering awkwardly to one side of the study, cleared his throat with a soft ahem.

What on earth is he thinking?

The face that had been so composed when he'd first heard the will now looked like a predator who'd just watched his catch slip away — thoroughly out of sorts.

Did he quarrel with Lady Aroline?

But if their opinions had clashed, that would be one thing. Both the Duke of Bertis and Riena had seemed skeptical of the will. The questions she'd put to Hanson earlier had made that clear enough.

Remarrying under the shadow of a ruined house would be an enormous burden for her as well. He'd gone so far as to review her recent activities just in case — and aside from working diligently, there was nothing remotely suspicious. Of course, certain other members of her family had been another matter…

"Hanson."

"Yes, Your Grace."

When the Duke finally spoke, his voice was colder than frost. Hanson tensed despite himself.

"Before we get to the point — one question."

"Ask freely, Your Grace."

What was he going to ask? About the will? The late Duke's list of assets? Any number of possibilities raced through his mind.

Then the Duke asked:

"Does she seem to hate it — to you as well?"

…Pardon?

"What do you mean by…"

Not quite grasping the intent, Hanson carefully asked again. But before he could pin down the precise meaning, the Duke dismissed it as a slip of the tongue and changed the subject.

"What was it you came to report."

"Ah — yes. It isn't anything else, precisely."

Idle curiosity flared, but Hanson was no fool. Herman von Bertis was a man who despised wasted time. If the house counsel couldn't even read his lord's mood, that would be a problem in its own right.

"Immediately after receiving the late Duke's will, I verified the holdings — real estate, bank accounts, mines, and the rest. As a result, I found that the majority of those assets account for more than half of House Bertis's total fortune."