Marry Me—or Get Caught
……Or so he told himself.
In the end, all they had talked about was work.
For a full three hours, no less.
“This is driving me mad.”
Having spent the evening deep in discussion of counterfeit banknotes until the night had grown late, Herman raked a hand through his disordered hair and let out a long sigh.
He had watched for every opening he could find.
But Riena was no easy mark.
If he let this slip—if he squandered even the final chance his father had given him—
He would lose her for good.
And then he would become a wreck of a man, shut up in his rooms doing nothing at all. He would pine for her his whole life and die of lovesickness at the tender age of twenty-nine.
“This is serious.”
Had he known it would come to this, he would have thoroughly read those Marriage First, Dating Later novels Tristan’s sister was always devouring.
He was still clutching his head over the problem when a knock sounded and Tristan hurried in with an urgent report.
“Your Grace. An emergency dispatch from the Royal Administration—ah, are you all right?”
The face that had been full of hope only that evening now looked thoroughly dejected.
Herman, who had given his face a rough dry wash, asked through another sigh,
“What’s in the dispatch?”
“Ah—yes. The Minister of Administration sent it in haste. Several merchant houses have collapsed over this counterfeit business, as you know. Well—one of them has been caught using those same counterfeits to evade taxes.”
“Insane.”
To pull a stunt that bold in the middle of the chaos.
Herman clicked his tongue and held out his hand. Tristan hurried to the desk and drew a letter from his coat.
Herman took it and tore the envelope open at once.
A moment later—
“…….”
Reading the contents, Herman’s brow furrowed.
Sensing he had finished, Tristan spoke carefully.
“Which leaves us in something of a… difficult position. If things go wrong, Her Ladyship—that is, Lady Arroline—could be branded an accomplice. And if it pulls her in any deeper, it could even touch Your Grace—”
“This could be useful.”
“I was going to say it could do harm… pardon?”
Tristan broke off mid-sentence and tilted his head.
Herman clenched the letter tight and surged up from his chair.
The following afternoon.
Riena paced the drawing room in mounting agitation.
She had thought she would be free to leave the moment the sun rose!
Instead Tristan had detained her, insisting she could not go until she had seen His Grace. Thanks to that, she had even taken lunch here, and her patience was finally fraying to its limit.
This won’t do.
If it had come to this, she would have to take a firmer line herself. A last will was a last will—but she wanted to start a new life now, too.
So the moment the Duke arrived, she would make it perfectly clear she had no intention of remarrying—
“I’ve kept you waiting.”
“!”
Riena spun around with a start.
Speak of the devil.
A man in immaculate dress uniform stepped into the drawing room.
He cut a tall, striking figure—but Riena had other priorities, and she crossed the floor a little too quickly.
“Your Grace. I need to speak with you.”
“Convenient. I have something to say myself.”
“Then please go first.”
Whatever he said, she had no intention of bending.
“You look short on time, so I’ll be brief.”
“Please, speak freely.”
“An arrest warrant for you will be issued shortly.”
“Ah. I see…….”
No. Wait.
“What?”
What was flying her way?
“W-what do you mean by that?”
An arrest warrant!
The answer was so far outside anything she had imagined that Riena simply blanked.
“I—I don’t understand…… Who would—why me?”
“There’s trouble at the place you used to work.”
“The Colin Merchant Troupe?”
“Yes.”
“W-why them? Is something wrong inside the firm……?”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes darted. Then she started and rushed to protest.
“No! That place isn’t—it isn’t the sort of place that would commit a crime. I know the head of the Colin Merchant Troupe personally. He’s greedy, yes, but he would never do anything illegal.”
He was greedy, she would grant that—but he was also a coward. Unless someone had threatened him, he would never take a real risk. If anything serious had been going on, she would have noticed.
So there had to be some misunderstanding. She opened her mouth to say they ought to look into it again—
“He ran.”
Worse news landed on top of the first.
“He… ran?”
“Fled in the night. Last night.”
Riena’s mind went empty; she blinked her wide eyes. Herman let out a breath that might have been a sigh and folded his hands together.
“The charge is tax evasion. Your friend used the counterfeit notes in reverse—to dodge his taxes.”
“That’s impossible!”
Tax evasion!
As the person who had handled the accounts, she found it almost impossible to accept.
“There’s no way. I don’t know about anything else, but when it came to money I measured every coin twice……!”
In a merchant house, the books were as good as life itself. From the regular royal audits to the payment of taxes, she had kept every nerve taut whenever she worked, determined not to miss a single detail.
“There was a double ledger.”
“A double ledger?”
“Prepared with considerable care.”
Yosef Colin.
Using his position as head of the firm, the man had built a private set of books no one else knew about.
Behind Riena’s back.
“Because it was a personal ledger, it seems it went undetected until now.”
“…….”
“Frankly, the situation isn’t good. Some of the funds that flowed into that private ledger were money the firm itself had earned.”
“!”
“Judging by your face, you’ve already guessed what I’m about to say.”
“That I could be in danger.”
Herman gave a quiet nod and rang the small bell on the table.
Not long after, Tristan entered with careful steps.
He set down two ledgers prepared in advance, added only that they had come from the merchant house, and withdrew again.
Herman pointed to each of the books on the table in turn.
“One is the set you kept. The other is Yosef Colin’s. Compare them and the difference will be plain. We’ve already confirmed which is genuine.”
“…….”
Riena stared at the ledgers before her in confusion.
Herman spoke, trying to ease the weight on her.
“If it’s too much to look at right now, later—”
“N-no.”
Riena shook her head, snapping back to herself.
“I’ll look.”
She knew Herman was not a man to lie—but quite apart from that, she needed to face the truth sitting in front of her.
The moment she opened the books, though—
The handwriting is identical.
As her eyes raced down the pages, anger and betrayal began to seep in.
How dare he.
Stab her in the back?
Irritation flooded her face until her cheeks flushed red.
After studying the ledgers for a long while, Riena bit her lip and asked,
“So I’ll be arrested soon as well?”
She was a victim too—but whether the Crown would see it that way was another matter entirely.
With the whole climate already raw over the counterfeits, an affair like this breaking open meant—
They’ll investigate even more harshly.
They might even decide to make an example of her and punish her on suspicion alone.
“There is one way.”
“W-what is it?!”
Riena’s head snapped up. The Duke, still seated ramrod-straight, moved his lips.
“This requires your decision. It isn’t something I can decide on my own.”
A position from which, even if a warrant were issued, she would not be hauled away at once.
To keep her safe from any danger that might follow, this was the best course.
“What do I have to decide?”
To keep from being dragged off under a false charge, she would try anything……!
“Remarriage.”
“……?”
Without taking his eyes from her startled face, Herman went on.
“As a Duchess, you would be questioned at the palace only in special circumstances. And even with charges pending, they couldn’t handle you roughly.”
And this was no ordinary ducal house—it was Bertis. Who would dare run a coercive investigation against a house even the King did not trifle with?
“I’ve also been given authority over the investigation of this matter.”
“You have, Your Grace?”
“I’ve been looking into the counterfeits from the beginning.”
Thanks to that, securing the right to take charge of the inquiry into Riena herself had gone smoothly.
As things stood, no one would find it easy to pin a false charge on her or use her for political ends.
Which left only one thing.
“Decide.”
Herman asked in a voice touched with tension.
“Whether you’ll be taken here.”
Or—
“Whether you’ll marry me.”
Is it going well?
The method felt a little underhanded, but it was the only way to keep Her Ladyship close for the moment.
And because of the man who had fled after dodging his taxes, people from that place might well set their sights on her.
For her safety later on, taking shelter inside the ducal house was by far the best choice.
That was the plan, at any rate—but the decision was hers.
If Her Ladyship insisted she was fine and refused outright, there would be nothing more they could do.
I’m a little uneasy.
At a time like this, His Grace really ought to deploy a honeyed trap, or some inspired silver tongue, and lock her in for certain……
Bang—!
“—!”
Tristan spun around in a hurry.
Beyond the open door, a woman came bolting out at a run.
Wh-what!
What was that?!