Chapter 29
Pretending to Be Lovers
“Eat, Lady.”
Kyrie stared down at the domed dish placed before her.
The silver lid, delivered to the bedroom on a tray, gleamed brightly. The food inside gave off an enticing aroma, but honestly, she didn’t even want to lift a finger.
“Are you planning to skip breakfast?”
“…I wouldn’t exactly call this morning anymore.”
The sun had long since risen to its peak. Her voice trailed off raggedly.
Kyrie gave up on trying to sit upright and simply let her weight sink into the bed behind her.
Watching her from across the room as he buttoned up his formal uniform, the Grand Duke spoke again.
“You really are, ”
“High maintenance. You’ve said it more than once.”
“Doesn’t feel like you’re taking this warning seriously.”
“If you’d stop running me ragged, perhaps I’d reconsider.”
He had tormented her relentlessly that day in the bridal lounge, until she’d all but passed out. Then, ignoring the remaining guests entirely, he had taken her straight back to the capital townhouse.
“We’re going home.”
“W-where…?”
“There’s no honeymoon anyway. What other home would there be besides the Grand Duchy?”
It was a bold, self-indulgent move. Half the reason it was tolerated was because he was the Empire’s First Grand Duke.
The other half was that the more he behaved like an ungovernable brute, the more the Emperor seemed to approve.
And yet, the irony was that no matter how he acted, his dignity remained untouched.
There was simply something about him. Whatever he did, it somehow felt like something a traditional nobleman might get away with.
Still.
What had happened that night far exceeded that excuse.
Even after returning to the ducal estate, the Grand Duke had taken her again, and again. Ten days had passed, and Kyrie’s body was still limp with exhaustion.
He wasn’t exaggerating about wanting a child.
Eventually, Kyrie had started clawing his back or slapping his shoulder.
Whenever he managed to draw some humiliating sound from her lips, she struggled harder, refusing to yield.
And the more she fought back, the rougher he became.
By now, their bodies were so marked up it was hard to tell whether they’d made love or gone to war.
Last night had been no different.
After a night like that, her entire body ached. She didn’t feel even a flicker of appetite, just a desperate urge to curl up and sleep.
The Grand Duke let out a quiet chuckle.
“You’ll need to eat if you want to survive what comes next.”
“I’m sure I will, Your Grace.”
Even as she replied, Kyrie stayed stubbornly in bed. At last, the Grand Duke approached, lifted the lid of the domed dish, and reached out to slowly stroke her lower belly.
His face was calm, but the tips of his fingers radiated a subtle heat.
Kyrie’s body tensed instinctively.
“I kept my promise.”
“……”
“Now you’ll keep yours, for the child we’re going to have.”
“And what does that have to do with me eating…”
“I told you, didn’t I? You’ll need to put on more weight if you’re going to conceive.”
As he spoke, the Grand Duke carefully set out her utensils. Everything was aligned to exacting precision, as if calculated to the millimeter.
“I even hired a personal chef for you, on short notice.”
“……”
“Eat properly. And report back.”
With those words, he fastened the last button of his uniform and stepped out. From the hallway came the butler’s voice, delivering a report.
“There’s a reply from the Western Territories.”
“Send it to my study. I’m heading out.”
“Is it from the palace?”
“His Highness the Crown Prince has summoned me.”
‘Again today?’
It was only after coming here that Kyrie had understood why the Grand Duchy felt so desolate.
It wasn’t a home for living, it was a place for working.
The Grand Duke she’d observed was constantly being summoned to the palace, and when he wasn’t there, he was swamped with reports from the territories. He had no time to rest.
Naturally, that meant the staff was kept to a bare minimum. There was no warmth, no sense of life in this house.
But for Kyrie, for now, that lack of warmth was an opportunity.
As the Grand Duke’s voice faded into the distance, Kyrie lay there a moment longer before slowly rising to dress in her indoor gown and robe.
The newly hired maids should arrive soon.
Since her arrival, the household had scrambled to hire ladies-in-waiting. They were expected to arrive shortly and begin attending her.
‘I need to take care of it before they do.’
Having made up her mind, Kyrie quietly walked toward the greenhouse.
Like the rest of the house, the greenhouse bore signs of long neglect.
A few pots covered in dust, scattered gardening tools, overgrown weeds. But the rest of the space was oddly tidy.
As if its owner had a temperament that defied discipline, yet insisted on precision where it counted.
‘…Just like Mother’s greenhouse.’
The Grand Duchy’s greenhouse gave Kyrie a strangely familiar sense of peace. She stepped further in and crouched before one of the plants.
It looked like a wildflower, small, unassuming. The kind of weed that might have taken root by accident.
‘I can’t believe it’s here too.’
But Kyrie recognized it instantly. She could never forget this flower.
“A poisonous flower has been found in the greenhouse, Your Grace!”
“It’s a herb that causes illness in those who consume it!”
“Come to think of it, Lady Kyrie’s been spending a lot of time there lately…”
“Destroy the greenhouse.”
The presence of the Nelion flower had been the final nail in the coffin for her mother’s greenhouse.
Kyrie remembered every plant that had been in there, even the weeds. That greenhouse, damp with mold and heavy with decay, had been her one refuge. Her only place of comfort.
All she’d done was spend time there. But it had been so easily taken away.
He talks of love and yet couldn’t be bothered to preserve even a trace of her.
Kyrie sneered inwardly at her father as she stared down at the tiny bloom.
When she’d been accused of poisoning her stepmother, Kyrie had tried to research this plant.
All she’d had to go on were a few gardening books left behind by her mother in the ducal library.
It wasn’t even that toxic, not enough to kill.
But it did have other properties. Properties that Kyrie now needed desperately.
It interferes with conception.
She remembered hearing the servants gossip: that her stepmother had failed to conceive the Duke’s child because of some poison Kyrie had used.
Utter nonsense.
Even Kyrie, isolated and shut away in the house, knew the truth.
The Duke had never once shared a bed with her stepmother. In fact, he had gone to great lengths to avoid doing so.
Some pathetic display of loyalty to Mother, I suppose.
No one in the household had ever viewed the stepmother as anything but a replacement for the late Duchess.
That was why Veron and Johansson had reacted the way they did, refusing to accept her, stirring trouble behind the scenes.
“What a family,” Kyrie muttered, brow furrowed in disgust.
If the Duke had even once allowed his new wife into his bedroom, the suspicions might have gained traction. Kyrie might have truly been accused of trying to kill an unborn sibling.
Of murdering a child who never even got the chance to be born.
“And it’s no different now.”
Even now, she was carrying the weight of a false accusation, of having pushed Elise down the stairs.
Kyrie checked her surroundings, then carefully plucked the tiny flower buds and tucked them into a pouch. A handful, she chewed and swallowed.
The bitter taste flooded her mouth, and only then did she feel hunger stir. Or rather, a desire to chase the bitterness away with something else.
She now felt capable of eating the food the Grand Duke had left behind.
With careful hands, she stroked the pouch of blossoms.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
“So this is what you called me for?”
Dominique calmly raised his teacup. Steam rose from the ruby-colored liquid, carrying a rich scent.
“Just to have tea?”
“Are we not close enough to share at least that, cousin?”
Across the table, Lexion’s expression was stiff, his discomfort plain.
He’s never been good at hiding his feelings.
It was one of the few things Dominique actually appreciated about him.
He studied Lexion’s face with a neutral gaze, but inwardly, he was quite pleased.
How satisfying.
Lexion was visibly irritated.
The incident in the bridal lounge had been half impulse, but seeing this reaction, Dominique found he had no regrets.
Clearly, the Crown Prince had been more affected than he cared to admit.
‘Shall I provoke him a little more?’
Lexion had a habit of growing reckless when emotionally shaken. Hoping to coax out something useful, Dominique went on with idle amusement.
“Still, I suppose it might be unlucky for a newlywed husband to go hunting so soon.”
“…Unlucky?”
“Well, we’re hoping to conceive quickly.”
“……”
“So it wouldn’t do to spill blood while my wife is on the verge of pregnancy, would it?”
Dominique smiled, as if it were all perfectly sincere.
