Chapter 14
“Edgar?”
When I called again, he turned his head away.
“I didn’t know you were changing clothes.”
“I was fitting the dress I’ll wear for the dinner party. Come in.”
“No, I…”
Rather than stepping in, Edgar actually took a step back.
“What’s wrong?”
As soon as Edgar appeared, both Sarah and Penelope bowed their heads and moved to the wall.
I could clearly see the redness creeping up Edgar’s ears.
“You must have come to say something important. Come in and talk.”
“It’s not like that. I’ll wait outside. Get dressed properly, and I’ll see you in the drawing room.”
I didn’t understand why he was acting like this. After Edgar left, Penelope straightened up and beamed.
“My lady, I think I have your permission to do whatever I want with the dress now.”
Sarah pouted but didn’t protest further.
“The Count’s here, so let’s wrap up the fitting,” she said grumpily.
Penelope, however, hummed a cheerful tune as she tidied up the dress.
Did they make some sort of silent agreement during that brief moment Edgar was here?
I changed back into my original gray dress and went to the drawing room.
“Edgar.”
“Cecilia.”
There was something like regret in his eyes when he saw me. But there was nothing for him to regret, and he wasn’t the type to want comfort, so it must have been my imagination.
“It feels strange seeing you in the daylight.”
“Don’t scold me.”
I wasn’t. I was just stating the truth.
“You’re going to wear that dress from earlier at the dinner party?”
“After a few alterations.”
“What kind of alterations?”
I thought he’d just say what he came to say and leave, but surprisingly, the conversation continued.
“They’re removing the sleeves and replacing them with sheer fabric. The neckline will be lowered to here.”
He frowned and fell silent for a moment, then said something completely unexpected.
“Then you’ll need a necklace.”
“Uh… probably.”
“My mother’s necklace. I’ll have the head maid bring it to you.”
He was offering me the former Countess’s necklace.
“We could buy a new one, of course. But since this is your first dinner party, it might be better to emphasize your role as Countess Linton.”
Such constructive advice.
“Edgar, are you feeling, okay?”
“What?”
He stood up abruptly at my question.
I stared at him curiously until he sat back down again.
“It’s nothing. Anyway, wear the necklace I give you.”
“Alright.”
“What about the other accessories?”
“I might have something, but they probably won’t match the dress.”
“Then…”
“I’ll just ask Penelope.”
Edgar’s brows drew together so tightly they nearly touched.
“I won’t buy anything too expensive.”
Thinking he was concerned about money, I explained myself preemptively.
“What? Where did you even get that idea?”
“You looked displeased.”
It was only natural. An unloved wife spending lavishly would be off-putting. That was the logical conclusion I came to.
“Don’t even think like that. If word gets out that the Countess of Linton frets over pocket change, I won’t let it slide.”
A matter of pride, perhaps.
“Okay. I’ll be careful.”
I responded calmly, but Edgar’s expression didn’t soften.
Since we didn’t share many topics of conversation, it didn’t last long.
“Did you talk to Miss Elodie?”
So I got to the point quickly.
“Elodie?”
“Yes. Isn’t that why you came?”
The only thing Edgar and I could really talk about was the dinner party—and that too, limited to Elodie’s schedule.
“Right.”
“When is she available?”
Edgar answered flatly.
“The second week of next month.”
“That’s perfect. Please thank her for me.”
“I won’t.”
He stretched his legs across the table and sat there casually.
“I’m having lunch. At home.”
This was a problem. I had told the chef not to prepare anything because I wasn’t planning to eat lunch today.
“It might take some time.”
“Why? Isn’t it lunchtime for you too?”
“Well, yes, but I said I wasn’t eating today. I didn’t feel like it.”
Edgar’s expression grew darker.
“Just eat with Miss Elodie.”
“Wow. Look at you, saying ‘Miss Elodie’ like it’s nothing now. You couldn’t even stand hearing her name before.”
He looked annoyed but didn’t make any move to leave.
“We agreed to move past that, remember? I keep my promises.”
“That almost sounds like you’re saying I don’t.”
“You never made any promises to me.”
It was a guess, but from the way his face shifted, I must have been right.
“You came from meeting Miss Elodie, didn’t you? You should go. She’s probably waiting.”
At last, Edgar stood up.
I was relieved, glad to be free of the tension in the room—
“My lady. Lord Ricardo is here.”
The timing couldn’t have been worse.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“Good question.”
“You said you weren’t eating lunch. I guess you had plans with him instead?”
Edgar didn’t even look at me as I shook my head.
“I didn’t make any plans.”
But it didn’t seem like he believed me.
The air between us was so sharp and cold, it almost felt like it burned my skin.
“Countess Linton.”
Ricardo, now in the drawing room, greeted me first—even after seeing Edgar there.
“I’ve felt a bit guilty since I stole your bard the other day.”
A gentle-looking man stood behind him. Sensing the tension, he gave an awkward smile.
“I didn’t expect Count Linton to be here as well.”
“Then Lord Ricardo must’ve been hoping to see Cecilia while her husband was out,” Edgar sneered.
“Of course not. I just didn’t think the busy Count Linton would have time to spend with his wife.”
Ricardo didn’t even flinch.
Between the two of them—neither backing down—the bard and I exchanged silent sighs.
Penelope was impressive.
Little by little, the mansion changed. And by the day of the dinner party, it was completely transformed—unrecognizable from before.
Since dawn, I’d been pestered by both the nanny and Sarah while getting ready.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone completely different staring back. Just like the house.
Once I was done preparing, I went downstairs to give the final instructions.
“Edgar?”
He was still home.
He looked up from his newspaper, momentarily dazed when he saw me.
“You’re giving me the look like I shouldn’t be here.”
“I just thought you’d gone to pick up Miss Elodie.”
I smoothed out the heavy skirt of my dress as I sat down across from him.
This gown was designed in a way that made me question whether they had run out of fabric for the upper half and used all of it for the bottom. Layers of lace flared dramatically from the waist down.
According to Penelope, no one who wears a dress like this is expected to walk much, so a little discomfort is fine.
Sure enough, going down the stairs had been hard, but now that I was sitting, I could finally relax. No need to hold in my stomach or sit stiffly.
A perfect dress for eating well at a banquet without anyone noticing.
“El can come on her own,” Edgar said, his voice cold.
“I’ve prepared a waiting room for Miss Elodie.”
“A waiting room?”
“Yes. Lord Ricardo offered some advice—he’s sponsoring a bard who’ll also perform at the dinner party, so he shared a few tips.”
Edgar’s irritation wasn’t just in his tone anymore—it showed on his face too.
I ignored it and continued.
“Of course, I don’t expect her to sing nonstop. I thought during her breaks, she could mingle with the guests.”
Ricardo didn’t treat me like someone ignorant of noble customs. He simply offered helpful guidance.
He told me that when inviting a performer, it’s standard to provide a resting room. I didn’t know that.
Without him, I might’ve been embarrassed.
“Elodie would’ve been more than enough. Why did you accept the bastard’s offer?”
He tried to change the subject. Technically, it was still about Elodie.
“Are you worried she won’t get enough attention? The bard is only singing one song.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I took a moment, then gave my answer.
“Countess Rosette told me Isla wanted to see the bard.”
That was actually a suggestion Ricardo had planted. I didn’t expect I’d end up using it on Edgar.
Everyone knew Ricardo kept the bard to himself.
If the bard performed at my dinner party, people would definitely start talking.
So I wrote to Countess Rosette first.
I asked how Isla was doing and explained that I had a chance to invite a famous bard. But I was worried about gossip and didn’t know what to do.
Countess Rosette, who adored Isla and likely wouldn’t mind seeing Cecilia embarrassed, responded right away.
Her reply, full of pretty words, basically said: “No reputation is more important than my little sister.”
This was the same woman who used to say Ricardo wasn’t one of “us” and should never be included—but now, she flipped her stance like it was nothing.
“She’s not even your real sister.”
Edgar’s words were cold and blunt.
“If Count Rosette were still alive, I wouldn’t say this, but… honestly, I think it’s time you stopped caring so much about that side of the family.”
If the real Cecilia had heard that, her heart would have shattered.
She was desperate for love.
She truly loved her stepmother and her younger half-sister, and she tried her best to earn their affection.
When that failed, she turned to Edgar instead.
And in the end, she died—betrayed, alone, unloved.
“Countess Rosette is my father’s wife. And Isla is still family—we share blood.”
“Half-blood,” he said flatly.
“Half or not, it still counts.”
Edgar clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Fine. I’ve said what I needed to. Just don’t expect me to treat a woman I’m not even related to like my mother-in-law.”
His dislike for Countess Rosette ran deep.
Maybe hatred was too strong. Annoyance was more accurate.