Chapter 237

***

“You did something pointless.”

Nigel said, standing in front of Cecilia’s carriage.

Cecilia, hiding her flushed cheek, replied,

“I know.”

Then, with a sharp tone, she retorted,

“You did something pointless too.”

“Yeah, I know that too.”

Nigel admitted easily, though internally he was a storm of emotions.

‘Something pointless, huh…’

She was right. It had been utterly useless. To play along with this woman’s test? He wasn’t some fool who’d be swept up by fleeting sentiment.

He didn’t want to admit it. Keeping up an air of composure, he said,

“But if you think about it, it wasn’t entirely meaningless. Our ‘promise’ will only be strengthened by this.”

Cecilia had promised to deal with Guinevere. Nigel had upheld his end of their agreement, so now it was her turn.

If he pretended to be sincere toward her, House Lasphilla would surely try to salvage this situation by forging a marital alliance with House Rosencrantz. That would keep both Guinevere and Cecilia entangled in the mess.

‘So no, I wasn’t just some clown spinning plates on your stage. I made this choice to achieve my own goals.’

He drilled the thought into his mind, convincing himself it was a calculated, rational move made purely for his benefit.

Cecilia, ever perceptive, understood his meaning. She nodded.

“You’re right. I’ll never forget our agreement.”

“Good. You mustn’t forget. We’re not the kind of people who can break ties so easily, are we?”

Cecilia affirmed his words. Nigel noticed her maid watching them with rapt interest from her seat beside Cecilia.

His lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“Ceci,” he called, using her nickname.

Cecilia blinked at the unexpected term, and in that moment of distraction, he grabbed the carriage door and leaned in close.

Their eyes met, and he whispered,

“See you again, my love.”

Cecilia’s face crumpled like the pleats of her skirt. Nigel observed her expression with amusement, mouthing silently: Control your expression.

“……”

A moment later, her lips curved into a serene smile. Her pale blue eyes folded gracefully into an artistically composed expression.

Nigel’s typically calm demeanor froze instantly.

She smiled as she spoke.

“I’ll miss you terribly, my love.”

The carriage began to move.

The clatter of hooves and the rumble of wheels echoed as the noise gradually faded into the distance. His head spun, leaving nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat behind.

Nigel pressed his hand to his forehead. It was hot. His cheek had been slapped, but it was his forehead that felt like it was burning.

A fever? Out of nowhere? He’d always been healthy, rarely even catching a cold—what was happening?

Stupefied, he ran his hand down his face, brushing past his stinging cheek and busted lip without a second thought.

It was hot.

His face, his hand touching it, the blood coursing through his veins—all of it burned as if ignited.

“Damn it…”

He buried his face in his hands, muttering curses under his breath.

The carriage was gone, but her face was still vivid in his mind—smiling like she intended to captivate him.

“Damn it, damn it… What was that? Just an act.”

Cecilia probably hadn’t thought much of it. She’d merely responded in kind to his provocation, nothing more.

Her smile was deliberate, a mask with a clear purpose. There was no affection, no goodwill in it.

“……”

Right, it was nothing.

Nigel lowered his hands and, with a stiff expression, pushed open the estate’s front door and walked in alone.

In the small hall, which felt even more confined than the country house, he could sense the furtive glances of the servants. Everyone in the household knew what had happened by now.

With things blown up this much, avoiding rumors was impossible. His father’s fiery temper was probably why their investments always suffered losses.

The butler approached and asked,

“It’s late… Shall I prepare your bedroom for you?”

“No. I’m not staying the night. I’ll just grab a few clothes while I’m here.”

“Understood. I’ll have it prepared.”

The butler started to leave but turned back, concern evident.

“Did your ears get hurt as well, Young Lord?”

“My ears?”

“Oh, never mind. I’ll include some medicine for your injuries.”

Nigel nodded briefly and turned to glance at himself in the mirror mounted on a nearby wardrobe.

Both ears were flushed as red as his slapped cheek. Nigel let out a short, bitter curse.

He planned to wait in the empty reception room until the servant returned with his belongings. But it turned out he wasn’t alone there.

“Young Marquis.”

Ulysses rose from his chair upon seeing Nigel.

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