If I was Going to Regret It Anyway

“Understood.”

 

“Assign someone to the viscount as well. If there are any letters in the future, intercept them first and bring them to me, and report immediately if there are signs of meeting.”

 

“Yes.”

 

After Philip left, Daryl loosened his shirt collar and took out a cigar. As he inhaled the smoke, he felt his nerves slowly relax.

 

According to the investigations over the past few years, it was almost certain that Eleanor had not yet been touched by a man. She was a woman who had not even made her social debut in the first place. She had never been to a party, nor had she engaged in any other social activities, so she had no chance of meeting men.

 

Usually, women who were immune to men easily fall for the blatant flirtations of immature guys. Especially if it’s a young, wealthy, and handsome man like Benjamin Gallahad, there wouldn’t have been much need for effort.

 

‘And yet, they’ve only exchanged letters for three years.’

 

Considering Eleanor’s personality, it wasn’t so strange. A woman with such a high self-esteem wouldn’t easily allow her heart.

 

What Daryl couldn’t understand was rather on Benjamin’s side. He couldn’t understand why he had put in effort for three years without laying a finger on Eleanor. To Daryl, women were just partners to satisfy momentary desires and seek comfort, nothing more or less. Benjamin would have had no shortage of women in his lifetime, so why?

 

‘Well, it doesn’t really matter.’

 

Afterwards, whether they get together or not, as long as Eleanor kept her body clean for just one year, that would be enough. At least, while she was using Lloyd’s name, he had no intention of letting her spread her legs to another man as long as she was his wife. It was a matter of pride before considering the possibility of pregnancy.

 

Daryl extinguished the burnt-out cigar and spread out the documents next to him.

 

****

 

A few days later.

 

When he entered the reception room, a familiar upright back was waiting.

 

“Aunt.”

 

Countess Cecilia Crawford turned in her seat to face Daryl. She was the only living person among Frederick’s second cousins and nieces. Her neck-to-toe black dress contrasted sharply with her white hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun without a single stray hair peeking out.

 

Daryl exchanged a kiss on the cheek with his aunt, which didn’t feel the least bit affectionate at all, and sat across from her.

 

“Isn’t it a bit early to take off your mourning clothes?”

 

Cecilia said, casting a sharp glance at the servants around her.

 

“The master has not been dead for long, I’m afraid of what others will think.”

 

“It’s already been a month, Aunt.”

 

“Just a month, right? The dirt covering Frederick’s coffin hasn’t even dried yet.”

 

“We’ve followed the rituals, so there should be no blame.”

 

At Daryl’s cold response, Cecilia snorted in displeasure.

 

“Have you been very busy lately?”

 

It might sound like a routine greeting, but considering Cecilia’s personality, it was quite clear that it was a criticism of Daryl. Daryl had recently sent a letter announcing his marriage to his relatives. From Cecilia’s point of view, she might have been dissatisfied that such an important matter was notified in writing.

 

“There are many things to deal with. I was planning to visit you soon.”

 

“Is the content of the letter true?”

 

“Regrettably, yes.”

 

“I can’t believe it.”

 

“I thought you might feel that way, so I prepared the will.”

 

The lawyer brought the will and showed it to Cecilia. Cecilia took out her magnifying glasses and read the will over and over again with her wrinkled eyes.

 

“…I can’t believe it no matter how many times I see it.”

 

Cecilia sighed and took off her glasses.

 

“Is there really no other way?”

 

“If there was, I wouldn’t have made this decision.”

 

Daryl’s grandmother, that was, Frederick’s mother, passed away when Frederick was only about seven years old. Therefore, Cecilia, the eldest daughter, took on the role of the actual mistress of the duke’s house and even the role of Frederick’s mother.

 

She delayed her own marriage to take care of her younger brother. Whether it was because of her late marriage or not, she couldn’t have children with Count Crawford. Therefore, it was no secret to everyone how special Frederick was to Cecilia.

 

Cecilia treated Frederick like a candle in her hand. She cherished him so much that she never scolded him in his lifetime. Her complaints and regrets were always directed at Frederick’s wife, Edith. Although everyone praised the duchess as perfect, in Cecilia’s eyes, she was always lacking for her brother. The same was true for Sylvia and her daughter. Cecilia blamed Edith for all the problems while she never say a word to Frederick.

 

[It’s because you’re not doing it right. A woman who is called the wife of a duke can’t even keep an eye on her husband!]

 

Therefore, Daryl knew in advance. If this marriage was Frederick’s will, Cecilia would never be able to oppose it.

 

“As written in the will, I plan to maintain my married life for only one year and then proceed with a smooth divorce process. So Aunt, please think that you are pretending not to know for just one year and–”

 

“Where is she now?”

 

Cecilia suddenly asked, interrupting Daryl’s words.

 

“Who are you talking about?”

 

“The girl you’re going to marry.”

 

“She is at her family mansion in Loud.”

 

“I need to see her.”

 

At Cecilia’s words, Daryl narrowed his eyes.

 

“Do you mean now?”

 

“Yes. At least I should check whether she is Frederick’s child or not.”

 

“How are you going to confirm that?”

 

“Frederick is my brother! If she’s his blood, will I not be able recognize it!”

 

The sharp voice echoed off the ceiling of the reception room. Daryl watched Cecilia’s tightly pursed lips twitching minutely, a wrinkle etched between his brows.

 

“…I was planning to arrange a meeting soon anyway. I’ll contact you separately, so you can see then.”

 

Ignoring Daryl’s words, Cecilia rose from her seat. She began to walk, limping with her arthritic legs, leaning on her cane.

 

“Aunt, do you know the address?”

 

There was no answer. Daryl muttered a curse under his breath and got up.

 

****

 

“Miss, are you sure you don’t need to bring your drawing tools?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“What about books? Not even one?”

 

Eleanor shook her head. The maid Peggy frowned with a worried expression.

 

Having lived almost her entire life confined to the mansion, Eleanor had no opportunity to experience the joys and pleasures commonly enjoyed by women her age. Grand parties, chats with friends over tea, and intimate moments with handsome men were all distant stories for her.

 

Drawing and reading were two hobbies Eleanor had sincerely enjoyed since she was young. The usually pale and somewhat shadowy Eleanor only came alive when she was immersed in drawing or reading. Knowing this fact well, Peggy was worried that Eleanor was leaving all her favorite things at the Townsend mansion.

 

“Did His Lordship say it’s not allowed?”

 

“It’s not that. I just think it would be cumbersome if I have too much luggage. It’s just a year’s trip.”

 

“Just a year, Miss? It’s a full year. And you’re staying at that house.”

 

“Peggy.”

 

Eleanor looked at Peggy with a faint smile. Knowing that this was her mistress’s habit when quietly scolding her, Peggy closed her mouth.

 

When Eleanor announced that she was going to marry Daryl Lloyd, the servants unanimously opposed it. But Eleanor’s intention was firm. She declared her decision, saying that it was the will of the late Duke Griffith, and she intended to follow it as a payment for the kindness her mother and she had received.

 

Eleanor only revealed to two people, the butler Herald and Peggy, that this was a contract marriage with a term of one year. Although the contract basically had a confidentiality clause, she received permission from Daryl that they could be exceptions.

 

‘Goodness, it’s unbelievable! It’s causing an irreversible blemish on your life due to circumstances that have nothing to do with you!’

 

‘It’s not a blemish. You know, Peggy. I was planning not to get married all my life anyway. More than that, I hate being in debt. I have to pay back as much as I received to feel at ease.’

 

No matter how much Peggy dissuaded her, Eleanor stuck to her stubbornness until the end.

 

It was true that Sylvia and Eleanor, the mother and daughter, had received grace from the former duke. The Townsend family was not originally wealthy, and their inheritance was not much. If it hadn’t been for the sponsorship of the former duke, Sylvia would have had to wander around looking for a job while pregnant. There was no dowry for a poor orphan, and it was impossible for a woman burdened with a child to find a good marriage. There was also a high possibility of suffering an unspeakable harsh fate.