Chapter 16 – I Can Raise Her Lacking Dignity
For a while after that, the two were awkward around each other.
Even when they occasionally crossed paths in the hallway, they exchanged only formal greetings, which was brief and detached.
During meals, Ada was the most talkative, while Edric and Mellie merely nodded along or added a word or two. They didn’t even say anything to each other.
What’s gotten into these kids? Ada wondered about the sudden tension between them. However, she didn’t overthink it. She assumed they simply had nothing to talk about and moved on.
In fact, she thought it was better this way—for her son’s dignity, at least.
But Mellie, unaware of Ada’s hidden relief, decided to take the initiative and reconcile.
She wasn’t someone who could stay upset for long, and she believed that her lingering resentment wouldn’t reflect well on the Duke of Felton, who had graciously taken her in.
Determined, Mellie selected two of Edric’s favorite teacups.
She brewed Darjeeling tea leaves with extra care, convinced that the familiar aroma and a warm conversation would help mend their strained relationship.
“Hmm… It smells amazing!”
Oz, who had wandered in, exclaimed as she inhaled the golden-brown tea deeply.
“Miss, are you having tea time again after so long?”
“Yes,” Mellie replied softly.
The words “after so long” stung. It hadn’t been that long ago that they drank tea together every day, chatting freely. But now, the closeness they once took for granted had vanished, replaced by a gap so wide that she had to steel herself just to approach him.
“His Majesty will love this. He always enjoys the tea you brew yourself. And we enjoy it too.”
I hope that’s still true, Mellie thought, her heart heavy with doubt.
It felt like a distant memory when she’d been upset that Edric didn’t see her as a woman. The pain of crossing that line—of wanting more than friendship—had been cruel. Now, she would
give anything to restore what they had before.
Carrying the tea set, Mellie made her way towards the lobby.
But as she reached the living room, she froze.
“…!”
Edric was descending the grand staircase. His sharp black suit suggested he was heading out.
“Your Majesty, the carriage is ready,” the butler announced, bowing as he approached.
“I’ve also sent word to Marquis Adele that you’ll be visiting shortly.”
Edric strode past the butler with an indifferent air. But as he neared Mellie, his confident gait faltered—just for a moment.
“….”
Mellie held her breath, expecting him to stop or say something.
But Edric didn’t even glance her way.
“Cancel all my plans for this afternoon,” he ordered the butler
abruptly before striding away with renewed determination, as if compensating for that fleeting hesitation.
Mellie stood rooted at a place, feeling as if she’d become invisible.
She was no longer in his thoughts. She was nothing to him now.
This is my fault, she told herself.
Lowering her head, she looked at the tea tray in her hands. The steam still rose from the cups, but they seemed utterly meaningless now.
“Did you even notice I made two cups?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
A cold certainty settled over her: things between them would never return to how they were once back then.
—
“Let’s Call It Off.”
“Ah…”
Rosalind’s lips curved into a strained smile, as fragile as a leaf
trembling in a storm.
“Did I mishear?” she asked.
“No,” Edric replied politely, “you heard correctly.”
His tone was calm—too calm.
“Let’s call off the engagement, shall we?”
“….”
Finally, the storm won.
Rosalind’s smile vanished completely, her composure slipping just for a moment before she reached for her teacup.
She drank slowly, suppressing the faint twitch in the corner of her mouth. When she set the cup down, she had regained her poise. It was the polished grace of a noblewoman, taught never to lose face.
“I see. That’s… unexpected.”
Her voice was steady, her chin raised with a hint of defiance.
“And the reason? Is there another woman?”
“Yes.”
Edric’s answer came without hesitation, stunning Rosalind.
Her eyes narrowed as she let out a derisive laugh.
“So, you admit your guilt? What will you do if I demand compensation?”
Edric’s lips curved into an easy smile.
“I’d willingly offer voluntary compensation. But if you insist on asking for it… well, I wonder if that’s wise.”
Rosalind’s confidence wavered at his composed retort.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Let’s just not mention it,” Edric replied evenly, “Since Adele’s young lady likely knows what I mean.”
Rosalind’s face paled.
This wasn’t the Edric she thought she knew. The man who appeared to be a model noble had secretly been gathering evidence of her indiscretions.
“Don’t misunderstand,” Edric continued in a dispassionate tone.
“This was merely a precaution. In a union between noble houses, entangled with mutual interests, such measures are only prudent.”
Rosalind’s carefully maintained calm was crumbling.
“And who is she? That woman?” she asked, a note of indignation creeping into her voice.
Edric sighed. “She’s… a bit low-class.”
Rosalind blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness.
Most noblemen would at least pretend their mistresses were worthy.
“…Then take her as a mistress,” she suggested, almost desperately.
“You don’t need to ruin our engagement for her. I’ll overlook it, just as you’ve overlooked my affairs.”
“That’s not my way.”
Edric’s refusal was as firm as stone.
“I don’t play the game of balancing a wife and a mistress. If I choose someone, I ensure she stands beside me—even if she lacks the pedigree.”
“And what about the family’s honor?”
“Honor is tarnished more by mistresses and the strife they bring than by a wife from humble beginnings. Illegitimate children have caused more scandals than any legitimate union ever could.”
Rosalind studied him intently, realizing she had never truly understood him.
The man before her wasn’t merely decent or handsome—he was resolute, and was even ruthless.
She felt a pang of regret. He was too valuable to lose.
“But think about it again,” she implored.
“For your sake, for the Duchy’s sake. A duchess needs be dignified.”
“Then I can raise her lacking dignity,” Edric said evenly. “But you
can’t create love where there is none.”
Rosalind fell silent.
—
“Then we’re agreed,” Edric said.
“There’s just one matter left to decide. Who will take responsibility for ending the engagement—Young lady or myself?”
Rosalind leaned forward with a sly smile, her beauty on full display.
“Let me say that you were the one who got kicked.”
Edric didn’t even blink.
“That’s not what I meant.”
His steady refusal left her flustered.
“As I’m the one breaking things off, I’ll bear the burden of public scrutiny. People may gossip about Young-lady for a while, but without new scandals, the talk will die down.”
“….”
“Think it over. I’ll respect whatever decision you make.”
Rosalind felt the walls closing in, but Edric was unyielding—a fortress she could no longer breach.
“Fine,” she said at last.
“I’ll tell you my decision.”
