Home/I Am Trying to End This Wrong Marriage/ch 3

Chapter 3

He had known that his wife feared him, but he had never imagined she would go this far.

‘You brought this upon yourself, Angela.’

Edward had truly loved her. It was her fault—she couldn't endure his 'special' demands and had ultimately tried to leave him.

If Angela had truly loved him, would there have been any reason for her to be afraid of him in the first place?

Faced with an unacceptable reality, Edward held her lifeless body in his arms and rapidly assessed the situation ahead.

The knights, wary of Edward's mood, remained silent. An oppressive stillness hung in the air. At last, Edward turned to look at them.

His sharpened gaze held no trace of sorrow. With startling rationality, he gave his orders in an icy tone.

"We are returning to the capital. Prepare at once."

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"The Duchess of Devonshire is dead?"

Dylan paused upon hearing the report from his adjutant, Kevin, inside the carriage heading back to the mansion.

"Yes. They say she slipped from a cliff during a walk. They had gone to the countryside for a private retreat together, just the two of them..."

Dylan's grip tightened around his folded hand.

Angela is dead.

"Dylan? It's Dylan, isn't it?"

It felt like only a short while ago that he had met and exchanged greetings with her at a party. And now Angela...

"You must feel heavy-hearted as well, my lord."

Kevin, who was well aware of the connection between Dylan and Angela, looked at him with pity.

Few knew of the relationship between Dylan, the Duke of Alester, and Angela, the Duchess of Devonshire.

They had first met seven years ago, in the summer when Dylan was fifteen.

That year, Dylan had gone to his mother's family estate for a holiday, accompanied by his mother. Bored with the uneventful life there, he had left even Kevin behind and wandered out of the mansion alone—and that was when he saw Angela.

She was looking down, picking something up by the seashore, all alone. Her long, unbound hair obscured her face, so he couldn't see her clearly, but her attire did not seem commoner.

There were no attendants in sight, either. Curious, Dylan approached her and asked.

"What are you doing there?"

"Hm?"

Startled from her concentration, she looked up at him. Without any wariness toward the stranger, she opened her hand to show him what she held.

"I'm picking up pebbles. Aren't they pretty?"

Round pebbles glistened in her palm.

But Dylan could not answer her question of whether they were pretty.

Because her face, seen up close, was far more beautiful than any stone.

"I want to show them to my grandmother. I think she'd like them."

"Is your grandmother here?"

"Yes. She's from this place. She still lives here now."

Is she from a vassal family? Dylan thought idly. This land belonged to the Earl of Caven—perhaps she was the daughter of one of his retainers.

"Which house are you from?"

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't know. We're not aristocrats."

She answered with a soft smile.

Yet she spoke so casually to him, a nobleman, that Dylan's curiosity only grew.

"Then, what's your name?"

"Angela Panning."

Only then did Dylan understand.

It was well known among those in the know that the former lord of the Panning Viscountcy had fallen in love with a maid who worked in his mansion.

For a nobleman to marry a commoner was unthinkable, but the former viscount had defied all custom and opposition to push the marriage through. That was why the current viscount was looked down upon as a half-breed noble.

Even after the current viscount married a baron's daughter, the eyes upon him did not change much. Since his commoner mother was still alive, it seemed it would take at least another generation for things to shift.

The viscount's mother, who had never truly adapted to noble society, was said to have returned to her hometown as soon as her son received his title. Was this the place?

"And who are you?"

Angela, who had added that she had come to visit her grandmother for two months from the capital, asked in return. Dylan paused for a moment before answering.

"Dylan. Dylan Alester."

"Alester? As in the ducal house?"

The girl's already large eyes grew even wider. As Dylan had suspected, she must have assumed he was a child from one of the earl's vassal families.

When Dylan said this was his mother's family estate, Angela murmured.

"Since you're from a ducal house, should I speak more formally...?"

"Don't bother. It's too late for that anyway."

Since he had spoken informally to her from the start, it hardly mattered. At that, Angela beamed as if relieved.

"Alright, Dylan."

That bright, harmless smile made Dylan's heart flutter. It was the first time in his short life he had ever felt such a feeling.

As they talked, they discovered they were the same age.

She seemed delighted to have found a playmate, and Dylan didn't dislike the feeling. When she suggested they meet often, he gave no answer, but neither did he refuse.

A few days later, he met Angela again, and she took him to a cave she had discovered.

Having come here every year to visit her grandmother, she seemed to know every corner of the estate like the back of her hand.

From then on, Dylan spent time with Angela. They roamed across mountains and along the shore, exploring every place, and the rural life that had once seemed so dull had become quite enjoyable.

What he noticed after meeting her several times was that Angela, beyond her pure looks, had an equally pure and innocent character.

"Aren't you scared, walking around alone without any escort?"

"Scared? It's not like I'm going anywhere dangerous."

Watching her, who seemed to believe there were no bad people in the world, he felt she saw everything far too brightly.

And that was precisely why she drew his attention. Among the young nobles his age, he had never met anyone like her.

She knew nothing of evil—perhaps it was better for her never to know.

Dylan found himself thinking such thoughts when he looked at Angela.

At times, when he felt the desire to protect that innocence, he would startle and shake the thought away. After all, to him, Angela was just a chance acquaintance from the same age group.

That was all she ever was.

Before there was any time for that to change, Dylan received word from the ducal mansion that his father had collapsed.

No one had expected it, as his father was still relatively young. And so, without even properly saying goodbye to Angela, Dylan returned to the capital.

Upon his urgent return, Dylan began his training as heir.

Seeing his father confined to his bed, he felt the pressure of time, and could focus on nothing beyond the affairs of the house.

His father passed away a year later.

His mother, who had shared a close bond with her husband, fell ill from grief and did not linger long before she, too, left the world.

In the Empire, where normally one would inherit the title in their mid-to-late twenties at the earliest, Dylan became the head of the family at just sixteen. His relatives began to meddle immediately.

Some coveted the family wealth, while others claimed he was too young and inexperienced to handle the dukedom, eyeing even his position.

None of them had dared to dream of such schemes while his father was alive.

Not only his father's brothers but also his mother's brothers acted the same, so the mere mention of the Earl of Caven now made Dylan bristle.

The short but happy time he had spent with Angela in the earl's territory gradually faded.

With the resolve to endure until he came of age, Dylan threw himself entirely into family affairs.

He met Angela again three years later—at her wedding.

"Lady Panning is getting married?"

"Yes. To the Second Prince himself!"

In the time he had been occupied with dealing with his enemies, she had already found her match.

He attended the imperial wedding, but seeing her smiling beside Edward made Dylan feel deeply uneasy.

It had only been a brief childhood connection—so what was this unpleasant feeling?

In the end, without even exchanging greetings with Angela, he left early.

From then on, he ignored Kevin's counsel to become engaged to a daughter of a powerful family and instead focused on re-establishing his house's position among the central nobles.

Another three years passed, and when he had reached a position beyond dispute even outside the family, he met Angela once more.

"Dylan?"

It was at a gathering of high-ranking nobles. There, Angela recognized him first and spoke to him.

She stood adorned with jewel-encrusted dresses, shoes, and accessories—every piece lavish and costly.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, but her attire, even more extravagant than the Empress's, brought to mind the constant controversies that surrounded her.

As a neutral noble who belonged to no faction, he had only heard that the Noble Faction disapproved of her. But seeing her in person, she clearly seemed different from the Angela he remembered.

While Dylan felt a sense of distance, Angela greeted him in a friendly voice.

"I heard you inherited the title, but it's only now I see your face. How long has it been?"

A bright smile spread across her face as she spoke softly. Though their social positions had both changed since childhood, she still seemed like the same girl from back then.

"You don't have a trace of youth about you anymore. Why didn't you come see me at the wedding? I heard you were there, but we didn't even get to greet each other..."

No one else dared speak to him so freely.

Standing before her, Dylan felt, for a moment, as though he had returned to that time.

"Angela."

As she chattered on, Edward approached with an intrigued look in his eyes.

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