Chapter 162

Chapter 162

With a playful furrow of his brow, he asked, “What was it you wanted to tell me?”Nnêw n0vel chapters are published at novelhall.com

Caught off guard by the embarrassing proposition, Iona was already flustered. His subsequent question only added to her confusion.

Leroy likely posed the unexpected question to gauge her reaction.

Maintaining her previous expression with some effort, Iona swallowed slowly and replied, “...I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Will I know before the end of the year?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Although she gave a positive answer, Leroy did not seem satisfied. He withdrew his hand from her, adopting a posture that clearly showed he was yielding.

Instead of continuing the awkward conversation, he turned and headed for the bathroom. Iona remained standing where she was, collapsing onto the sofa only after he disappeared behind the door.

She lay back, staring at the ceiling and sighed heavily.

She had thought that becoming his wife again would smooth the path ahead, but real married life was proving to be fraught with peril.

If every day continued like today, she feared her heart wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

****

“This is the perfect opportunity now that the Imperial House has just connected with the Duke’s family. Among the Emperor’s faction of nobles, I must be the first to secure my position.”

Viscount Ida muttered to himself, as if steeling his resolve while looking into the mirror. Over his shoulder, the reflection of the Viscountess sitting by the bed, brushing her hair, could be seen.

Despite her husband talking to himself in front of the mirror in the middle of the night, she seemed uninterested, focusing only on untangling her hair.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Viscount Ida glanced at his wife sideways before looking away. She was originally from Bardem and not fluent in the Imperial language.

She probably didn’t understand half of what he said.

Ida grumbled inwardly, ‘It’s been years since we married, and she still hasn’t made an effort to learn my language.’

His wife’s Imperial vocabulary was limited to simple phrases like “Hello,” “Thank you,” and “I see.”

The fortunate part was that these phrases were used so frequently that she could say them quite fluently. Because of this, many people didn’t realize her origins from a brief encounter.

The Viscountess often chose to listen rather than voice her opinions, and her reticence was seen as ladylike modesty rather than a lack of verbal skill.

Consequently, Viscount Ida usually appreciated his wife’s silence, but as with all things in life, there were pros and cons.

Despite sharing a bed, their relationship remained awkward. It was only natural for a couple who couldn’t have a proper conversation without a translator.

‘Of course, it’s not like our marriage was based on love.’

Thinking this, Viscount Ida pretended to search for grey hairs, sweeping his hair back needlessly. Although his wife still paid him no attention, he refrained from talking to himself again to avoid strange looks.

It would be suspicious for the Duchess to roam alone without any attendants.

“You can’t gain anything by staying cooped up inside,” Iona replied, accepting a towel from Marsha.

Though Marsha voiced her complaints, she was nonetheless prepared to assist Iona with her training, having brought extra towels and a water bottle.

Iona smiled as she glanced at the supplies and stepped forward. With no suitable sparring partner available, she planned to jog lightly around the training ground while waiting for a visitor.

Given the region’s commercial development, the estate wasn’t particularly large, but it was still better than the cramped Modrov Count’s manor in the dense capital city.

After a long hiatus, Iona relished the feeling of running freely as she moved her legs.

The awaited individual appeared just as Iona completed her twentieth lap.

Viscount Ida’s young wife stood quietly, waiting without attempting to interrupt Iona’s run. However, a guest couldn’t just pass by the host without a greeting.

Iona stopped and walked slowly towards the Viscountess, addressing her with an easy manner.

“Good morning, madam. Did my running disturb your sleep?”

The Viscountess responded with a smile in her native Bardem tongue. The maid standing behind her promptly translated her words.

“I came to your room to invite you for breakfast, but you weren’t there, so I decided to come outside.”

“You’re from Bardem,” Iona noted, as if realizing something new, and extended her hand for a handshake.

Despite the early hour, the Viscountess was already wearing gloves suitable for going out.

Iona’s gaze lingered on them for a moment. During dinner yesterday, the Viscountess had also concealed her hands with delicate lace gloves.

Recognizing the subtle elegance and restraint in her demeanor, Iona decided to bridge the gap with friendly intent.

“Well, I hope I didn’t inconvenience you too much. I tend to start my mornings early,” Iona said, smiling warmly.

The Viscountess, through her maid, replied, “Not at all. It’s actually refreshing to see someone so dedicated. Perhaps we could join you sometime?”

Iona appreciated the gesture, understanding the strategic importance of forming alliances even in the smallest of social interactions.

“I would be delighted,” Iona replied, maintaining her warm demeanor. “It’s always nice to have company.”

As they conversed, Iona felt a cautious optimism. Aligning with the Viscountess could indeed prove beneficial in navigating the complex political landscape they both inhabited.

--- End Of The Chapter ----

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