Previously
Dolores Rochester corners Madame Rouare, forcing the imperial mistress to kneel in exchange for her returned parure. Arriving at Catarina Cathedral's waiting room, Dolores is confronted by her cousin Angelica, whose cruel gibes about a weeping mother icon trigger traumatic memories of Dolores's first life and execution.
Resurreccion clicked his tongue as he recalled the faces of the Rochester family.
The Marquis’s jaw had set hard with fury, and James’s eyes had burned with rage.
“Looked like they were ready to snap the bride’s hand before handing her off to the groom.”
“…”
“And I’d rather pass on that.”
Resurreccion smoothly offered his arm.
“Come. We walk in together.”
“Whew…”
Dolores pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead.
What bride in the empire entered side by side with the groom right from the procession?
‘This isn’t proper protocol.’
Yet when something had been a mess from the very start, it was far too late to drag it back into the bounds of normality.
‘What does it matter anyway? It isn’t a real marriage.’
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the unprecedented sight.
Yet looking at her family’s venomous faces and the rigid expression of her former husband, Dolores felt her heart pound.
No matter how this life unfolded, she had a certain premonition that this was the right choice.
Following the unconventional wedding, a celebratory banquet was held at the imperial palace.
The Emperor wore a gratified smile among the gathered imperial family.
“What a relief it is to see everyone together in such harmony.”
No one chimed in to agree.
Madame Rouare kept her lips tightly sealed, clearly still resentful, while Adrian did nothing but down champagne.
The Emperor, however, smiled warmly at Dolores.
“Speak freely if there is anything you desire, Grand Duchess. You will need much to settle into a new home.”
“You are too generous, Your Majesty. Yet you have already bestowed more upon me than I deserve.”
Indeed, the Emperor had already showered her with all manner of wealth as wedding gifts.
And…
‘Medicinal herbs meant to aid conception, as well.’
Cacao, nutmeg, and potions imported from the south.
Though they were exceptionally precious remedies, offering them was excessive consideration given that she was never going to bear an imperial grandchild.
Besides, none of them could be saved anyway; the moment they reached the estate, Resurreccion had unceremoniously hurled them straight out the window.
The Emperor smiled, his gaze sly as ever.
“You are modest. Should you desire anything later, do not hesitate to speak.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
As Dolores offered a gentle nod, her eyes met Adrian’s.
Was he looking at her… with pity?
‘…Why?’
Dolores nearly dropped her glass.
She could understand if his gaze were full of resentment or hatred.
Pity, of all things?
‘This is a little unexpected.’
Resurreccion noticed that look as well.
Leaning in close to Dolores, he snorted softly under his breath.
“See that look?”
“Yes… What could be the matter with him?”
“You think he assumes you still have feelings for him?”
“…”
“I’m joking.”
She could not even bring herself to reply, ‘That’s not funny.’
A sudden, chilling realization hit her that it was entirely plausible.
Lingering attachment to what one had lost could easily cloud reason.
‘He’s making me want to get back to the estate even faster.’
Just then, Adrian broke into a twisted smile and spoke.
“Imperial Father. Is this not our first imperial wedding in quite some time?”
“Indeed it is.”
“Though strictly against protocol… what if the new Grand Duke and Duchess spend the night here, just for today?”
“Oho…”
The Emperor raised his brows at the Crown Prince’s suggestion. Ominously, his eyes shone with immense delight.
The newly wedded pair traded startled glances.
A blow had struck from a completely unexpected angle.
A Grand Duke and Duchess were under no obligation to spend their wedding night in the imperial palace.
For an Emperor or Crown Prince, the wedding night held immense symbolic weight regarding heirs.
A Grand Duke, however, stood outside the imperial succession and was relatively free of such constraints.
Yet the Emperor’s stubbornness, once ignited by Adrian, was impossible to derail.
“Haha, Adrian. An excellent idea.”
“You flatter me, Imperial Father.”
“Yes… Having endorsed this match in return for the promise of an imperial grandchild, they should naturally pass the night in the finest chamber.”
Only the Emperor looked pleased; the rest of the room wore stony faces.
Adrian’s heart ached at having to voice such a proposal.
Dolores had undoubtedly pulled this stunt just to provoke him.
‘Even Angelica, a woman herself, thought as much.’
And Resurreccion—well, he had likely fallen under the spell of Dolores’s beauty.
That had to be why he joined in this absurd sham of a wedding.
‘No matter how much he pretends women mean nothing to him, all men are the same.’
Adrian stared at Dolores with longing eyes.
Pleading with her to confess the truth, even now.
To tell everyone it was all a lie, that she had no desire to share a bed with someone like that!
‘Come, Dolly!’
Yet Dolores never once reached out to Adrian for help.
Nor did she rush into the hallway, eyes welling with tears, to beg him.
“…Your Majesty’s consideration is far too generous. Yet would it be right for someone like me to claim an honor reserved for the true Crown Princess?”
“Haha. Of course, Grand Duchess.”
Dolores couched her refusal as politely as possible, but the Emperor only laughed heartily.
The newlyweds looked at each other, then gave a reluctant nod.
A cold sweat gradually began to bead on Adrian’s brow.
‘What? Why isn’t she refusing?’
Could they have already slept together?
Was Dolly no longer pure?
‘Or else! Does she really intend to spend the wedding night with him today?’
Adrian ground his teeth in a fresh surge of hatred for Resurreccion.
‘That filthy mongrel dares…!’
Even so, he rationalized it to himself to the bitter end.
‘No. Dolly will surely come to her senses and flee. She never meant for things to go this far.’
Or was she too ashamed to admit even that, resorting to a pathetic performance of a wedding night?
The thought struck Adrian as entirely plausible.
‘She might just put on a halfhearted show and pretend to sleep.’
Stationing guards outside their chamber would expose them in no time.
Once Adrian petitioned for an annulment, Dolly would finally yield and fall into his embrace.
“Heh.”
Relieved, Adrian savored the rest of his champagne.
Yet Dolores’s gaze as she regarded her former husband was frigid.
‘What is he smiling about so unpleasantly?’
Though she had once loved Adrian with all her heart, she was well aware of his faults.
An avoidant man who refused to admit his mistakes and excelled at self-justification.
‘The empire ran solely thanks to the bureaucrats. Especially Alfred Durant—’
She raised her wine, chewing on old memories, only to flinch.
For an instant, her reflection in the wineglass looked hideous to her.
She saw the girl who had been so desperate for Adrian’s love, anxious over the slightest ounce of fat she gained.
“…”
Her appetite vanished completely.
‘I’d only vomit if I drank anyway. I can’t make such a disgrace of myself.’
Besides, a far larger problem was already making her head ache.
‘Hah.’
A wedding night between a barren woman and an impotent man.
What point was there in such a charade?
The chamber Dolores and Resurreccion were escorted to was the VIP suite situated between the Crown Prince’s Palace and the Emperor’s Palace.
It was the most opulent room allocated to imperial relatives residing outside the palace.
Attendants rubbed Dolores down with all manner of fragrant oils.
She was even given a negligee of sheer silk, meant ‘to entice the Grand Duke’s heart.’
Yet Dolores offered an elegant smile and covered herself with the most modest robe available.
Resurreccion entered the bedchamber looking thoroughly annoyed.
He, too, appeared to have fought to keep a pair of trousers beneath his plainest robe.
The head maid overseeing the VIP suite bowed and withdrew with the staff.
“May you have a pleasant evening, Your Highness the Grand Duke. Your Highness the Grand Duchess.”
The two saw them off with calm smiles.
The second they were left alone, however, both scowled instantly.
“The hallway outside is crawling with watchdogs.”
“Many were servants from the Crown Prince’s Palace. Even that head maid belongs to them.”
“Phew…”
Resurreccion ruffled his bangs with an irritated hand. His damp hair caught the lamplight with a dull sheen.
Each time his arms moved, tightly sculpted pectoral muscles showed through the parting robe.
Though thick and muscular, his physique was so well-proportioned that it did not look bulky in the least.
‘Painters would adore that body.’
That was Dolores’s dry assessment.
Looking at that physique did nothing to make her heart race.
When she held no feelings for the man, such flutterings could never exist.
‘And it must be the same for him. At any rate, we need to discuss how to pass the night—’
Without warning, Resurreccion swept Dolores up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
Laying her down, he climbed over her.
The sudden shift in position left Dolores’s mouth bone-dry.
“Wh-what are you—!”
“Dolores.”
Resurreccion leaned in, whispering close to her ear.
Goosebumps broke out over Dolores’s skin, as if she were facing a beast prowling silently through the dark.
“You know what happens if there’s no trace of us sleeping together on our official wedding night, don’t you?”
“…Y-yes, I know.”
Dolores cast her eyes down, careful not to let her breath brush against his neck.
“They’ll seek an annulment.”
Naturally. She had been slated to be Adrian’s bride for over a decade…
‘He won’t drop his suspicions so easily. But why must he torment me like this after all this time?’
Yet Adrian’s mindset was of no importance.
Dolores had no intention of treading a path that resembled her first life in the slightest, so she meant to cling fiercely to this contract marriage by any means necessary.
Her resolve wavered for an instant, however, when Resurreccion’s hand slipped down to her waist.
“Dolores.”
“Yes…”
“Confident you can make the right sounds?”
“Ah.”
His hand drifted lower and lower.
Her heart dropped straight into her stomach.
Dolores, usually so composed, looked on with trembling eyes.
‘Wait. Wait, this man truly is impotent, isn’t he?’
Everyone had said so for over twenty years; he wouldn’t turn around and claim otherwise now, would he?
Surely he wasn’t going to actually do it with her just to prevent an annulment…?
‘What do I do?’
Sheer panic seized her.
Her throat went parched, and cold sweat ran down her neck.
‘Sharing a bed has never once felt good.’
Her only experience had been agonizing dread that her body, flawed by ‘sterility,’ might appear grotesque.
She had no desire to add to those painful memories.
Just as Dolores trembled in terror—
“Grand Duke, Grand Duke, wai— Ngh?!”
Resurreccion pinched the back of Dolores’s thigh.