Chapter 9 - First Night?

Then secondly, regret!

She should have worked harder to make the Crown Prince infatuated with her while she had the chance.

Regardless of the Crown Prince's initial intention to use her, if Shirley had managed to change the cunning heart of that handsome scoundrel prince to fall madly in love with her, … she would surely have been happy.

She wouldn't have ended up here, married to this pathetic mute.

Her life would have been much better.

And thirdly, inferiority... Shirley no longer believed in her own charm.

How could she still be confident after all her efforts to enchant men into marrying her had only landed her this crippled Marquess? 

Wasn't this the lowest point of her achievements?

Humiliating! Utterly humiliating! Sooo humiliating!!

Should she ask for a divorce while their marriage was still fresh?

Yes!

What if, after the divorce, she begged the Crown Prince to take her back?

It wouldn't matter if she had to sell herself, as long as...

Ah!

Shirley suddenly remembered.

"…."

She stared blankly.

Her gaze, directed outside the carriage window, was so empty.

Yes.

Shirley had forgotten.

The obstacle to her new plan.

The "Crown Prince's fiancée," whom the prince had publicly declared he loved dearly.

If the barrier between her and the Crown Prince was so solid, then, … no matter how hard Shirley tried, even if she recklessly offered her soul, it would all be in vain. 

The Crown Prince had no interest in her.

THUNK!

Still lost in thought, Shirley didn't realize what she'd done.

She startled her husband, Escar, by resting her head on the sturdy shoulder of the Marquess of Aschenford … whose face turned red once again.

"…."

Should she resign herself to this fate and accept being the mute man's wife forever?

The mockery and gossip would come endlessly.

Because Shirley, a noblewoman once admired for her beauty, intelligence, noble lineage, and wealth … had fallen into a deep abyss.

Even if someone pulled her out of that pit, they would be as low as Shirley's current status.

Would Shirley be strong enough to endure it all?

To face every challenge? And to remain steadfast on this path filled with trials?

BLINK~! BLINK~!

Ah, Shirley didn't know.

She wasn't sure.

What if she just tried first?

And if, at some point, she couldn't take it anymore, she could simply give up and run away?

"…!"

Yes. 

That would be better.

By the way … why did her eyes feel so heavy?

"…."

Escar stole glances at her from the corner of his eye.

As he suspected, since Shirley hadn't moved or spoken much, she had already fallen asleep.

His wife, Shirley Aschenford, resting her head on his shoulder, was sound asleep.

She seemed utterly exhausted.

"…!"

Since he couldn't use a notebook to communicate, Escar exchanged looks with Sir Bashilian, seated across from him beside Villicia.

Quickly understanding his master's message, Sir Bashilian knocked on the window separating the carriage compartment from the coachman.

"Please slow down the carriage," he silently instructed the coachman.

Thanks to this, they arrived at the Aschenford estate much later than expected.

***

BLINK~! BLINK~!

"…!"

Shirley blinked a few times, her eyes dazzled as usual.

Did this mean someone had opened the curtains in her room?

"… Mmh."

Shirley groaned softly and lay back down.

The drowsiness from yesterday's exhausting wedding preparations tempted her to close her eyes again.

"…."

Though her eyelids were shut, her eyes moved restlessly underneath.

Something was off; she was recalling what had happened.

Until, …!

SRUKK!

"Kyakhhh!"

The girl suddenly leaped out of bed, standing rigidly, startling a maid entering her room so much that she fell.

Right!

The wedding!

She got married yesterday! How could she be so careless as to forget something so important?!

"What happened? Where am I? What's wrong with me? Who am I?"

Shirley looked around frantically, pacing back and forth while ruffling her hair in frustration, bombarding herself with questions.

Still wearing her lavish wedding dress, the girl was in a daze, as if suffering from momentary amnesia.

"Hey, you! The ginger-haired maid!"

"A-Are you calling me, Marchioness?"

Wait, … Marchioness?

"…."

Right.

Shirley remembered now.

She was officially the wife of the mute Marquess.

She was now a Marchioness.

Marchioness Aschenford.

"Who are you?"

"I-I'm Ginger. The Head Maid assigned me to be your personal maid starting today."

"I see, …?"

Now, as her senses gradually returned, Shirley calmed down a bit.

She sat on the bed, ordered Ginger to help her change clothes, and tried to recall what she had forgotten.

"What happened yesterday? Why did I suddenly wake up and it's already morning?"

"Well, um … it's almost evening."

"What?!"

Evening?!

As far as she remembered, she lost consciousness around the same time yesterday—early afternoon!

So … had she slept for that long?!

"Don't tell me someone drugged me with a sleeping potion?!" Shirley muttered suspiciously, while Ginger responded with a smile.

"Oh, no. You were just sleeping soundly after the Marquess brought you back in the carriage."

"Huh?"

"It's true! The Marquess himself carried you to bed and lovingly tucked you in."

He did that?

"… Ah! What about the reception?"

"The Marquess handled that too!"

"Then … about the wedding night?"

"Of course, the Marquess also—ehh?!"

Almost caught off guard by the question that flowed naturally, Ginger slapped her own cheek to snap out of it.

"No. He didn't do anything," Ginger said seriously, ensuring Shirley didn't get the wrong idea.

"You were sleeping so soundly; there's no way the Marquess would be so cruel as to do that without your consent."

"…."

Shirley was speechless.

She had no further questions.

"Ah, dinner will be served soon! After bathing and getting ready, would you like to dine with the Marquess?"

Dine together?

Dine together as husband and wife?

Should Shirley … really do that?

---

CREAK~!

The door opened.

The sound once again tickled Escar's ears, drawing his emerald-green eyes to glance toward it.

The direction of the footsteps, getting closer and closer, entering the dining room.

"Good evening."

Ah, there she was.

The girl now legally his wife, Shirley Aschenford, entered gracefully, as stunning as a goddess, causing the young Marquess to lower his head, blushing.

Her outfit was simple—appropriate for evening relaxation and bedtime—a modest evening gown. 

Yet, the aura of beauty she radiated … was overwhelming.

GREK!

"…!"

Escar rose abruptly from his seat, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor echoing through the room as he quickly walked toward the chair Shirley was about to sit in.

As a gentleman, he pulled out the chair for her and gestured for her to take a seat.

A simple gesture, perhaps, but not all men in these times would perform such courtesy willingly.

SRUKK!

Once Shirley was seated, Escar returned to his place. 

Their seats were across from each other.

Fortunately, the table wasn't long—it could accommodate three people on each side and one at each end—so Escar could still see his wife clearly. 

Likewise, Shirley could easily read his written responses when needed.

"Since we're husband and wife now, may we speak informally?"

["Of course."]

Their conversation flowed occasionally between bites of food.

At first, Shirley's questions were simple.

She asked about what happened after she fell asleep in the carriage, the state of the reception, the reactions of the guests, and so on.

But then, came a more unusual question.

"Should we … sleep in the same room every night?"

SPLASH!

Escar instinctively spat out the drink he had just taken to wash down his meal.

"Cough! Cough!"

He began coughing, thumping his chest to ease the discomfort.

Thankfully, he had turned his head when he spat out the liquid.

If he had directed it at Shirley, it would have been a disaster!

"Ehem! Ahem!"

After recovering, Escar looked directly at his wife. 

He wrote his answer to her question with a bashful smile, then held it up for her to see.

["Would you be okay with that?"]

"Isn't it normal for husbands and wives to do so?"

["W-Well … yes."]

In truth, Shirley was deeply, deeply uncomfortable with the idea!

But what choice did she have?

To prevent damaging rumors that could jeopardize her precarious position, Shirley needed to be proactive.

Even in the smallest of matters.

---

"…."

"…."

Awkwardly, Escar and Shirley stood across from each other in silence.

Both seemed rooted to the ground, their expressions stiff.

"…!"

Escar was wearing a loose white blouse.

Perhaps because the fabric was thin, or because his body hadn't fully dried after his bath, his chest—particularly his nipples—was faintly visible through the material.

This left Shirley wide-eyed in disbelief, cautiously and thoroughly observing this new side of Escar while she had the chance.

"…!"

On the other hand, Shirley herself was wearing a rather revealing nightgown.

The fabric was thin, the skirt only reached her knees, and it lacked sleeves.

Not to mention, the neckline was quite low, so if she leaned forward even slightly, her cleavage would become completely visible.

Her long hair, still damp from her bath, clung to her and dripped water onto her skin.

Somehow, this gave an impression that deeply captivated Escar.

There was … something standing upright with Escar, though it wasn't another person.

"I'll take the right side of the bed, okay?"

"…!" Escar nodded.

He simply went along with it.

Ahem! Speaking of which, ….

Could their first night happen tonight? Since they hadn't had the chance yesterday?