There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 68

The morning of the third day, after what felt like an eternity, dawned bright and clear.

Edwin, reading the morning paper while enjoying the cool autumn breeze drifting through the open window, checked the time just as his coffee began to cool.

When the time came to summon someone, he left instructions with a servant and exited his room.

Edwin’s destination was the grand greenhouse, the pride of the Royal Family. The large structure, home to tropical trees, rare flowers, exotic plants, and even unusual animals, was a must-visit spot for distinguished guests to the palace.

Yesterday afternoon, Vivianne had come to his room but left without saying what she intended to. Instead, she had gone to the greenhouse. She must have wandered among the strange trees and birdsong, trying to calm her troubled mind.

Now, as Edwin sat thinking about Vivianne’s state of mind, he waited for Sarah Chadwick, who was expected to arrive soon. Not long after, Sarah appeared, accompanied by a servant, and Edwin escorted her to a seat.

“I didn’t expect you to invite me personally,” Sarah said, smiling elegantly and calmly—quite a contrast to the resolve she’d shown the day before.

Her hand, as she lifted her teacup, was distinctly aristocratic. Her movements were as elegant as Vivianne’s, with little difference between them.

“I assumed you’d convey your intentions through the baroness or a servant,” Sarah added, her tone sharp and mocking in an aristocratic way.

When he showed no reaction to her thinly veiled accusation of cowardice, Sarah pursed her lips in frustration.

Unlike most men, who would flush with anger or shame when their pride was wounded, Edwin remained unreadable.

“Didn’t you ask me to make my stance clear yesterday, Miss Chadwick? I believe I conveyed my intentions well enough through other means—but just in case.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, irritated that she hadn’t gotten the reaction she wanted. His calm, offhand smile grated on her nerves.

A man’s appearance might not be the most important quality in a husband, but if a man who was perfect in every other way also happened to be good-looking, that changed things. Regardless, the fact remained: she had lost the most sought-after bachelor in Neway.

“No matter which direction the engagement takes, you wouldn’t voice your opinion directly. You were always so… busy,” Sarah replied, not wanting to make him an outright enemy. She backtracked slightly, softening the sharpness of her earlier tone.

Edwin sipped his now-lukewarm tea. Unlike Vivianne, Sarah showed a degree of flexibility.

Vivianne would expose all her guilt without making any effort to hide it—making her someone he was tempted to exploit ruthlessly. Sarah didn’t have that quality, which made her dull and uninteresting.

It was almost laughable, considering Vivianne had once tried to connect him with someone like her. Even without Vivianne’s involvement, Edwin doubted he would have given Sarah Chadwick a second glance.

“I remember when I first asked you for a favor,” Sarah said. “You agreed so readily, I thought you were open to the idea of marriage. I never imagined it was just to spark Miss Aveline’s jealousy.”

Now that her hidden agenda had been exposed, Sarah hoped he’d at least feel a little embarrassed. She wanted Edwin to realize whom he had used—and what kind of attitude he ought to be showing as a result. But when Edwin suddenly laughed, that hope shattered. She understood then—he had no intention of hiding his shamelessness.

She began to question whether he was truly the Duke of Baytness she’d heard about in rumors or even the same man she’d come to know over the past month.

“Thanks to you, Vivianne got plenty jealous. I’ll make sure to pay the price for that,” Edwin said.

“And how exactly do you intend to pay it?” Sarah asked.

It was difficult to remain composed in front of Edwin, who carried on the conversation with such ease. Sarah, who had vowed to make him pay dearly, now stared with eyes blazing—like a debt collector.

“I’ll pay the price by forgiving you, Miss Chadwick.”

Edwin ended the exchange with a confidence so brazen it was almost laughable. Anyone could see that it was Sarah Chadwick who had been played—caught in the palm of the Duke of Baytness’s hand. It should have been he asking her for forgiveness. And yet, shamelessly, here he was, audaciously wielding the word forgiveness as if she were the one at fault.

“I’ve done nothing that requires your forgiveness, Your Grace. If anything, I was deceived without knowing anything. Shouldn’t I be the one deciding whether to forgive you? This whole situation is rather uncomfortable for me. Have you ever thought about how ridiculous my position is—used and discarded in the middle of your romantic drama?”

Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. This was her strategy—to remain the victim in the end and suffer no real loss. The best weapon at a lady’s disposal was always her tears, and Sarah didn’t hesitate to use them. The colder Edwin’s smile became, the brighter her teary eyes shone.

“Everything was your own choice,” Edwin said.

“No. I was thoroughly used by you and Miss Aveline. Do you really think Farrington doesn’t know? You should be the one begging for forgiveness—for what you did to me, to my family, and to my aunt…”

“I don’t think someone who advised Vivianne not to give birth to a bastard child is in any position to speak of forgiveness.”

A large teardrop that had collected on Sarah’s lashes finally fell with a soft plop onto the table.

“And Miss Chadwick,” Edwin added.

Sarah pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes with delicate taps. She sniffled loudly as if hoping someone would witness the scene unfolding at the table.

“If you hadn’t resorted to leaking a confidential marriage proposal, who exactly was being used here?”

Sarah flinched as she was about to tuck the handkerchief away. She recovered quickly, trying to move naturally so as not to show it.

“Think about it, Miss Chadwick—leaking rumors, insulting Vivianne, and pretending to be the victim with teary eyes…”

A fox-like man. A man who had always been several steps ahead of her. That was Sarah’s final judgment of him. A crack had finally formed in her resolve not to turn him into an enemy.

“I don’t know what you heard, but I’ve never insulted Miss Aveline, nor did I leak any talk of engagement,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Very well. Then let’s call it a misunderstanding and leave it at that. This is the price you’ve paid for stirring up Vivianne’s jealousy.”

This time, Sarah was so furious, she was on the verge of tears.

Edwin, still smiling coolly, checked his pocket watch and then rose from his seat. Sarah’s eyes followed him with desperate intensity as he fastened his jacket.

“Then I wish you well, Miss Chadwick. Let’s conclude this engagement with your refusal. This is the last courtesy I can offer.”

With the most polite of farewells, spoken in the most cutting tone, Edwin left the table—and the greenhouse—without hesitation.

Left alone, Sarah reflected on whether there had ever been a moment in her life more humiliating than this.

────── ✾ ──────

“Your Grace, please… don’t go.”

Last night, after confirming that the heavily drunk Vivianne had finally fallen asleep, Edwin was about to quietly leave the room. But suddenly, Vivianne opened her eyes, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back down. Only then did he realize her troublesome drunken rambling wasn’t over yet.

“There’s actually something I haven’t told you.”

But her drunkenness wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her slurred speech was laced with flirtation and just the right amount of coyness—not so much as to be overbearing. If that was all, he could tolerate it.

“Until the day I die… could you not get married?”

Vivianne was sobbing again, roughly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. With a pitiful sob, she poured out all the sadness she had been holding in.

“When Chadwick told me not to give birth to an illegitimate child… it was unbearable.”

“You can meet a good lady anytime, Your Grace. So please, just delay your marriage until I’m gone.”

“Please… protect my pride.”

“Don’t get married, Your Grace.”

Only after confirming multiple times that he would promise her this, did Vivianne finally fall asleep. Even as she slept, tears continued to seep from her eyes, leaving her eyelids glistening.

After leaving the grand greenhouse, Edwin’s steps turned toward Wellwood’s chambers. He was going to see Wellwood off, as he was departing today.

“Your Grace, what shall we do about tonight?”

Roarke, who had joined him at some point, asked in a hushed voice.

Edwin frowned as he recalled the final act of the event he had nearly forgotten—a spectacle orchestrated by the Queen’s poor taste, in which, unfortunately, the star of the finale was none other than Vivianne, and everyone was eagerly anticipating her humiliation.

“What can we do? We’ll just have to get through it.”

With the Queen’s distasteful whim as the closing act, the long journey would finally come to an end.

The morning was perfectly clear and refreshing.

      Had Vivianne woken up yet?

Edwin hoped she would sleep a little longer. He hoped she would greet the day with a mind as clear as the morning itself.

────── ✾ ──────

Vivianne buried herself under the covers as if she wanted to disappear forever.

Sophie found Vivianne’s uncharacteristic stubbornness puzzling. She worried that Vivianne might be suffering from a hangover, but judging by her condition, that didn’t seem to be the case.

The previous evening, Vivianne had been dragged back to her room by the Duke, utterly drunk, long before the party had ended. Though Sophie didn’t fully trust the Duke as he laid Vivianne down on the bed and ordered her to leave, she had no choice but to comply. She pressed her ear to the door and secretly listened in on the two. But all she could hear was Vivianne’s faint sniffling—and soon after, the Duke left the room.

Before he left, he warned Sophie to keep an eye on Vivianne throughout the night in case she vomited while sleeping. So Sophie had stayed up, her sleepy eyes wide open, watching over her. Whenever Vivianne turned onto her back, Sophie would gently roll her onto her side. Even the faintest sound of swallowing made her jump awake and check Vivianne’s condition.

After such a dawn, Sophie greeted the morning in exhaustion.

“My lady. Are you really not going to get up? It’s nearly lunchtime. The courtiers are coming, you know.”

“Tell them I’m sick. No—just say I’m dead.”

“Miss Vivianne, what’s gotten into you today? Really?”

Vivianne, eyes tightly shut, burrowed deeper into the blanket. She remembered last night—being led by Edwin down the dark hall. She had cried when she found out he had a fiancée. She hugged him. She had touched him. She had mourned. And though nothing about those facts had changed, it was the way she had so blatantly exposed her feelings—the fact that she had touched and embraced him—that drenched her clear morning in shame.

      What happened afterward? After that, we…

There was nothing. She remembered nothing. When she regained consciousness, she found herself safely lying in her bed. That was all. And because that was all, Vivianne’s dread only deepened.

The door opened, and the voices of the courtiers drifted in. Amid the commotion, Vivianne pulled the blanket even tighter over herself.

“Oh my, Miss Aveline. What on earth are you doing at this hour?”

The one who finally pulled Vivianne out of under the covers was Alice Thurston. Vivianne, eyes wide with surprise, met Alice’s gaze as the blanket was swept aside.