Dixie couldn’t help but exclaim at his reckless remark.
Lucius felt a bit relieved that he didn’t have to lie too much to his sister. Besides, what Deatrice felt for him doesn’t really matter to him anymore.
Dixie, who didn’t know any better and thought her brother was being foolish again, cried out, “Do you think mother and I would accept this marriage?”
“Mother won’t accept me being married in general.”
Dixie, who tried to fight by using the reason of family opposition, was silenced by Lucius’ words.
After the Count brought in six-year-old Lucius, saying that he was the child of his deceased brother, the countess raised him alongside Dixie without any discrimination of treatment between the two of them. Growing up, she had always treated him with special affection.
But the difference between knowing that he was her nephew from him being her husband’s illegitimate child caused a drastic change of attitude when she had found out.
Overwhelmed to the bone by her husband’s betrayal in her bones, the countess, who has always treated him with kindness, has long since removed Lucius from her life. Her interactions with him afterwards were filled with contempt, malice and obvious disregard.
Hence, she would probably do her best to impede his happiness, with marriage being one of them.
“But brother…” she reached out. “It’s clearer to me that mother wouldn’t be happy with this marriage. Deep inside, I know that mother wants to know how you’re doing, but if you marry Deatrice, your chances of reconciling with her will become even lower.”
He sighed.
“I know your mother has already softened her stance against me by a large margin. But, I am also aware it doesn’t mean that she has forgiven me. No matter how much I apologize, she won’t accept it anyways, and it’ll be like that forever.”
“Have you actually asked for forgiveness?” Dixie added softly, however, her red eyes suddenly turned cold as her tone became harsher, “Everything that’s happened, was all because father didn’t say things properly right from the very beginning.”
A bitter smile crept on Lucius’ lips.
In his mind, he wanted to preserve how Dixie thought this was just a normal misunderstanding between family members.
But in reality, it truly wasn’t.
But even if the truth was to come to light, it still wouldn’t change the fact that Lucius was an illegitimate child.
Had the family been made aware of his origins right from the start, at the very least, the repercussions of this revelation in the duke’s house would’ve been minimized. However, the countess’ affection for him when she thought he was simply a nephew wouldn’t have developed either.
“Anyway, if you really think it’s not my fault, you should also have the open mind to understand that Deatrice was not at fault either.”
Dixie felt betrayed that Lucius could even suggest such a thing.
“You’re simply blinded by love and cannot think straight.”
“No. Deatrice is also a victim in all of this.” Lucius countered. “She did not know of my legitimacy issues. Thus, refusing your request that day is only reasonable from her point of view.”
If only it was just that, Dixie could still tolerate it. However, Deatrice had completely abandoned her brother when he was at his lowest and even contributed to ruining her father’s name.
When he had locked himself in the mansion, Dixie had witnessed how broken Lucius had become—how he drowned himself in shame and misery. But above all else, he was most anxious of the fact that Deatrice was ignoring him.
Which is why, Deatrice coming back to Lucius’ life to possibly ruin him for the second time was something utterly unacceptable to her.
She recalled a certain scene that showed how distraught he had been.
Lucius was walking around the library when he suddenly fell onto a single-seater sofa. He had covered his face with his trembling palms and whispered.
“She has abandoned me…”
It wasn’t very loud, but Dixie could hear the crack in his voice when it faltered, and it broke her heart to see him feeling that way.
But now, the grieving young man in that memory of hers has fallen in love again.
It’s just that…
Why did it have to be with the exact same woman who hurt him?
Dixie instinctively felt that the gap in demeanor between her brother whom she had known for the past ten years, versus the man who was in front of her today, has widened significantly.
It made her feel dejected.
“In the end, it’s you who has gotten hurt. I can’t stop you if you decide to forgive her, but I don’t think that woman will ever love you wholeheartedly.”
Her voice grew cold, “There must’ve been some benefits involved if she chose to return to your side. If you’re alright with her taking advantage of you, then… I can’t do anything about it.”
He remained silent.
“Just know this—you’re making a big mistake, Lucius Fenry.” Putting on one of the gloves she had taken off earlier with a detached look on her face, Dixie left the office without another word.
The door slammed shut with a loud noise as the wind breezed through the curtains.
Then came silence.
“…”
This was the first time Lucius had seen Dixie’s cold side, who had always been a sweet little sister to him.
He glanced at the closed door, and then looked out to the window once more with his chin resting on the back of his fingers.
Soon, Deatrice will take a walk in that garden.
Although it was already pretty, it was still a far cry from the Louisen’s greenhouse. Shortly after, Tom came back and queried.
“What did the lady say? Her expression seemed very odd.”
Lucius still glanced outside with a vacant expression on his face, the servant’s words going in from one ear and out of the other.
“Make that garden look nice.” he suddenly said.
“I think it… already looks nice enough?”
“No, I want a garden that will take people’s breath away once they see it.”
“Ah…?”
It was a strange order.
But what’s stranger was the fact that, right now, his master looked at the garden in awe when he didn’t even spare a glance towards it before.
So, what changed?
Tom mulled over it for some time before he gave up. His job was simply to follow the master’s instructions. After that, he busied himself in looking for a famous yet suitable gardener that would cater to his master’s needs.
The notion that what brought this change had something to do with Deatrice, whom he hated, had never even crossed his mind.