A Way to Confirm Your Husband’s True Feelings - Chapter 1
Ducal Lady Beatrice Estern—no, now the Margravine Beatrice Valentin after her marriage—prided herself on being a rather fortunate person.
The first proof of this was that she was born into a noble lineage in Tirenia, the mightiest empire under the sun. The second reason was that the blood she inherited was none other than that of the Duchy of Estern.
Estern was one of only three ducal houses in Tirenia, a family possessing not only vast lands and immense wealth accumulated over centuries but also an unshakable legitimacy.
Tracing back through the empire’s long and tangled history, their lineage was even linked to the imperial family, making them a house of deep heritage and great power—one that even the emperor himself could not easily touch.
Born as the youngest daughter of such a prestigious noble house, growing up among loving parents and wise sisters, Beatrice was well aware that her life, free from worries or hardships, was nothing short of a blessing.
She had lived a life untouched by shadows, yet at times, an inexplicable fear gripped her. What if her blessed existence was nothing more than an error of the goddess of fortune? What if one day, that goddess, upon realizing her mistake, decided to take it all away?
However, Beatrice’s luck did not run out. If anything, it flourished. As if dozing in a sweet slumber, the goddess of fortune did not strip her of what she had. Not only that, but she bestowed upon her even greater fortune.
It was a year ago that Beatrice met her husband, Caesar, the Margrave of Valentin.
The moment she first laid eyes on him, she finally understood what the world meant by ‘fated partner’ and grasped the meaning of ‘love at first sight’.
With every aspect of her life perfectly aligned, Beatrice was utterly happy.
At least, until this morning—until she witnessed that scene.
Had the goddess of fortune finally awakened from her long sleep?
A hairline fracture, thin as a spider’s thread, had begun to form in her once-perfect happiness.
***
“Have a safe trip. If the opportunity arises, please send my regards to His Majesty. Though I will be visiting soon myself.”
With a pleasant smile, Beatrice absentmindedly smoothed her husband’s collar, though there was not a wrinkle to be found.
It was still early morning—a time when most noblewomen would be indulging in deep slumber—but as always, she had accompanied her husband to the entrance to see him off.
Even in the estate, Caesar frequently had to leave to fulfill his duties as fief lord. Each time he departed, Beatrice personally walked him to the entrance, just as she was doing now.
For as long as she could remember, she had never once skipped this routine after their marriage. Beatrice sincerely meant it every time she bid him farewell.
She did not care whether Caesar left in the dead of night or at the break of dawn. There had been many occasions when he found her rubbing sleep from her eyes, barely awake, yet he had never been able to dissuade her stubbornness.
There was no particular reason for it. She simply adored Caesar so much that such efforts did not feel like a burden.
More than that, she cherished this intimate moment between them—exchanging farewells, wishing him a safe return, and hearing his promise to do so. It was a bond rarely seen among noble couples, and though the household staff, including her husband, had initially found it unfamiliar, it had since become routine.
“If only His Majesty hadn’t summoned the lords to the capital so urgently, I would have spent the entire day with you. I feel sorry for leaving you alone the moment we’ve arrived.”
Caesar gently grasped Beatrice’s hand, which had been fixing his collar, and—just as naturally—pressed a kiss to her palm.
She should have grown used to such casual displays of affection by now, yet her cheeks still flushed red, just as they had on their wedding day.
‘But how could I possibly remain composed when he looks at me like that?’
Even if she had a heart forged from steel, she would have still found herself flustered beneath the weight of Caesar’s gaze.
Beatrice met his violet eyes—gazing at her, quiet yet unrelenting—with nothing but joy.
At a glance, his expression might appear cold, but she now understood well the passion that lay beneath it.
How could she not, when just hours ago, she had been the one to receive the full force of that heat in their shared bed?
“Don’t worry about me. The capital is where I was born and raised. Since there’s nothing scheduled for today, I’ll be resting here at the manor. I’m only worried about you, having to present yourself before His Majesty as soon as we arrive.”
Her cheeks still tinged with red, Beatrice spoke with a warmth she could not conceal.
Caesar’s silent gaze lingered on her for a long moment before finally breaking away, leaving behind the faintest trace of reluctance.
“Then, I’ll be off. Make sure to rest well and recover from the journey.”
It was a rather shameless statement, considering he was the very one who had seized her the moment they arrived and had not let her go until deep into the night. But Beatrice adored even this contradiction of his.
Their prolonged farewell ended when, on impulse, Beatrice rose onto her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek.
This sweet parting scene repeated itself every time they separated. The only thing that changed was the location—but even here, in the heart of the imperial capital, nothing had changed at all.
