A Way to Confirm Your Husband’s True Feelings - Chapter 4
Beatrice remained secluded in her bedroom all morning, tormented by her thoughts. It wasn’t until noon had passed that she finally made up her mind.
“Prepare the carriage. I’m going to the ducal manor.”
After summoning a maid and giving her instructions, she began getting ready herself. Of course, the ducal estate she was referring to was none other than her family home, the mansion of the Estern Duchy.
She had spent hours agonizing over countless thoughts and speculations, yet she had reached no clear conclusion. Sitting alone on the sofa in her bedroom, she had suffered in anguish. It had only been a few hours, but it felt as if she had plummeted into hell in an instant.
Beatrice had never once faced true hardship in her life. She had never experienced betrayal from a loved one, nor had she even engaged in minor quarrels. Learning about Caesar’s true feelings today had been the most shocking event of her entire existence.
At first, it was as if she had been struck in the head—her mind went completely blank. Then, like a fog lifting, came denial.
Surely, her husband wouldn’t say such things.
He had never been one for flowery words or exaggerated expressions, but from the moment he courted her to the present day, he had consistently shown his affection for her.
‘But… what if it was all an act?’
Once trust was broken, doubt seeped in quickly. Negative thoughts spiraled one after another, leading her down a path of endless suspicion.
Beatrice thought back over their marriage, short as it had been.
She had fallen for Caesar at first sight. While she had never expected him to immediately return her feelings, she had also never hidden her affection for him.
Not long after he realized her feelings, Caesar had hesitated briefly before formally submitting a marriage proposal to her family. And Beatrice had given her answer before the ink on his letter had even dried.
Even after their wedding, her love for him had been overwhelming, impossible to contain.
In the early days of their marriage, when they were still learning about each other, she had been aware that her eager affections sometimes flustered Caesar. Yet she had not been able to hold herself back, constantly closing the distance between them without hesitation.
Every morning, as if it were a ritual, she would wake up and immediately burrow into Caesar’s arms, pressing a kiss to his lips. At first, he had been visibly uncomfortable, but over time, he had come to accept it as routine. And so, she had assumed it was fine.
Unless he had obligations that required him to leave her behind, she had always stayed by his side. She would often visit his office while he worked, pretending to read a book just to be in the same space as him. If he went to inspect the territory, she would mount a horse and ride alongside him.
Unless there were exceptional circumstances, they always dined together. Unlike most noble couples, they shared the same bedroom and even the same bed. Between those moments, her affections naturally overflowed.
“I’m truly happy to be with you. Meeting you was the greatest fortune of my life.”
“I want to spend all day with you. Just being near you makes me happy.”
“I love you, Caesar.”
Rather than simply expressing her feelings, she had practically bombarded him with them.
Each time she confessed her love so openly, Caesar would hesitate, at a loss for how to respond.
Had she been a little more mature—or had she even the slightest experience in romance—perhaps she would have taken things more slowly, given them more time.
But Beatrice had been raised as a sheltered noblewoman, adored and untouchable, only to be married off at twenty without ever having experienced love before.
She had simply said she loved him because she did. She had said she was happy because she was. It had never even occurred to her to consider how Caesar might receive her affections.
At first, she had hesitated to approach him, worrying she might overwhelm him. But the moment he expressed his intent to marry her, all her restraint had disappeared. She had thrown herself at him like an unbridled foal, never once considering what he might truly feel.
Now that she thought about it… had Caesar ever actually told her that he loved her?
Realizing she had never once heard those words from him, a cold chill ran down her spine.
His affectionate glances, his tender expressions—yes, those had been there.
But never the words.
‘Was it not just that he was bad at expressing emotions…?’
Beatrice was struck by a realization so stark that it left her in a daze.
As she slowly pieced things together, she began to understand why Caesar had called marriage and having a wife ‘annoying’.
How tiresome must it have been for him, having a clueless young wife constantly following him around?
And how much effort had it taken for him to hide his irritation all this time?
Now that she had finally realized the truth, it was glaringly obvious.
But with that realization came an even greater storm of emotions.
Everything she had said in front of him, every action she had taken, every smile she had shown—it all now felt unbearably embarrassing.
If he had been so annoyed by her, why hadn’t he just told her?
She had spent all this time grinning like a fool in front of a man who had found her presence exasperating.
As her thoughts reached that point, they naturally led to a new emotion—anger.
‘If that’s how he felt, then he should have just rejected me outright!’
