For Better or For Worse

Chapter 7

The stroll took place in the garden of the estate. It wasn’t a large or lavishly decorated garden, but there was a simple, quaint pleasure to walk through it. As Dillon and Cedric walked, they kept about two paces apart from each other.

“It’s a beautiful garden,” Cedric said, relying on a cliché to start the conversation.

“Yes,” Dillon replied without looking at him. To him, it seemed as if she was too immersed in her own thoughts to properly pay attention to what he was saying.

“It must be nice to live in the countryside like this.”

“Yes,” she replied again.

“Are you listening to me, Lady Dillon?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hate me, perchance?”

“Yes.”

Aha. To think she would answer so easily. Cedric looked down at the top of her head, unimpressed. This was a brand-new form of rudeness. How long had it been since someone had told him they hated him right to his face?

“Oh,” Dillon blurted out, looking up as if she had finally realized what they were talking about. She looked embarrassed. “I misspoke. I was thinking of something else.”

Of course. Cedric simply nodded, his expression unchanged. “I understand.”

“No, really. It was a genuine mistake. I didn’t mean it,” Dillon said, shaking her head and even waving both of her hands in front of her to show how serious she was. “I don’t hate you even the slightest bit, my lord. How could I? I sincerely wish you all the glory and happiness in the world. Please know that that’s the truth.”

With that, Dillon nodded solemnly, a sense of duty creeping into her eyes. Cedric hadn’t expected such a vehement denial.

“I simply wish for the person with whom you share that happiness to be someone other than Emily,” Dillon continued. Either she caught on quick, or she had overheard his conversation with the viscount. One way or another, it seemed she had known the purpose of Cedric’s visit from the start.

The proposal. That was why she had been so hostile. It was both understandable and incomprehensible at the same time. He could see being taken aback when a man one didn’t like asked for their little sister’s hand in marriage, but why wouldn’t she like him as a marriage prospect? Cedric Hayworth had such an arrogant and shameless thought without any idea how arrogant and shameless it was.

“Why?”

“Because Emily is very young,” Dillon replied.

“Seventeen years old isn’t too young to receive a marriage proposal,” Cedric countered. If anything, receiving one at twenty-three was rather late. Being unmarried at twenty-three wasn’t unheard of, but it was very rare. And someone who wasn’t even engaged at twenty-three? That was beyond rare, not to mention pitiful.

“She’s soft-hearted and naive,” Dillon said.

“It’s not like the duchy is some sort of jungle,” Cedric responded. “It isn’t crawling with predators trying to eat her up in one bite.”

Hearing his reply, Dillon looked at him wordlessly. You. Realize. That’s. You. Right? That was what her face seemed to be screaming. Cedric’s eyes narrowed dramatically. Dillon flinched, gulping audibly.

“I only mean that she wouldn’t meet the standards of someone as... experienced as you,” she offered.

“Experienced, you say.”

“I may be a sheltered country bumpkin, but I know how to read,” Dillon replied, and Cedric finally understood where her hostility came from. He let out a forced laugh.

“Do you really believe all the scandals written up in the papers?” he asked.

“Are you telling me everything those reporters write is a lie?” she countered.

“No, but...” Cedric trailed off. Not everything was a lie; there was some truth mixed in as well. But the important thing was that over ninety-nine percent of it was indeed fabricated. With the advancement of printing and publishing technology, the number of newspapers had grown exponentially, and all of them shared an interest in Cedric Hayworth’s love life.

If he met a woman—no, if his hand happened to graze a woman—no, if a woman simply stood in his vicinity, there was bound to be a newspaper that reported on her so-called secret relationship with him.

The Marquess of Northerland’s Secret Love Affair With a Young Maiden?!

The papers always added “?!” to their headlines so they could argue that it was mere speculation rather than libel. And if he sent in a written letter of protest, they would simply pen a response accusing the Duke of Southerwick of attempted censorship.

“I don’t understand why they’re constantly writing so many articles about me,” Cedric had complained resignedly to his close friend and partner, Ethan.

“It’s because of your looks,” Ethan had replied.

Cedric wondered what he could possibly look like to make him deserve this sort of treatment.

“That means there’s still some truth in the articles,” Dillon rebutted, pulling Cedric out of his reverie.

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean that everything in the articles is true.”

“It’s true that you currently have a lover, though, right?”

“I do not,” Cedric replied.

“How could you lie so easily, right to my face?” Dillon marveled.

“It’s not a lie.”

Dillon raised her eyebrows in a way that would typically indicate annoyance. But what right did she have to be annoyed?

“Katarina Rowsom,” Dillon stated baldly. “Does that name ring a bell?”

Of course, Dillon just had to choose the one truth in a sea of lies. Cedric pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration.

“I’ve amicably ended my relationship with her.”

“That’s ridiculous. A paper mentioned you in connection with her just two days ago,” Dillon argued.

“That was when I was in the midst of breaking up with her,” Cedric said dismissively. “She and I are over.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dillon said firmly, crossing her arms. The stress and distrust permeating her gaze were what eventually broke through Cedric’s calm demeanor.

“Just what kind of opinion do you have of me, exactly?” he asked, and the sense of injustice in his voice seemed to startle Dillon. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you, yet you dismiss everything I say to you directly as lies just because of bits and pieces of information you heard from gossip columnists. Have you ever considered how I might feel being so unjustly denounced by a lady because of articles filled with falsehoods?”

His voice came out deeper and more threatening than he had intended—he must have been more irritated than he thought. Damn it. He wasn’t trying to scare an innocent young woman. If she started crying, that would be most troublesome.

But just when Cedric was trying to think of something to say to fix this, Dillon suddenly opened her mouth and said, “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

The unexpected apology gave Cedric pause. Dillon didn’t look hurt, let alone on the verge of tears, and the look she gave Cedric was the most genuine she had shown all day.

“I apologize,” she said. “You’ve always been nothing but a fictional character in a book to me, so—”

“A book?” Cedric asked, causing Dillon to pause.

“I meant the newspaper. I misspoke. In any case, I’ve only ever seen you in the papers, so it didn’t feel like you were a real person. Maybe that’s why what I read has left such an exaggerated impression on me.” Dillon shook her head before politely lifting the skirts of her dress in a curtsy. “I know what I did was inexcusable, and I really do sincerely apologize. I acted out of prejudice toward someone I’d never met in person. I was in the wrong.”

From where Cedric stood, Dillon’s lowered head and curtsy appeared very graceful. It was certainly different from the reckless behavior she had shown up until now. He had believed that she was someone who didn’t know how to apologize, but at least she was willing to acknowledge when she was wrong. She wasn’t so bad. Cedric gave the top of her head a small smile.

“I accept your apology, my lady,” he replied. “Please, raise your head.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Dillon responded. “And once more, I apologize. This won’t happen again.”

Dillon gave an awkward smile that, while not exactly cheerful, was definitely the most natural smile Cedric had seen on her so far. It made him wonder what her face looked like when she was smiling brightly.

“However,” she continued, “that does not mean I will accept your marriage to Emily. Please understand.”

Here we go again. It seemed they were back to square one. The small smile on Cedric’s face quickly disappeared. Why was she still so against it if she understood the gossip wasn’t true? Just why? Besides, Cedric had never even brought up proposing to Emily, not once, so Dillon’s whole premise was already on shaky ground.

He had only said he would ask for Viscount Langton’s daughter’s hand in marriage, not Emily specifically. That meant he could potentially ask for Dillon’s hand in marriage instead—and upon thinking that, Cedric’s curiosity shot up.

Seriously, why? Cedric looked down at Dillon resolutely, and she returned his gaze without blinking. There wasn’t a hint of romantic interest in her eyes. A lady in her position would ordinarily be wondering if she was the one Cedric would propose to, imagining their future life together, and not even considering her younger sister as a candidate.

“Please, do not propose to Emily,” she continued to plead. There was not an ounce of expectation in her voice that she might be the one to whom he would propose. “Neither Emily nor my father would be able to refuse, so please reconsider on your end, my lord.

Emily, Emily, Emily. It had been Emily this and Emily that since the beginning. Dillon had stuck to the same reasons the whole time, without ever once mentioning herself. Emily is too young, Emily is too innocent, Emily is too weak. That was why she could not allow it.

And that was what sparked Cedric’s curiosity: What kind of face would she make if he proposed to her?