For Better or For Worse

Chapter 1

“Go get married.”

So said Graham Norman Hayworth, the eighth Duke of Southerwick. The aging duke was known as one of the three great nobles of the empire and had once played a major role in the Alselvador War. His eldest grandson, Cedric Hayworth, had been quietly listening and was looking at the duke with one eyebrow raised.

“Are you going senile in your old age?” Cedric asked.

“How dare you say that to your own grandfather!”

“What else am I supposed to say? You can’t just spring that on me.” Cedric wearily rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He had just returned from inspecting Auden’s textile mill after receiving a report of a large fire.

There was much to be done—identifying the dead and injured factory workers, calculating compensation, determining the extent of the damage to the machinery and textiles, planning the factory’s reconstruction, and identifying alternative trade routes until normal operations could be resumed. Cedric had hardly slept a wink while taking care of the aftermath. He had signed dozens of reports overnight and more still awaited their turn. Marriage was one of the last things on his mind.

“Go get married,” Graham said again. “I can no longer bear the sight of my successor still unmarried in his late twenties.”

“Unfortunately,” Cedric started bitterly, “Katarina has chosen to remain a widow.”

Katarina Rowsom, a former countess, was Cedric’s current lover. After the death of her first husband and a dramatic divorce from the second, Katarina had vowed that she would never marry again in her life. The thirty-year-old beauty was famous for taking on many lovers and proudly reigned as the queen bee of high society.

Cedric wasn’t Katarina’s only lover, and in fact, he wasn’t even her first choice. As a couple, they were far from sweethearts who whispered romantic words affectionately in each other’s ears. Nevertheless, if Cedric had to get married now, the most likely candidate would be Katarina, though he was certain that if he tried to propose to her, she would burst out laughing and kick away the ring—and him along with it.

“Just another predictable man,” she’d say.

“Who said I was talking about Kate?” Graham asked, Katarina’s nickname slipping naturally off his tongue.

High society was a small world, so it was only natural for Graham and Katarina to be acquainted with one another, but the two got along so well that Cedric feared Katarina would one day become the next Duchess of Southerwick.

“Then to whom, where, when, and what kind of wedding did you have in mind?”

Graham furrowed his brows at Cedric’s rudeness. He licked his lips and was about to speak, but Cedric continued before he could utter a single word.

“Would you please, ever so kindly, give me an explanation, dearest Grandfather?”

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” said Graham, pretending to be upset.

In truth, he found his grandson’s actions endearing. Of his seven grandchildren, Cedric was the most like Graham himself. With his tall height and strong build, it was clear whom Cedric resembled. Naturally, girls chased after him like cats after mice, and Graham—a womanizer himself in his heyday—was quite pleased.

Not only that, but Cedric was smart, to say the least. A person could exhaust themselves trying to list all of his abilities. Talented people were naturally drawn to him, and he knew how to choose the right people from among the fast talkers and glad-handers his parents sent his way. Graham, who had gone through hell and high water himself, knew what a great skill it was to have. If he had to marry one of his grandsons to Lila’s granddaughter, it would have to be Cedric.

Graham hid his true feelings, though, and mustered up a stern voice to solemnly ask, “Have you heard of Viscount Langton?”

“I have. The Langtons are an old family and I heard that you were an old friend of the late viscount.” Cedric didn’t bother to mention that they were also a ruined family, a shell of what they used to be. The viscount had never in Cedric’s memory been a rich man.

Two major indicators determined the power of nobles: legitimacy and wealth. The former depended on how long the bloodline had remained pure, while the latter depended on how much wealth had been accumulated. And while nobody could deny the legitimacy of Viscount Langton’s lineage, words couldn’t begin to describe how poor the Langtons were.

It wasn’t because they lived in luxury; on the contrary, they had done their best to live frugally. The problem was that when it came to money, the Langton family had absolutely terrible luck. They prided themselves on their noble lineage and had disdain for business, so they were extremely vulnerable to financial disasters, and Viscount Langton compensated his tenants at his own expense whenever they struggled—noblesse oblige, as they say.

The viscount stood tall as if he would rather die than lose his pride. If the harvest was bad one year, the rent was lowered, but the rent never rose again. Regardless of his loss, the Viscount’s charity never ceased. One could peel back Viscount Langton’s skin and find only honor, pierce his veins and spill only the bluest blood, but pull apart his bones and find nothing to eat. That’s what people sarcastically said about the Langtons, and that’s what Cedric had heard about the viscount.

“Right. Well, there is a woman in the Langton family who is of marriageable age. Her name was... Haley, that’s right. She must be about, let’s see... twenty-three years old.” Graham stroked his beard and recalled the little girl he had seen a decade ago, a child with pure blond hair that shone as bright as the spring sun, just like Lila’s had. “Go marry that girl.”

“If this is going to be an arranged marriage, surely there are better candidates than that family,” Cedric replied sharply.

The Langton family left a great deal to be desired. Their land? Dismal. Power? Nonexistent. Wealth? Absolutely not. Honor? Well, they had that, but that was useless to the Duke of Southerwick. He was an accomplished man, so all the medals the emperor gave him could be used as checkers, and adding another family’s honor would just mean more pieces to his collection.

“If this marriage is going to happen against my will, please find a more suitable partner for me,” Cedric began. “In fact, if it’s not too much to ask, please attach a personal statement, a cover letter, and a portrait of the other party next time. I’m too busy to indulge in your new hobby of playing matchmaker. Seriously.”

In addition to dealing with the aftermath of the fire, Cedric still had to inspect the surrounding territories. Recently, there had been a rise in looting incidents perpetrated by disbanded mercenaries on the western outskirts, and Cedric would have to go inspect the area himself. He would bet the mercenaries’ activities were the work of one of his uncles. He was getting fed up with his uncles and cousins.

When he was finished speaking, Cedric slowly got up from his seat. As he turned to leave, he heard the old man’s quiet voice.

“Your lily isn’t pure white either.”

Cedric froze. The house of Southerwick had a lily gripped by a hawk’s claw on its crest, and the white lily was supposed to represent their pure lineage. More precisely, Graham seemed to be referring to the origin of Cedric’s mother. Jaw tightly clenched, Cedric looked back at his grandfather with cold eyes.

“What’s wrong?” asked Graham. “Are you going to flip the table again?”

“Oh please. I’m not fifteen anymore.”

When the old duke heard Cedric’s strained reply, the corners of his mouth twitched and he laughed. His young heir pretended to be calm and collected, but Graham could see that he was still just as awkward as any twenty-something.

You little punk. No matter how tough you act, I still have you in the palm of my hand, he thought while stroking his beard and concealing a smile. “Sit. I’m not finished talking.”

“If this is about my mother, don’t bother.”

“I don’t blame you or your mother. But some of your uncles and cousins are in a foul mood these days, and they’re causing quite the stir.”

Cedric’s mother, Yvette, used to be a famous actress, and while it was true that she was a commoner, it was more important that she was a stranger, a foreigner. She was a beautiful woman with a mysterious charm, but it was difficult to place where she was from. When Cedric’s father, Alexander, announced his marriage to Yvette, everyone had said they were crazy. Cedric did, in fact, remember that his father was indeed crazy, but for his mother.

So, this is love. This is what blind love looks like. Cedric knew it from a young age. After all, if it wasn’t for love, the next duke would never have married a foreign actress.

“I believe that you will be my successor,” Graham said solemnly.

Cedric knew that, as well. Why would he be living like this—when he could have lived a life of debauchery—if not for that? Everyone expected him to toss aside his duties and ruin his life while drunk on alcohol, drugs, and entertainment, and the reason why he didn’t was that he didn’t want to prove anyone right. No matter how much his relatives ridiculed his mixed heritage, it didn’t matter: He would eventually become the next duke, and Graham himself would hand the title over to him.

“But it won’t be easy,” Cedric said. “The others will question my legitimacy. It’ll be a pain in the ass.”

Graham furrowed his brow. It was partly his fault. Having been a sensible duke in the past, he had staunchly opposed the marriage of his eldest son, Alexander. In the end, his son’s stubbornness had won out, though by then Yvette’s belly was already quite swollen regardless. Alexander’s only son, Cedric, was born just two months after the couple married.

Alexander and Yvette’s union was the subject of gossip. On one hand, there were whispers that the duke’s lineage had become tainted with foreign blood, and on the other hand, rumors circulated that as the product of free love, Yvette’s child wasn’t even of the duke’s lineage. As it so happened, Cedric looked more like his mother than his father, except for his blue eyes. Even though the duke was known for his striking blue eyes, there was doubt as to whether Alexander was truly Cedric’s father.

Of course, Cedric’s father denied the allegations and swore that he wouldn’t sit idly by while his family was defamed. But just because people stopped talking, that didn’t mean the dark rumors disappeared. The controversy over his mother’s fidelity was like a skeleton in the closet, a mark that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“That’s why it must be the Langtons, not another family because they have the one thing you lack.”

It was true: Despite the ridicule that plagued Viscount Langton, he was still honorable. He was the thirteenth generation of his family and had been able to maintain the purity of his lineage without changing his surname. It wasn’t easy to pass a family name down through thirteen generations—the royal family’s line ended when after five generations a new branch took over, and even as the eighth Duke of Southerwick, Graham was known as an especially traditional man.

The spouses of successive Viscount Langtons had also always been of noble origin, so based on the concentration of blood alone, the viscount was purer than any other noble. When it came to proving your bloodline, it seemed that there was no better way than to marry a member of the Langton family.

Cedric let out a deep sigh. His family’s squabbles were a headache, but the whispers behind his back were growing louder. Nothing that Graham was saying was wrong.

“I thought I was doing a good job,” Cedric said.

“That you are, my boy. You’re doing quite well.”

Because there was only one duke and the duke’s family was considered more powerful than the king, the attention of the press and the public gaze were on them. It was a position that demanded suppressing even the slightest anxiety.

“The other nobles seem to want us to take responsibility, too. Don’t think of it as a debt. You don’t need to throw away your pride.” Graham clicked his tongue.

As Duke of Southerwick, Graham had been close to the late viscount, Morgan Langton, and had helped him out financially in the past, but only after making him swear an oath that he would return the favor: If the Southerwicks ever wished to join their families together, the Langtons would agree to their request.

After a moment’s pause, Cedric nodded. “I understand. I’ll marry the girl.”

“Really?” Graham asked, beaming.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful! Then make sure you visit the viscount without delay.”

The old duke clapped his hands together. His grandson had accepted this arranged marriage idea more smoothly than expected, given Cedric’s terribly stubborn streak.

“I have just one question, Grandfather.”

“What is it?” Graham frowned at his grandson’s rude tone.

“Is that really the only reason?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there any other reason why you want this marriage to happen?”

“Are you crazy?” Graham snapped. “What are you trying to imply?”

“Well, Grandmother said...” Cedric was dragging his words out and it set Graham’s nerves on edge.

“What did your grandmother say?”

“She said the late viscount’s wife, Lila Langton, was quite the beauty in her youth.” The corners of Cedric’s lips quirked upwards into a sly smile. “She also told me about a foolish man who was head over heels in love with her. He was so lovesick he couldn’t even take his meals.”

Graham kept his mouth shut, his beard quivering, as Cedric continued eloquently.

“However, Lila was already betrothed to her lover, who just happened to be that man’s best friend, so the foolish man never got a chance to confess to her.” Cedric shook his head as if pitying the poor man. Graham’s shoulders twitched slightly. “On the day of Lila’s marriage to poor Viscount Langton, the foolish man even snuck out of the wedding to cry his heart out.”

Cedric let out an exaggerated sigh. Graham bowed his head a little more.

“Grandmother said it was backbreaking work to look after this fool. I believe she said she would never want to do it again, not in a million years.”

“Damn it...”As Cedric continued to speak calmly, curses slipped from between the Duke’s lips. Still, his grandson kept a straight face.

“Grandfather, do you happen to know who that whimpering coward—”

“All right, I was that bumbling fool! Me! So what?!” roared the duke from across the room. He was breathing heavily, scowling while Cedric eyed him like a predator, but with resolve in his gaze. One side of Cedric’s mouth pulled into a smile.

“I knew it. My esteemed grandfather is never one to disappoint,” he said, applauding insincerely.