This Marriage Will Surely Succeed-Chapter 217

The Archduke wasn’t the type to trick people with food, and to be fair, the taste wasn’t bad.

After diligently finishing the warm meal, Iona could feel the lingering warmth spreading through her once-cold body.

She had to admit—Leroy’s suggestion to eat first had ultimately worked in her favor.

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Even if the silence surrounding them had only grown more awkward.

Only after confirming that Iona had finished her plate did Leroy turn back to his conversation with the Archduke.

Meeting the Archduke’s dissatisfied gaze with composure, Leroy spoke.

“Before we get to the main topic, there are two things I’d like to correct.”

“...Go ahead.”

“I did not marry my wife for her background.”

The moment Leroy finished speaking, a scoff escaped from the Archduke’s lips.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Leroy’s words—rather, it was simply too out of place in the current atmosphere.

Dressed in his neatly tailored suit, solemnly declaring the purity of their relationship, he looked like someone professing love rather than engaging in political discourse.

The Archduke, unable to hide his exasperation, asked,

“Are you trying to claim it was a love marriage or something?”

“We had a connection long before.”

“Ha. Right. Better to play the romantic than admit you surrendered to power.”

The Archduke sneered, unwilling to back down.

His distrust was obvious, but Leroy didn’t bother arguing further.

After all, he didn’t need anyone’s approval for his relationship with her.

What he truly wanted to correct was something else entirely.

Leroy gave a cold smile.

“Secondly, my wife bears no resemblance to the former Count.”

The Archduke’s eyebrows rose.

It was as if he were trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind Leroy’s words.

He had likely already heard from Erich that the couple harbored ill feelings toward the imperial family.

And yet, he had continued to push them—perhaps because he still doubted the truth of those claims.

He wouldn’t want to be deceived by smooth-tongued youth and end up as nothing more than a puppet in the Empress’ hands.

“Well, I suppose my judgment wasn’t wrong after all,” the Archduke replied coolly. “That ability to ensnare others—especially to the point of making them lose their senses—reminds me quite a bit of a certain person I used to know.” ꞦᴀΝＯᛒƐꞩ

His voice was restrained, but in his attempt to suppress his emotions, he had revealed a glimpse of the anger simmering beneath.

This realization left Iona feeling strangely unsettled.

‘Did he have some kind of dispute over a woman?’

Before his marriage, Hayden had been infamous among the nobility for his womanizing ways.

It wasn’t something he had ever been ashamed of, and his friends had spoken of it with amusement, making it easy to hear such stories.

Judging by how the Archduke spoke of Hayden’s affairs, it seemed he had personally experienced the pain of having a woman he loved stolen away—or at the very least, someone close to him had suffered because of Hayden’s.

‘This is unexpected. I never thought Hayden’s infidelity would be the problem here.’

In a way, this might have been a fortunate turn of events.

For Iona, it was far easier to deny any connection to Hayden than to refute her ties with the imperial family.

She had once sincerely served Richard, and even now, she hadn’t fully severed those ties.

But there was overwhelming evidence of her estrangement from Hayden’s.

By chance, the servants had already cleared the empty dishes and left the room.

Sensing it was the right moment, Iona set her spoon down on the table with quiet resolve.

“On matters of romance, I find myself agreeing with Your Grace,” she said. “I am well aware that the late Count was infamous for his excessive affairs. However, unlike him, I am devoted to my spouse.”

The Archduke turned his gaze to Iona.

For a moment, his eyes seemed unfocused, as if he were superimposing Hayden’s image onto her.

His jaw clenched.

“Watch your words. That’s not something to say so flippantly.”

“And yet, is it not a greater insult to equate me with such a man?”

Iona calmly pointed out his rudeness.

Of course, the Archduke did not offer an apology.

He had intended his words as an attack, and just because she had called him out on it didn’t mean he would back down.

Suppressing a sigh, Iona continued,

“Before you judge me through the same lens as the former Count, at the very least, I would ask that you give me the chance to clear up such misunderstandings.”

Had Iona’s perfectly reasonable suggestion—to hear them out before making a judgment—touched a nerve?

The Archduke’s already strained composure shattered completely, and his expression darkened with open hostility.

He jabbed a thick, calloused finger toward Iona and lashed out.

“A chance to prove you’re someone else? You certainly know how to talk, considering you inherited every last scrap of that man’s estate. His legitimate heirs were right there, yet you’re the one who took the title. I suppose you proved your worth to your master quite well, didn’t you? And it just so happens the timing of your inheritance lines up perfectly with your marriage to the Duke. The Count’s legitimate children went missing on their way to the estate, no less.”

Listening to the Archduke lay out the events in order, Iona couldn’t deny that it all sounded rather damning.

Some of the incidents had nothing to do with her—some were orchestrated by Richard or Leroy—but the Archduke was convinced they were all co-conspirators.

Iona realized that, in his mind, a fully formed picture had already taken shape.

And, naturally, it was not one that worked in her or Leroy’s favor.

“I always knew you were a shrewd operator.” The Archduke continued, his voice dripping with contempt. “You know how to use people and discard them when they’re no longer useful. That’s what you and the former Count have most in common.”

“......”

“Don’t tell me you think that just because you got rid of him, you’re a different kind of person?”

His voice was low and cutting.

The already precarious conversation had finally crossed the line.

Leroy moved as if to stand, his restraint snapping.

But before he could, Iona reached out and pressed a hand firmly against his chest, holding him down.

To the Archduke, she was nothing more than a vile schemer—someone who had slaughtered her adoptive father and his children for power, all while seducing a Duke into marriage.

And in some ways, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

But Iona had her own reasons.

Reasons that only she could reveal.

With a composed expression, she spoke.

“Your Grace is right. There may be similarities between me and my father.”

“Iona.”

Leroy called her name in a low voice, but she ignored him, keeping her gaze locked onto the Archduke.

“It’s only natural. The former Count wasn’t just my adoptive father—he was my birth father.”

The room froze.

Right then, as if on cue, there was a knock at the dining room door, signaling the arrival of the next course.

The servant turned the handle, preparing to enter.

But the Archduke, who had been momentarily stunned, suddenly snapped back to his senses.

His thunderous voice rang out.

“No one is to enter!”

The startled servant hesitated, then quickly retreated.

Once the hallway had fallen silent, the Archduke turned back to Iona, his voice edged with urgency.

“What did you just say?”

“Exactly what you heard. The late Count was my biological father. I was his illegitimate child.”

Iona spoke evenly, her voice unwavering.

“He discovered my usefulness and officially registered me in the family. Until then, I spent the first ten years of my life hidden away.”

“An illegitimate child…?”

The Archduke slowly rose from his seat.

Iona, preparing to continue her explanation, was momentarily caught off guard by his sudden movement.

He stepped around the table, coming to stand directly in front of her.

His sharp gaze scrutinized her face, as if searching for something.

The seething rage and hostility that had dominated his expression before had vanished.

Now, only confusion remained.

His face was unreadable.

Iona wasn’t sure how to react. She could only look up at him in silence.

“Your age… No, if that’s the case, then… No….”

The Archduke murmured disjointed fragments of thought as if his mind were racing too fast to form coherent sentences.

His uncharacteristic rambling was almost unsettling.

Then, as if shaking off a storm of thoughts, he gave his head a sharp shake.

Slowly, he swallowed and asked,

“Did you… live with your mother before you were registered?”

-- End Of The Chapter --

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