This Villain Is Mine Now - Chapter 35

Early in the morning, the Marchioness of Redwood was having her maid apply cream to her face. The maid, ever the sycophant, remarked with a smile, “Madam, your skin is particularly smooth today.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes, Madam. I suppose it’s because you’ve been feeling so at ease lately. You look at least five, no, ten years younger.”

The Marchioness chuckled, her laughter ringing out. Indeed, as the maid had said, she had been feeling very relaxed these days. After twenty years of dealing with Diane, who had been like a thorn lodged under her fingernail, she was finally about to rid the house of her.

Her husband might have been displeased that Diane’s engagement to Archduke Grant had fallen through, but the Marchioness was hardly troubled by it. Despite the family’s ambitions, she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing that wretched girl strutting around as the Archduchess.

“It won’t be long now, will it?” the maid asked in a suggestive tone. The Marchioness nodded with a satisfied smile.

“Indeed. Less than a month, I think. I’ve spoken to the Marquis, and we’ll be sending her off to a convent far, far away from the capital. Somewhere she won’t cross our paths again in this lifetime.”

The Marchioness had always been quick to dismiss any maids who caught her husband’s eye, banishing them from the house without a second thought. But Diane’s mother had been different. She had been just another lowly servant, doing menial tasks like laundry and washing dishes—someone the Marchioness hadn’t even bothered to notice. It wasn’t until later that she realized the woman had been more beautiful than she had ever imagined.

Remembering Diane’s mother, who was now long dead, caused the Marchioness to frown.

“Madam, don’t frown. Why should you let a mere girl ruin your mood?” the maid whispered soothingly. The Marchioness took a deep breath and forced a smile.

“You’re right. I won’t let something like that upset me. What’s on the schedule for today?”

“Yes, Madam. This morning, you’re scheduled to attend Countess Settemba’s book club meeting…”

It was then that a commotion erupted.

“Madam! Something terrible has happened!”

The sound of someone running down the corridor reached their ears before the butler burst into the room, his face pale with fright.

“What’s all this about? What’s happened?”

“S-some guests… Hah… I mean, guests have arrived,” the butler stammered, struggling to catch his breath.

“Guests? Were we expecting any visitors today?” the Marchioness asked, exchanging a glance with the maid, who shook her head. There had been no scheduled visitors for the day.

“They weren’t scheduled in advance.”

The butler’s words were strange, and the Marchioness furrowed her brow, urging him to explain more clearly. The butler, still panting, quickly continued.

“They… they’ve come to propose marriage to Miss Diane. A large group of them.”

“Marriage proposals? A large group? What do you mean?”

“I think you should come out and see for yourself. They’re all waiting in the foyer for you and the Marquis.”

With that, the butler hurried off to inform the Marquis, leaving the Marchioness in a state of bewilderment.

As she descended the stairs, the sight in the foyer came into view, leaving her momentarily speechless.

One, two, five, ten… More than ten men had gathered in the foyer, chatting amongst themselves. One of them spotted the Marchioness as she descended and greeted her loudly.

“Marchioness!”

Over twenty pairs of eyes instantly focused on the Marchioness as she descended the stairs. Startled, she forced a smile and continued her descent, her mind racing as she took in the faces of those who had gathered in her home. Each face was familiar, belonging to the scions of powerful and influential families—faces she could hardly fail to recognize.

‘What on earth are all these people doing here…’

As she awkwardly surveyed the room, a man stepped forward from the group and bowed to her. He was dressed in the red uniform of the Imperial Guard, a figure the Marchioness knew well.

With a bright, golden hair that shimmered like sunlight and piercing blue eyes, he was as striking in appearance as his promising future suggested. When he smiled, the Marchioness hurriedly averted her gaze. He was young enough to be her son, yet his looks were so captivating that they made her heart skip a beat.

“Good morning. I am Leo, the second son of Count Bonaparte. It is an honor to meet you, Marchioness,” he greeted her.

“Oh… yes, of course,” she stammered, struggling to hide her surprise as she extended her hand.

Leo took her hand and kissed it lightly, then asked, “We’ve come to visit the Marquis, but we haven’t received any direction, so we’ve all been waiting here. Will it take much longer?”

“Oh, well… the Marquis is…” she hesitated, realizing how early it was. It was not a suitable time for receiving guests, and the Marquis had likely not even risen from bed yet.

Suddenly, the Marchioness became acutely aware that she had only just applied her morning cream and was otherwise bare-faced. Flustered, she quickly turned around and covered her face with her hands.

“Please wait a moment. I’ll go inform the Marquis myself.”

“Thank you, Marchioness.”

As she hurried up the stairs, the men exchanged glances, their expressions hinting at a shared, unspoken amusement, as if they were all in on some secret. But the Marchioness, too preoccupied with her own embarrassment, was completely oblivious to their knowing looks.

***

“Hmm. This is certainly unusual,” the Marquis muttered as he finally descended to the foyer about thirty minutes later, now fully dressed and composed.

He took in the scene before him with a furrowed brow. His wife and the butler had informed him that about ten guests had arrived, but now the number seemed to have swelled to nearly twenty young men standing before him.

The Marquis narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the assembly. Each of these young men came from prominent families—names that anyone with social standing would recognize.

‘This is very strange.’

These were the same families that had shown little interest when he had initially proposed marriage alliances with Diane. So why had they suddenly appeared, insisting on proposing to her now?

Despite his confusion, the Marquis knew this wasn’t a bad turn of events. Stroking his mustache, he allowed a small, self-satisfied smile to play on his lips.

After all, men could be so simple, often valuing a woman’s beauty as much as her lineage. He had kept Diane’s questionable parentage a closely guarded secret, ensuring that the household appeared as a united, respectable family from the outside. While there might still be rumors about her true origins, what mattered was the credible title of “Marquis’s daughter.”

“So, you’ve all come to propose to my daughter,” he said aloud.

One man in particular caught the Marquis’s eye—Leo Bonaparte, the second son of Count Bonaparte, and the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard. His family was as distinguished as his handsome appearance suggested. At the Marquis’s words, Leo smiled and nodded.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Leo replied.

“But you’ve never even met my daughter,” the Marquis said, narrowing his eyes further, trying to discern Leo’s intentions. However, Leo’s smile remained inscrutable, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.

“Hmm! Well, let’s hear what you have to say,” the Marquis finally relented.

A short while later, loud voices erupted from the study.

“Get out! Right now! You scoundrel!”

The Marquis’s enraged shout was loud enough to be heard outside the study, causing the men waiting their turn to exchange amused glances. Even Leo, as he was ushered out of the study, shared in the quiet laughter.

“I’ve heard you’re quite protective of your daughter, Marquis, but it seems that’s not entirely the case,” Leo remarked calmly.

“Out! Get out at once!” The Marquis bellowed, his face red with fury, as Leo bowed politely and exited the study.

Similar outbursts echoed from the study nearly twenty times as the other young men took their turns.

By the time all the guests had left, the Marquis was left alone in the study, his face alternating between shades of red and purple with anger. The Marchioness, having just seen off the last of the visitors, hurried over to him.

“What on earth has got you so upset? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” she asked, perplexed.

After all, it was the Marquis himself who had insisted that Diane be sent to a convent, claiming that it was the best solution. She couldn’t understand why he was now so furious.

“With so many potential suitors, why are you so angry?”

“Suitors? Ha! They’re nothing but a bunch of thieves!”

The Marquis couldn’t contain his rage any longer and hurled his teacup against the wall. The cup shattered with a loud crash, sending pieces flying in all directions.

The butler rushed in with a broom to clean up the mess, but the Marchioness was still bewildered.

“Thieves? They were all from highly reputable families,” she mused, mentally reviewing the list of young men who had visited, trying to pick out the best prospects—not for Diane, of course, but for their sons’ future advancement.

“You wouldn’t be so calm if you knew what they had the nerve to ask of me!” the Marquis snapped, raising his voice in frustration. His wife, equally exasperated, stamped her foot.

“What exactly did they ask for?” she demanded.

Grinding his teeth, the Marquis spat out his answer, “They want Diane’s dowry increased fivefold.”

The Marchioness’s jaw dropped. She stood there, stunned, trying to process what she had just heard, her mind reeling in disbelief.