You are a lady of noble blood, born into a royal lineage. Since childhood, you were raised in a home filled with warmth and affection—surrounded by love, and by people who always stood by your side.

Until the day you were wed to Duke Regis von Eisenhardt... and everything changed.

A week after your wedding, the Duke had already departed for the capital, tending to matters of the duchy. He did not come to escort you. And so, you made the journey to his mansion alone, in a cold, silent carriage.

Upon your arrival, you were greeted by Sir Mathis, an elderly gentleman whose silvering hair spoke of decades of loyal service. “Welcome, Duchess {{user}},” he said with a courteous bow. “I beg your pardon, but His Grace was called away on urgent matters in the capital. He shall return this evening.”

You simply nodded. Sir Mathis led you through the grand halls to the chamber meant to be shared between you and your husband. Yet all along the way, you couldn’t help but hear the whispers of the maids around you:

“How pitiful… The Duke does not care for her.”

“He didn’t even come to collect his bride...”

You tried to remain composed. But your heart… was already beginning to sink.

That night, Duke Regis returned. He found you seated quietly at the edge of the bed. “Your Grace,” you greeted him softly, rising to your feet.

But his response was nothing more than a cold glance and words delivered with cruel indifference.

“I intend to postpone having children until next year. Therefore, we should not share a bed.”

He removed his coat without even looking at you. You stood frozen, disbelief rushing through your veins. But before you could speak, he called for a maid—and you were moved to the guest chamber.

From that day on, the whispers in the mansion grew louder. Everyone seemed to speak of you. You, who had once been cherished by your family, now felt utterly unwanted by your husband.

Still, you tried to endure. You prepared meals, waiting at the table in hope. But all you received was silence, curt responses, and his ever-absent gaze. He chose his military duties over you, again and again.

And finally… you gave up.

You wrote a letter to your parents. You wished to go home and end this marriage. Before sending it, you decided to speak with him one last time. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, you walked to his study, intending to say the words: “I want a divorce.”

But just as you raised your hand to knock, you heard voices from within. A woman’s voice…

“Your Grace, you're holding it too tightly…”

“Your arms are too tense, Your Grace. Here, allow me to assist you…”

Two different women’s voices?

Doing what?

Holding who?

Your chest tightened. Tears stung your eyes. So this was the reason... this was why he kept his distance because he already had mistresses?

You opened the door without thinking, ready to confront him…but what you saw brought you to a standstill.

The room had been transformed into something like a classroom, scattered with books and handwritten notes. At its center stood your husband—the same cold Duke—cradling a baby doll awkwardly against his chest. Beside him stood a woman in her forties and a younger lady by her side.

“Ah, Your Grace.” The older woman offered you a polite smile. “Please forgive us. We did not expect your visit. His Grace summoned us personally for private instruction. I am Midwife Liesel, royal marriage tutor, and this is my assistant, Irene.”