42: Chapter 42 A Grand Wedding! An Unwilling Bride!

Gino City, Earl Farrells Estate.

Suppressed, angry arguments came from the study.

"Father! Why must I marry that Carlos Gladstone?! A fourteen-year-old brat!"

Elena Farrell's voice lost the elegance of a noble lady, carrying a girl's sharpness and unwillingness.

She had just turned eighteen this year, wearing a light blue slim-fit dress in the style of the Ice Source Rune University of Will Province.

At this moment, her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she looked like an angry leopardess.

Count Farrell sat behind the desk, his expression calm. He said indifferently, "Elena, mind your words and demeanor."

"Carlos Gladstone is the rightful heir of the Gladstone Family, my vassal, whose father perished protecting the territory."

"This marriage is the Farrell Family's protection and promise to the orphan of a vassal, a necessary move to stabilize the Mist Territory."

"Put away your unrealistic romantic fantasies. You are a daughter of the Farrell Family; your marriage has never been just your own personal affair."

"Protection? Promise?" Elena sneered, her eyes full of grievance. "What does that have to do with me?! Why drag me into it? Isn't it enough to just let that brat live in Gino City?"

"Elena!" Count Farrell raised his voice slightly. A subtle pressure spread out, making Elena's breath hitch.

"Your duty is to obey, to play the role of Miss Farrell well, the future Lady Gladstone."

"You may continue your courses at the Ice Source Rune University, but your identity, your belonging, must be here."

"The output of the Mist Forest, the connections of the Gladstone Family in the north, and... shutting some people's mouths—these are the values of this marriage."

"You don't need to understand everything. You only need to remember that your surname grants you glory, but it also grants you responsibility."

"If you continue to act out, I wouldn't mind having you end your studies early and return to focus on learning how to become a qualified noble wife."

The cold words and uncompromising gaze were like ice water extinguishing the last flame of Elena's resistance.

She looked into her father's bottomless eyes, remembering the rumors about him, and the endless stream of mistresses and illegitimate children he had after her mother's early death...

She finally turned her head stubbornly, her shoulders trembling slightly, and stopped speaking, a silent compromise.

"Go now. Prepare well for your wedding."

"Remember, in front of everyone, you must be the most appropriate bride." Count Farrell waved his hand and picked up the quill on the desk again, as if the argument just now was an insignificant interlude.

Elena bit her lower lip, lifted her skirt, and rushed out of the study, feeling sullen.

The portraits of ancestors on the wall seemed to be watching her coldly.

Happiness? Appropriate?

She only felt like a sacrifice about to be offered, wearing finery as she walked toward a suffocating cage.

Holy Calendar 1853, the fifteenth day of the Harvest Moon.

Earl Farrells Estate was decorated with lanterns and festoons, filled with guests; the nobles, magistrates, and wealthy merchants of Gino County were almost all gathered.

Rowan arrived on time.

He wore a well-tailored black suit, his gaze sweeping over the bustling crowd.

Even knowing that Count Farrell had some connection with the Crimson Knights, surface etiquette was indispensable.

The wedding ceremony was held in the small chapel inside the Earl Farrells Estate.

When Elena Farrell took her father's arm and stepped onto the carpet covered with rose petals toward the altar, she immediately attracted everyone's attention.

She wore a pure white wedding dress with a train, made of expensive cloud silk.

The hem and veil were embroidered with fine gold-threaded lily patterns, shimmering with a soft luster under the light filtering through the chapel's skylight.

Her light golden hair was meticulously woven into a complex bun, adorned with pearls and small jewels.

Her appearance inherited the advantages of the Farrell Family—clear eyebrows, a straight bridge of the nose, and lips of a healthy, soft pink, carrying the fullness unique to a young girl.

Yet those eyes, which should have been lively or shy, were now excessively calm, even carrying a trace of imperceptible emptiness, staining the beauty brought out by the finery with a faint layer of melancholy.

She held her chin slightly high, maintaining the demeanor of a noble young lady, but the tightly pursed corners of her lips betrayed her thoughts.

[Rating: 82]

The system panel appeared silently in Rowan's field of vision.

Among the guests, this score was indeed outstanding, especially that temperament mixed with a certain detachment and resistance, set against the pure white wedding dress—it was quite delicious.

And that Carlos Gladstone, wearing a miniature version of a noble suit, seemed somewhat out of place.

He did indeed look only about fourteen, his build was on the smaller side, and the light gray eyes inherited from the Gladstone Family were large, but now they appeared somewhat cowardly.

Carlos glanced at the tall, imposing father-in-law beside him and his beautiful yet cold new wife, with a hint of confusion on his face.

Rowan watched the newlyweds with great interest.

He didn't care about Carlos; Viscount Gladstone was dead, and the grievances between the two sides were settled.

The ceremony was long and formal.

When the priest announced that the two were husband and wife.

Carlos tremblingly tried to put the ring on Elena, but almost dropped it, causing a repressed low laugh from the audience.

A flash of humiliation and annoyance quickly crossed Elena's face, but she soon returned to that perfect calmness.

The ceremony ended, and the banquet in the ballroom began.

Elena changed into a lighter noble gown and, together with Carlos, led by Count Farrell, toasted the important guests.

When she walked to Rowan's table, her gaze inadvertently swept over his face, and those eyes, originally carrying some emptiness, suddenly lit up.

Rowan's handsomeness was of a highly impactful kind.

His amber eyes were deep, his features were like a sculpture, his posture was upright, and his temperament had both the tenacity of a frontier lord and an indescribable calmness and mystery.

Among all the nobles present, he stood out like a crane in a flock of chickens.

Elena's footsteps paused imperceptibly, and her fingers holding the wine glass tightened slightly.

But she quickly moved her gaze away, as if that instant sparkle in her eyes did not exist.

She followed etiquette, raised her glass slightly to Rowan, her voice flat: "Thank you for coming, Baron Rowan."

"Congratulations, Miss Farrell, Lady Gladstone." Rowan toasted in return, his tone gentle and appropriate, his gaze retracting politely after a brief touch.

It was Lady Lillian, who had come uninvited to Rowan's side, who took in this scene.

She was wearing a wine-red off-shoulder long dress today, outlining her mature and plump curves, and her light purple eyes turned between Rowan and Elena.

After the newlyweds walked away, she leaned lazily toward Rowan, her red lips almost touching his earlobe, her warm breath carrying the aroma of wine:

"Our beautiful little bride seems to have been dazzled by our handsome Baron..."

"How about it? Do you want me to help you play matchmaker? This little poor thing who looks like she was forced to marry is the easiest to get..."

Rowan remained calm, also lowered his voice, and said with a straight face: "My lady is joking, I am not that kind of person."

Hearing this, Lady Lillian's eyes rippled, and her fingertips brushed ambiguously across the back of Rowan's hand, "Is that so..."

The wedding ended in a chorus of blessings.

The guests dispersed in twos and threes, occasionally discussing the deep meaning behind this marriage.

Night, West District of Gino City.

Inside an independent manor belonging to the newlyweds.

It was newly decorated, and traces of celebration could be seen everywhere.

The servants were well-trained and moved lightly, yet they appeared respectful and distant toward Carlos, the nominal male master.

Their eyes followed Elena more.

The bridal chambers were separate.

Elena had the master bedroom, while Carlos was arranged in a smaller guest room on the other side.

He couldn't even step into the master bedroom before being coldly locked out by Elena.

Attempts to communicate only received a few impatient perfunctory remarks.

Trying to touch her, the other party dodged like a frightened rabbit, the disgust in her eyes undisguised.

Carlos sat alone in the cold, luxurious guest room, looking at the unfamiliar night view outside the window, feeling a huge sense of grievance and loneliness rushing toward him.

Father is dead, died in an unclear way.

Uncle Knight Derek, who treated him very well on weekdays, is also dead.

Knight Daniel is even more...

The territory can't be returned to now, taken over by the auxiliary official sent by Count Farrell.

He became a lord in name, but was trapped in this gorgeous manor like a prisoner...