Chapter 1

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: A Perfect Marriage
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Part 1. London

It was the wedding day of Miss Elizabeth Deyer and Mr. Edward Morton.

Their marriage had been a subject of great interest since their engagement.

This was because Miss Deyer was the only daughter of Viscount Deyer, an active member of Parliament, and Mr. Morton was the eldest son of Admiral Morton, who had distinguished himself in dozens of naval battles over the past thirty years.

The union of these two prominent families was considered one of the finest matches in the close-knit society of London.

Even the London aristocracy, who delighted in gossip and were just as fervent in their slander, could find little fault with the making of this couple.

The nobles chattered only about which designer had crafted Elizabeth's dress and what kind of wood would be used for the furniture in the new residence Mr. Morton had prepared for his bride.

On the day of the wedding, a procession of elegant two-wheeled carriages and fine steeds streamed toward the church.

The guest list was overwhelming—a veritable assembly of titled aristocrats, politicians, and military men.

Once all the distinguished guests were seated, Reverend Lloyds, who was to officiate the wedding, stood at the chancel in his white vestments.

The hall fell silent, devoid of even the slightest whisper.

Reverend Lloyds scanned the congregation.

Then, after a few brief words of courtesy to God, who would be watching over the union, he promptly signaled for the groom's entrance.

The groom, Edward Morton, appeared at the entrance.

As befitting a military man, he walked with a straight and disciplined gait.

Following in his father's footsteps to join the navy, he had been dispatched to a remote post beyond his father's influence, where he led several naval battles to success, becoming a captain at the young age of twenty-nine.

However, it was not his military achievements or his family's influence that had made him famous in London, but his peculiar demeanor.

An exceedingly brusque and cold expression. A taciturn and frosty manner.

He maintained this attitude—appropriate only when commanding a fleet—during social events as well, whether strolling through Hyde Park on his way to church, being introduced to a lady at a ball, or being invited to a duke's dinner party.

Because of this, many who cared for Edward had to go to great lengths to explain that there was no malice in his actions.

Even on his wedding day, Edward's expression was unchanged.

His lips were set in a hard line, his blue eyes devoid of any emotion.

There was no hint of joy, not even of nervousness.

People inwardly clicked their tongues. *Truly, he is something else.*

Soon, the gazes that had been fixed on the groom shifted to another point.

The entrance to the church.

Miss Elizabeth Deyer, in a pure white dress and a translucent veil.

She held Viscount Deyer's arm with one hand and a bouquet in the other.

The bouquet was the freshest and most beautiful of the thousands of flowers adorning the church, yet it could not compare to the beauty of its holder, Miss Deyer.

Though Miss Deyer had attracted countless admirers since her debut in society two years prior, today she was different.

It was not merely the beauty that radiated from her stunning features, her blonde hair, and her lovely olive-green eyes.

Her entire expression was dazzlingly radiant. She was in full bloom, blossomed by love.

With every step she took down the aisle, the captivated gazes of the onlookers followed her.

In that moment, her much-talked-about French dress and the Italian wedding veil, specially procured by the Viscount, were forgotten.

There was only Miss Deyer's gait, Miss Deyer's expression, Miss Deyer's smile.

People held their breath, following her every movement.

At last, she stood beside the man who would soon be her husband, before the altar.

The Viscount handed his precious daughter over to him and stepped back.

The two stood at the altar. One was smiling brilliantly, while the other remained as cold as ice.

A sense of pity welled up in people's hearts.

*Edward Morton*, they thought, *does not seem the least bit happy, even though he is gaining such a beautiful wife.*

The eligible bachelors in attendance felt a sense of injustice.

The reverend delivered a short and clear sermon on the fidelity and virtue of a husband and wife.

As a London parish priest, he knew how little patience the guests present had for long sermons.

Soon, the man and woman exchanged rings, and Reverend Lloyds permitted them to kiss.

Edward slowly bent his head and lightly touched his lips to Elizabeth's.

However, just as applause was about to erupt, those seated near the altar gasped softly.

They immediately looked at the person next to them to confirm what they had seen and found the same astonishment on their neighbor's face.

The moment Edward lifted his lips from Elizabeth's, a single tear had fallen from his eye.

Good heavens.

He quickly wiped his face with his hand, erasing the evidence, but in doing so, he alerted even those sitting too far away to have seen it that he had shed a tear.

Those who had witnessed it with their own eyes, gleeful at the thought of boasting at future tea parties that they had seen Edward Morton's tear firsthand, gave the couple a thunderous round of applause as they walked back down the aisle.

After the ceremony, the guests moved to a nearby reception hall.

A reception worthy of the guests' expectations had been prepared.

Silverware and Indian-made plates were set on numerous tables, along with a mountain of buffet food and a wine fountain, all prepared by chefs brought—no, *escorted*—from France. There was even an orchestra that could rival a respectable opera company.

It was the result of Viscount Deyer, normally frugal for his station, spending his saved pounds as if he had gone mad.

While the guests sat at their respective tables enjoying the meal, Mr. and Mrs. Morton, having changed into a reception dress and a light-colored suit, appeared in the hall. They went from table to table, expressing their gratitude to each of the key figures who had attended their wedding.

Between the members of Viscount Deyer's political party and Admiral Morton's military colleagues, they had to flit between dozens of tables.

But Elizabeth showed no sign of fatigue, her lilac dress fluttering as she greeted everyone with a smiling face.

The guests couldn't help but be pleased as the bride, who had displayed such overwhelming beauty at the ceremony, graced them with her lovely smile.

However, Admiral Morton's friends, a group of high-ranking officers, were, unlike the other guests, coarse and verbose, and had drunk a great deal of wine.

Their well-wishes devolved into drunken ramblings, and they held the bride and groom captive for over twenty minutes.

Elizabeth, who had been listening to their rambling with a gentle expression, squeezed her husband's arm with a grip that was almost a pinch.

Edward Morton subtly leaned his head toward Elizabeth, who, maintaining her smile, whispered just loud enough for her husband to hear.

"Darling, if we don't escape this table right now, I'm going to throw those respectable gentlemen into the wine fountain."

Edward Morton gave a small nod.

He then casually mentioned to the officers the location of the smoking room inside the building and the expensive cigars in the drawer of a table there.

Of course, the finest brandy and sherry would be waiting there as well.

The men abandoned their wives and headed for the smoking room, and the ladies, their faces flushed from their husbands' drunken behavior, quickly sent the young couple on their way.

Elizabeth sank into an empty chair away from the crowd.

Her face was incomparably paler than it had been at the ceremony.

Edward immediately went to the buffet table and returned with a slice of cake and a cup of coffee.

He handed her the coffee cup, then used a fork to feed her the cake, piece by piece.

Elizabeth obediently accepted the cake.

Until the entire slice on the plate was gone.

Those who saw this from a distance couldn't believe their eyes.

*My word, is Edward Morton playing mother bird to his wife?*

When Elizabeth had finished the plate, he knelt before her on one knee and began to massage her swollen calves through her dress.

Elizabeth, her face flushing, glanced around before taking his hand.

"Stop. I'm all right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He let go of her legs. Then he took his wife's hand, which rested on her lap, and held it tightly.

"You can relax now. We're more or less done with the greetings."

"Thank goodness. I'm so tired. More so than after dancing the quadrille until dawn."

Edward fiddled with the wedding ring on Elizabeth's hand and then smiled faintly.

"Ah, I'm worried you might fall into my arms again."

Elizabeth's eyes widened.

"What do you mean?"

"You remember the day we first met. On the stairs at the ball Mrs. Jensen hosted. When you missed a step and fell into my arms."

Elizabeth let out a small "Ah," and then laughed.

"It was less falling and more crashing into you. Very hard."

"Yes. Very hard. So hard that you got a nosebleed. It gushed so much my white shirt was stained crimson. I was about to call for a doctor, thinking you would faint, but you just stuffed your nose with cotton and went on enjoying the ball."

Elizabeth chuckled.

"My favorite song was playing, how could I just leave? Besides, my dress was maple-colored, so it wasn't very noticeable. But why did you leave so quickly that day? I was sure you were going to ask me to dance."

"I couldn't stay in that shirt. Anyone would have thought I'd been shot. And I thought you'd be embarrassed to see me. Of course, you weren't embarrassed at all."

Elizabeth grinned, as if to say, *of course*.

Seeing his wife's smile, Edward found himself smiling as well.

Anyone who knew Edward would know how difficult it was to draw a smile from him.

Elizabeth was one of the very few people who could make him smile.

"Still, don't think I wasn't embarrassed at all. When I saw you after that, you looked at me so coldly, it was quite intimidating. I thought you were angry with me."

"Is that why you left so quickly?"

"I could barely swallow my food. You were staring at me so icily with those blue eyes. A look that said, 'You little hoyden. How can you even eat?'"

"Well, I look at my mother and grandmother that way too."

"If you ever have an audience with Her Majesty the Queen, will you look at her that way too?"

"Perhaps?"

"In that case, please don't make eye contact with Her Majesty. If she keeps looking at you, she won't live a long life."

Edward chuckled softly and brushed Elizabeth's chin with his fingertips.

"It's a miracle you accepted my proposal after all that."

"I, too, wouldn't have believed it if someone had told me three months ago that I would become Mrs. Morton. Even if it was Laura… Oh!"

Elizabeth shot up as if she'd remembered something.

"Laura! I haven't seen Laura today! Heavens, how could I have forgotten her!"

Edward rose with her and asked.

"You mean Miss Pendleton?"

"Yes! Darling, Edward, please find Laura for me! If I don't see her today, I won't see her until after our honeymoon!"