4
“Isabelle, this is a matter of your own heart. I cannot make that choice for you.”
“Isabelle, this is a matter of your own heart. I cannot make that choice for you.”
Although my stepsister was a lady of the ducal house, her mother was of low birth, a mistress her father had taken. To be a first
wife, Isabelle would have to marry down.
In our past life, she had married a minor official from a poor family. Though his rank was low, he treated her exceptionally well and took no other woman. But she despised her husband’s lack of ambition and turned their home into a chaotic mess.
This time, with the far more promising Josh, she ought to be satisfied.
Isabelle’s pink lips pouted as she tested the waters, half–joking.
“Eleonora, you haven’t fallen for Josh as well, have you?”
Seeing the suspicion and vigilance in her eyes, my expression grew cold.
Rest assured, sister. I will never marry Josh Atreides in this lifetime.”
Seeing my anger, Isabelle quickly changed her tune, shaking my arm and playing the coquette. “I’m sorry, sister, it was my fault. You
have a generous heart, please don’t hold it against me, won’t you?”
I pulled my arm away and waved her off.
“I’m tired. You should go.”
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5
Soon, it was the day of the parade for the top three Royal Scholars.
Just as Isabelle had hoped, Josh arrived at our door with a matchmaker to propose.
He bowed deeply to my father, the Duke, and stated his purpose with reverence.
“Your Grace, Lady Isabelle once showed this humble scholar a great kindness with a simple meal. I wish to ask for her hand as my
wife. I pray you will grant my request.”
My father nodded with satisfaction. “Very well. I approve this union.”
Isabelle had been hiding behind a screen in the grand hall, listening in. The moment the match was settled, she ran to find me,
bursting with pride.
“Sister, Josh is truly a man of honor and loyalty! I’m soon to be the wife of the First Royal Scholar! You’ll have to try harder now,
sister.”
I put down my book and looked at her, confused.
“Isabelle, Josh was not named First Royal Scholar this time. I’m afraid that title will not be yours.”
Her pretty face paled. She had assumed my father’s quick approval was due to Josh achieving the highest rank.
“Well then,” she stammered, “I must have been mistaken. It must be the wife of the Second or Third Royal Scholar.”
“Neither, I’m afraid. He was ranked tenth in the final examinations. Still a fine achievement.”
In our past life, with my help, Josh had to do nothing but focus on his studies. This time, without my money, and with the bullying from his wealthy rivals, the frostbite on his hands had never properly healed. Without the bonus points from his flawless, powerful
calligraphy, the rank of Third Royal Scholar was beyond his reach.
