After leaving the Smith estate, the gentle expression on Edmund's face vanished instantly, replaced by deep confusion and irritation.
He strode quickly toward his carriage, where Sir Gareth was waiting.
"Your Grace, you don't look well," Gareth said with concern. "Is Miss Smith alright?"
Edmund paused before replying. "She's fine. The effects of the medicine have worn off."
"Then why do you seem so...?"
"Gareth," Edmund interrupted him. "Do you think that if a woman could foresee the future, she must be..."
"Must be what?"
"Must be mentally unstable?"
Gareth blinked in surprise. "Your Grace... are you referring to Miss Smith?"
Edmund didn't respond. He sank into silence, Emily's words echoing in his mind: "You're my husband five years from now," and "I had a prophetic dream..."
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Would any normal woman say something like that?
"Your Grace," Gareth spoke cautiously, "From what I've observed, Miss Smith may behave... uniquely, but her eyes are clear. She doesn't seem insane."
"Uniquely?" Edmund gave a cold chuckle. "You mean mad."
Gareth was at a loss. He'd noticed his master's attitude toward Miss Smith had shifted dramatically. Just last night, he had cared for her so tenderly—yet now he questioned her sanity.
Meanwhile, Emily was sitting in her room, trying to collect her thoughts. William sat across from her, looking serious.
"Sis, what exactly happened last night?" he asked.
"I don't remember much," Emily replied honestly. "I only remember feeling really hot... and Edmund stayed with me through the night."
"Just stayed with you?" William's voice was tinged with doubt.
"William!" Emily was clearly annoyed. "Do you think I'm that kind of woman?"
"That's not what I meant," William quickly explained. "I'm just worried about your reputation. If word gets out..."
"Let it get out then," Emily shrugged. "It's not like my reputation at court is any good anyway."
William frowned at her indifferent tone. "You can't think like that. You still need to marry someday."
"Marry?" Emily let out a laugh. "William, do you really think anyone would still want to marry me?"
[System Alert: Host, your defeatist attitude is detrimental to mission completion!]
Emily rolled her eyes internally. Her feelings were complicated—on one hand, she was beginning to develop real feelings for Edmund. On the other, she knew her situation in this world was a precarious one.
That afternoon, the court's tea party was held as usual. Emily had originally planned not to attend, but Lady Isabella insisted.
"You can't hide away because of one incident," Isabella said. "The daughters of the Smith family never run away from anything."
Dressed in a light blue gown, Emily arrived at the gathering. As soon as she appeared, whispers began to ripple through the crowd.
"That's her, the crazy one..."
"I heard she spent the night in the Duke's room..."
"She even claimed the Duke is her husband five years from now. Absolute nonsense..."
"Poor Duke, having to deal with a lunatic..."
Emily heard every word, but her expression remained calm. She walked straight to the dessert table, picked up a honey cake, and nibbled at it slowly.
"Miss Smith," Lady Adelaide de Beaumont approached, her tone dripping with mockery, "Did you have a good night?"
"Very well, thank you for your concern," Emily replied politely.
"Really?" Adelaide's voice sharpened. "I heard you said some rather... amusing things to the Duke."
The noblewomen around them perked up, eager for drama.
"If you have something to say, just say it," Emily said, setting down her cake. "I don't have time for riddles."
"Don't you think it's abnormal for a woman to say such things?" Adelaide's voice rose. "Prophetic dreams? A husband from the future? That's the kind of nonsense only madwomen speak!"
The tea party fell silent. Everyone waited for Emily's reaction.
Emily looked at Adelaide and suddenly smiled. "Lady Adelaide, do you know what madness truly is?"
"Of course," Adelaide said smugly. "It's behaving like you."
"No," Emily shook her head. "Real madness is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
The ladies looked at each other, confused. But Emily continued, "For example, chasing after a man who clearly has no interest in you, again and again."
Adelaide's face turned pale. "What are you insinuating?"
"I'm saying, if I'm a madwoman, then what are you?" Emily said calmly. "At least my madness is creative. Yours is just obsessive."
"You—!" Adelaide was too furious to speak.
"And if dreaming makes one mad," Emily added, "then there are an awful lot of madwomen in this world. After all, every young girl dreams of her prince charming, doesn't she?"
Her words elicited a few chuckles. Some of the younger noblewomen even nodded in agreement.
"Besides," Emily said, picking up another piece of cake, "I'd rather be an interesting madwoman than a boring, 'normal' one."
At that moment, Edmund walked into the tea party. He had arrived just in time to hear Emily's last remark, and his face darkened.
She actually admitted to being a madwoman?
Emily noticed his arrival, and their eyes met. His gaze was filled with contempt and disappointment.
[System Alert: Warning! Male lead's affection is decreasing!]
Emily felt a stab in her heart, but outwardly remained composed. She gave Edmund a polite nod and continued eating her cake.
"Your Grace," Adelaide hurried to greet him, "You arrived just in time. Miss Smith just confessed she's a madwoman."
Edmund glanced at Emily, then said coolly, "Did she?"
"Yes," Adelaide said triumphantly. "She said she'd rather be a madwoman than a dull, proper lady."
His eyes locked onto Emily again, and something in his gaze made her flinch.
"Ladies," he said, scanning the room, "I'm only here to clarify that what happened last night was an accident. Miss Smith was under the influence of medicine and not in her right mind. As a gentleman, I had the duty to ensure her safety."
"Then, Your Grace," someone asked, "what do you think of Miss Smith?"
Edmund paused for a moment before replying, "I believe Miss Smith is a... very special woman."
It was a diplomatic answer that satisfied no one, but he clearly wasn't willing to elaborate.
"Your Grace," Adelaide pressed, "don't you think marrying a woman with mental issues would bring endless trouble?"
The implication was obvious: marrying Emily would be a mistake.
Edmund looked at her and replied, "I believe that's something for her future husband to decide."
The meaning was clear—he had no intention of marrying her.
Emily felt another pang in her heart, but she forced herself to remain calm. She placed the cake down and rose gracefully.
"Ladies," she said politely, "Thank you all for your concern. If there's nothing else, I shall take my leave."
She didn't glance at Edmund as she turned to leave.
"Emily," Edmund suddenly called out.
She stopped and looked back at him.
"I hope you will... be more mindful of your words and actions," his tone was cold. "You represent the Smith family, after all."
Emily looked at him, pain flashing in her eyes, but she quickly recovered.
"Thank you for the reminder, Your Grace," she said, curtseying. "I'll keep that in mind."
With that, she turned and left the room.
Edmund watched her go, feeling a strange emptiness in his chest. He told himself this was the right decision. A mentally unstable woman could never be a duchess.
But then why did he feel so... hollow?
When Emily returned home, she rushed straight into her room and threw herself on the bed, finally letting the tears fall.
[System Alert: Host, you can't give up! The mission isn't complete!]
"I know," Emily sobbed, "But it's so hard... He really hates me."
[System Alert: This is only temporary! According to the original plot, he's supposed to fall for you gradually!]
"Original plot?" Emily laughed bitterly. "We're way off the original plot now."
[System Alert: ...That is indeed a problem.]
After crying for a while, Emily calmed herself. She sat up and wiped away her tears.
"Fine," she said to herself, "Since I'm here, I'll live my life the best I can. As for Edmund... if he thinks I'm crazy, let him."
[System Alert: Host, stay strong!]
"I am strong," Emily stood up. "I've decided—if everyone thinks I'm mad, then I'll be the happiest madwoman they've ever seen."
She walked to the window and looked at the sunset.
"Edmund de Montfort," she murmured, "If you think I'm mad... then go ahead and regret it slowly."
And in Montfort Castle, Edmund sat in his study trying to work, but his mind kept drifting.
Emily's words at the tea party echoed again and again:
"I'd rather be an interesting madwoman than a boring, normal one."
Why, he wondered, did she look so... beautiful when she said that?
He shook his head, trying to chase away the thought.
No. He must not be swayed by a madwoman.
But was she really mad?
That question haunted him through the entire night.