Episode 18

When Marcus heard that Madam Noskina invited Elouise to dinner, he said, “What a pity.”

“Why is that?”

“My aunt is someone who’s overly obsessed with aristocratic formality. She believes it proper for family or close companions to share lunch together, while dinner is strictly reserved for guests.”

“Then I’m…”

“Still a guest in her eyes, it seems.”

Marcus smiled faintly. He had expected this from his cautious aunt. After all, when he’d insisted on rushing the wedding, her expression had been one of total disbelief, as though she couldn’t tell whether she was awake or dreaming.

Would something like this hurt her pride?

Marcus glanced at Elouise to check, but she simply raised an eyebrow, showing no real reaction.

“It can’t be helped. Until a week ago, I didn’t even exist in this household. I’m lucky I’m not being treated as an intruder.”

Marcus was pleased.

To maintain the appearance of a “happily married couple” for his aunt’s sake, he spent the entire afternoon in the same room as Elouise, helping her pick an outfit for the dinner. He even tried to match colors with his own attire.

“We’re just dining with your aunt—do we really have to coordinate colors?”

“I like things like this. Wearing matching clothes or jewelry with the woman I love.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s romantic.”

If that is so, then romance is dead.

Elouise was changing into her third dress already.

Third in name only—it took time to button every clasp and lace every ribbon on the back of a dress. Martha, one of Madam Noskina’s most skilled maids, was helping her, but she already appeared exhausted.

Still, Marcus shook his head without hesitation.

“That violet dress suits you very well, but it clashes with my crimson suit. Pass.”

“…”

Martha furrowed her brows. Seeing the look on her face, Elouise sighed.

At least she had received diamonds—but what had poor Martha done to be dragged into this, tiring herself out attending to someone else's whims? Feeling guilty, Elouise gently took Martha’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Martha. It’s fine now—you can go back to your duties.”

A maid’s primary skill was reading the room. Martha quickly realized that the new niece-in-law was about to scold her dear nephew for his nonsense, and she exited swiftly.

Elouise turned toward Marcus, who grumbled,

“Why’d you send her away?”

“Sir Hanger. This is a waste of time. That woman has enough to do just handling your aunt’s requests.”

“And yet, my aunt entrusted her with assisting you, El.”

Marcus tilted his head. Elouise felt a flicker of irritation.

“Just because someone is paid doesn’t mean everything should be acceptable. This kind of pointless…”

“…Pointless, you say? How hurtful, El.”

Marcus placed a hand on his heart with exaggerated sorrow. His handsome face showcased a tinge of melancholy.

“Is it really pointless to match outfits with the woman I love? I don’t think so. If it were, why would so many couples coordinate colors during summer festivals?”

“…We’re not actually in love, are we?”

Elouise sighed, but Marcus rested his chin on his hand and gazed at her intently. Realizing she had said something tactless, she quickly apologized.

“Sorry.”

As someone who’d received diamonds, Elouise knew her job was to act like a convincing bride wherever she went. Saying “we’re not really in love” wasn’t her place. If she couldn’t even go along with something as minor as trying on a dress, what could she complain about?

If this was Marcus’s preference, she’d follow it. That was their agreement.

“It’s fine. A quick apology is one of society’s greatest virtues, after all.”

Marcus smiled softly as he spoke. So that’s why he always apologized so fast… Elouise hesitated, then added,

“But… I really hate inconveniencing others. I could try on twenty dresses if you wanted, but leave Martha alone. She has a dozen other things to do.”

“Then what should we do? I can’t exactly have Logan dress you.”

Marcus shrugged. Elouise sighed again, then spotted a green dress in the wardrobe and pulled it out. It was unique in that it didn’t fasten in the front but laced up from behind.

“I think I can put this one on by myself.”

Seeing it, Marcus snorted.

“I don’t own a green suit.”

Elouise looked at him.

“But your eyes are green.”

“…”

“This is a warm shade, just like your eyes. I think it’ll go well.”

Marcus smiled crookedly. What a master of improvisation she was.

“Alright. Try it on. In the meantime, I’ll pick jewelry to match it.”

That was technically Martha’s job, but she had already left the room. Elouise widened her eyes.

You?

“What’s that look for?”

Marcus gave a wry smile.

“You think I’m clueless, don’t you? Don’t underestimate me. I’ve gifted jewelry to over twenty women. Always the pieces that best matched their dresses. When I couldn’t find the right piece, I had one custom-made. Don’t take me lightly.”

“That doesn’t sound like something to brag about.”

“Let’s see if it’s worth bragging about or not. Now—”

Marcus gently pushed her forehead to guide her behind the dressing partition.

Elouise looked like she had many things to say, but she bit her tongue and disappeared behind the partition. The carved wood screen, engraved with rose vines, had once been gifted to Madam Noskina in her maiden days.

Soon, the rustling of the poplin dress could be heard. The violet poplin crackled sharply with each movement, a sound Marcus found quite pleasing. The green dress was made of glossy taffeta—it would pair beautifully with pearls. As he thought that, Marcus began opening jewelry cases one by one.

“I’m sure I bought pearls at some point…”

“They should be in the second box from the bottom. The one lined in blue velvet…”

Elouise’s voice floated from behind the partition. Marcus opened the blue velvet box just as she said. A pair of round pearl earrings shimmered inside.

“Found them. Are you some kind of genius?”

He heard soft laughter.

“What kind of lady doesn’t know where her jewelry is?”

“Well, my mother didn’t.”

“…Sorry…”

This time Marcus laughed.

“I’m joking. My mother had good reason—our family owns dozens of colored gemstone mines. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had more jewelry than the queen herself.”

That was part of why he had such a keen eye for gems.

It wasn’t just because he’d gifted many women; Marcus had grown up playing with gemstone roughs instead of marbles. His sister’s marriage into the Deveres family had been almost inevitable.

He was a man who knew how to match beautiful gems to their perfect setting. From behind the partition, Elouise peeked out.

“I think I’m done…”

“Come out, then. I’ll fasten the jewelry for you.”

“I can do it myself.”

As she wished.

Marcus handed her the pearl earrings. Elouise clipped them on with practiced ease. The dangling pearls matched the luster of the taffeta dress perfectly—she looked like something from an antique painting. Marcus was impressed.

“You’re making me want to behave indecently.”

“Indecently…?”

“Like whistling at you.”

Elouise squinted and smiled.

“Don’t.”

“Alright. The necklace is here.”

But Elouise struggled with the necklace.

The only one she previously owned had a long chain, easy to slip on and off. This one was a close-fitting choker with a clasp she had never seen before.

Eventually, Marcus stepped in.

“Let me.”

“Please.”

He stepped behind her. The clasp fastened with a round notch that clicked smoothly into place. Once familiar, it was easy enough to manage. Marcus gently encircled her neck and fastened it. A soft click signaled the closure.

“All done?”

“Not quite. May I touch your dress for a moment?”

“My dress?”

“The back laces are twisted.”

The dress had a corset-style back that cinched from the waist up to the nape. Elouise had tied it herself by reaching behind, but hadn’t realized the middle laces were tangled. One of them had popped out between the gaps, twisting the bodice.

“Right here.”

Marcus pressed his palm softly to her back. Elouise flinched.

“Shall I call Martha?”

“No, uh…”

“I’ll just fix it myself.”

Marcus undid the ribbon tied at the nape. Elouise jumped, so he added quickly,

“I’m just tugging the laces. I can’t see a thing.”

Elouise felt a sudden flare of annoyance. What, does he think I’m some delicate virgin? …Well, not that he’s wrong.

“…Even if you could see, I wouldn’t care.”

She lifted her chin and spoke with feigned arrogance. Marcus smiled with narrowed eyes.

“A fine attitude.”

His long, slender fingers moved expertly up her back, tugging the laces into order.

The taffeta fabric was thin and rustled easily—Elouise felt like she could identify which fingers were touching her, just from the sensation.

“Hold on… and… there.”

The fingers, which had been working at one spot, glided upward. Perhaps it was his focus, but Marcus’s warm breath tickled her neck. When he tied a perfect butterfly knot at her collar and stepped back, Elouise finally exhaled.

“All done! Take a look—you look far better than before. The bodice was wrinkling because the laces were twisted.”

Seeing her reflection, Marcus looked pleased. Standing behind her, arm around her shoulders in front of the mirror, he beamed.

“Even if it was improvised, this green does match my eyes perfectly.”

In the mirror stood a beautiful, slender lady adorned with pearl earrings and a matching choker. Marcus leaned in and whispered,

“You’re stunning.”

Elouise had to work very hard to change the subject.

The process had been exhausting, but she managed to extract one key promise from Marcus: that he would find Juliet the best mathematics tutor in all of Cliff. Even if it had been a win snatched from chaos, Elouise was satisfied.

It was a fair price for trying on four dresses.

---

“From now on, you two can dine alone.”

Madam Noskina had tolerated her nephew’s ridiculous behavior—matching outfits with his new bride and putting on a performance at dinner—for only three days.

Marcus replied with exaggerated dismay.

“Oh no, Auntie, why would you say that? I’ve been so enjoying your wise advice on marriage every time we dined together.”

“Do you even remember what the first piece of advice I gave you was?”

Madam Noskina raised her eyebrows. Marcus set down his spoon and answered with a smile.

“‘Don’t act like such a lovesick fool—it makes you look undignified.’ That one, right?”

“And just now, what were you doing with that spoon?”

“Well, I was cooling off the soup for my lovely wife, who can’t handle hot food—Ugh. Auntie.”

Marcus dramatically clutched his chest. Madam Noskina narrowed her eyes as he went on.

“She is my wife. Elouise Starwood is my wife. Can you believe it?”

Elouise debated with herself. Should she tread along with this act or not? But it was already too late to decide. Her face had already turned crimson with a mix of embarrassment, shame, and the urge to smack Marcus across the head.

She was too sensible a person to cheerfully play along with such ridiculousness while blushing like a beet. With a sigh, she muttered,

“…It’s Elouise Hanger now.”

That was her limit. But Marcus, thrilled, raised his spoon high and cried out like he’d just witnessed a miracle.

“Oh! Heavens! To think your beautiful name is now joined with mine—what a dream! Every moment surprises me: that I can call you my wife, that we’re sharing a meal with my aunt, and that I can blow on your hot soup for you!”

“I’m afraid the second one won’t be happening anymore,” Madam Noskina cut in coldly.

Marcus appeared stunned, as though he didn’t understand. She replied with a sharp look.

“I simply cannot tolerate your theatrics anymore. Not that I blame you,” she added, addressing Elouise.

Madam Noskina continued.

“I’m old. Even sitting through dinner takes considerable energy. But you—what should be a one-hour meal turns into two with all your foolishness. I need a doctor’s note before I can keep up with another dinner like that.”

“Don't say that, auntie.”

“And you,” she addressed Elouise, “since the marriage hasn’t been registered yet, you’re still Elouise Starwood. For now.”

It wasn’t just a warning not to get swept up in her nephew’s antics—it carried many implications. Elouise nodded silently, her face growing even redder. She understood perfectly. She, too, was exhausted by three days of Marcus’s over-the-top romantic displays.

He didn’t stop at blowing on the hot food—he’d even chopped up a cream-filled éclair for her so she could digest it with ease.

When asked why, Marcus claimed it as “practice.” Though not incessantly, he wanted to get used to everyday gestures of affection. Elouise had been completely dumbfounded.

“The Cliff Spring Festival starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?” Madam Noskina said. “Just don’t act like this in front of people. I’ve already asked Baelen to set up the gazebo for you on the beach. I’m not going out—the breeze is still too chilly—but I assume you two will want to.”

Baelen was Madam Noskina’s steward. She had arranged for the gazebo to be set up in advance. Many families did the same to prepare for performances, strolls, and tea time during the beach festivities.

But Marcus shook his head.

“We plan to rest quietly this weekend.”

“‘Quietly’?”

Madam Noskina raised an eyebrow. She seemed to want to ask what on earth could be quiet about the man who turned dinner into theater.

“I just want to spend more time with El.”

Marcus grinned as he replied. Elouise’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Really…?”

Marcus suddenly realized—he’d never actually told Elouise his plan beyond residing at Madam Noskina’s house for a while. He hadn’t discussed skipping the festival with her.

Madam Noskina, observing the couple, rose from her seat. Her back hurt too much to sit any longer.

“My nephew’s selfish nature must’ve startled you. Marcus, it’s unthinkable for a young couple in Cliff to skip the Spring Festival.”

“We could join halfway through!”

“Marcus.”

Her voice was firm.

“If you want to make your wife a social outcast in Cliff, then go ahead.”

Most people arrived at Cliff specifically for the Spring Festival. On the first two days, everyone opened their gazebos and mingled freely, introducing themselves and forming new connections. The ladies behaved with striking openness—walking barefoot in the sand, meeting strangers with smiles.

But as the ten-day festival continued, curtains began to close.

By the end, only those who’ve clicked well continued to visit each other’s gazebos. These friendships extended throughout the summer, and groups wuld then host private tea parties. If you were not invited, you could not go.

Marcus snorted.

“But surely no one would dare ignore a couple with both the Hanger name and my aunt’s reputation behind them. That sort of social snubbing only happens to… well, ordinary people.”

“Marcus.”

“The Hanger name is enough to make even the most closed-off people approach, isn’t it?”

Madam Noskina frowned. He wasn’t wrong. Even if the two of them skipped the entire festival and only showed up on the last day, every gazebo would open its curtain for them.

But she hated this attitude of his.

Her brother had built the Hanger family into a success early on. His shrewd business sense and measured loyalty to the Emperor had transformed the family into a major power. He’d also been incredibly lucky.

The problem was Marcus, who grew up under all that success.

His parents had raised both children equally. They believed education was the foundation of good business, and Marcus turned out fine.

Even in places like Cliff, where some people still blinked in disbelief at women studying, Marcus wasn’t that kind of man.

But his relationships… Well.

Madam Noskina often worried about her nephew.

Since marrying into the Noskina family, her already-sensitive temperament had become even more so—thanks to social politics.

She knew human relationships weren’t cut-and-dry or built on convenience alone. The more impulsive and careless a bond, the likelier it was to fail.

Relationships required balance. None could be one-sided. But Marcus treated relationships with a certain indifference. Being the sole heir to the Hanger family, he didn’t have to move an inch—people glided to him incessantly.

So she understood why he spoke as he did.

She also disliked how casually he chose his romantic partners. Sometimes, she wondered if she would’ve turned out like Marcus, had she not met her late husband.

The Viscount Noskina had taught her the joy of love. It was about sharing. It was a strange but beautiful feeling—growing happy by giving something of yourself.

Her nephew didn’t understand love.

Marcus, infamous in the capital for his flings, always pulled away before a relationship got serious—because he was burdened by the responsibility. At best, his lopsided friendships were tolerable, since many who approached him did so for the Hanger name anyway.

But love was different. If you received love, you had to give it in return.

Madam Noskina had long suspected the real reason her nephew’s lovers resented him: Marcus never gave himself fully to love.

Still, now that he was married, she’d held a faint hope—maybe, finally, he’d learned what love was.

But after watching him at dinner for three days, she was convinced.

He was giving Elouise what he thought she wanted, calling it love.

That meant one of two things: either he was intoxicated by his own idea of being in love, or he was putting on a show for others.

The truth was the latter. But Madam Noskina couldn’t believe the heir to the Hanger family would choose an older woman with a child just to keep up appearances.

So she assumed Marcus was simply drunk on the thought of being in love.

And she hated it. Hated it enough to want to smack him.

At the same time, she felt sorry for the woman quietly eating with a flushed face. Elouise had likely come to Cliff with her daughter to build a social network.

Why, of all people, did you meet my idiot nephew!

Perhaps it would be better to end this before they registered the marriage.

There was a reason behind her earlier words: “She’s still Elouise Starwood.”

But she also knew how her words would sound—like the petty spite of a bitter old woman trying to scare her away from the Hanger family.

Still, when Elouise simply nodded without a word of protest, Madam Noskina had to fight the urge to beat her chest in frustration.

Where did this rotten nephew of mine dig up such a good woman? If she were the type to sass back, at least I’d know she’d stand up for herself!

Oblivious to his aunt’s thoughts, Marcus continued smiling. It was Elouise who called him over gently.

“I… think I’d like to go out on the first day.”

“El, you don’t have to—”

“Go.”

Madam Noskina cut him off. Marcus tried to retort, but she glared at him.

“If a woman cries in my house, Marcus, I’ll throw you out naked, even if you are my nephew.”

“What?”

“And I’m sure your secretary would love to help me carry out that task.”

Her tone was final. Marcus deflated slightly.

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