Episode 21

It didn’t take long to return to the estate.

Logan, quick to notice the lady’s foul mood, summoned Marcus. Upon seeing that Elouise’s dress was soaked, Marcus asked politely,

“May I carry you to the carriage?”

“Can you manage that?”

Elouise replied indifferently, and Marcus offered her his arm with a faint smile. But Elouise soon regretted it—fine sand had stuck all over the wet hem of her gown. As she glanced down at her dress, Marcus asked again if he should help, but she shook her head and stepped into the carriage. Not without first giving her skirt a few firm shakes.

---

Back at the estate, the two of them lay side by side on the wide bed. Logan placed cool gauze soaked in chilled tea water across their sun-warmed faces.

“What happened?” Marcus asked.

“Must be nice to be you,” Elouise muttered.

“What’s nice?”

“The Duchess seems to regret letting you go.”

“Really?”

Marcus shot upright. Logan warned him.

“The gauze is slipping.”

“Who cares about a strip of tea-soaked cloth? Tell me more.”

Before Elouise could respond, Logan cut in firmly.

“The cloth may not matter, but the duchess will be thrilled if your face burns.”

“…Fair point.”

Marcus rolled his eyes, then lay back down. Logan sighed and resumed placing cool gauze over Marcus’s cheeks. Elouise spoke again.

“She asked me if I knew you’d given her the diamond.”

“Wouldn’t it be stranger if you didn’t? Then again, she probably assumed I’d hidden my womanizing past before marrying you.”

“Exactly.”

Marcus chuckled.

“So what did you say?”

“I told her it’s safely in my drawer.”

“…I feel like a bastard.”

Elouise didn’t bother to deny it. Logan remained silent too. Their silence spoke volumes. Marcus muttered again.

“You two really don’t cut me any slack.”

“Is that what you think?” Elouise said coolly.

The sensation of the cold, wet gauze on her skin was soothing. Though she hadn’t spent that much time under the sun, Logan had insisted, “That’s how your skin darkens over time,” and made her lie down.

But internally, she felt stifled.

She found the Duchess of Bellona uncomfortable. And the feeling was likely mutual. For the next four months, she’d be at odds with the duchess. Or rather—at odds with the circles the duchess belonged to.

“In any case, the fallout between the two of you is obvious,” Marcus said. “I suppose it’ll be awkward visiting her tent tomorrow.”

“Congratulations,” Elouise replied dryly.

“Why are you congratulating me?”

“Because the more she hates me, the more likely she is to come after you.”

“Is that how this works?”

Elouise let out a small smile.

“If a woman hears that the husband of the woman she despises is in love with her, she’ll want nothing more than to make that woman cry.”

“Oh.”

“This contract might end sooner than expected. Oh, and one more thing.”

Still staring straight up, not bothering to look at Marcus lying beside her, Elouise added,

“Sorry for kissing your cheek earlier. It must’ve startled you. It wasn’t exactly on purpose... Actually, it was.”

“Right. About that—”

“I won’t do it again.”

Marcus hesitated.

“No, it’s not that you mustn’t. I was the one who asked if I could kiss your cheek in the first place. It’s just…”

“I’ll ask next time, then.”

She cut him off and closed her eyes.

Marcus looked like he wanted to say something more, but Elouise didn’t want to hear it.

The contract might end early after all. If Marcus fell in love quickly—as he claimed—and if that love ended just as quickly, then once he fulfilled whatever it was he wanted, there’d be no need to keep pretending to be his wife.

And yet—despite all that—Elouise someone felt stifled at the thought of the duchess seducing him. The woman was verey smug and arrogant. If she managed to win Marcus over and then boasted to Elouise about stealing him, Elouise wasn’t sure she would feel at ease. Even though it was supposed to be just a business arrangement.

She thought of the dove-gray handkerchief she’d handed off to the maid for cleaning.

Evenia. The name had been delicately embroidered in fine thread. That must’ve been the Duchess of Bellona’s name. It was elegant, exquisitely stitched.

She wanted nothing more than to crumple it into a ball.

This is all that man’s fault, she thought, glancing sideways at Marcus.

To her surprise, Marcus was looking at her too. Their eyes met, and before she could stop herself, she asked,

“What are you looking at?”

“…You were just looking at me too.”

“You were looking first.”

“No, I—”

“Enough, both of you,” Logan cut in sharply. “I’m about to apply a rice-and-wine paste to your faces. If you speak while it’s on, you’ll wrinkle your skin.”

Elouise scrunched her nose and closed her eyes again.

---

Elouise had made a decision.

Trying to do everything at once was the surest way to ruin. She held up one finger to Marcus and declared,

“Since I’m definitely going to earn the Duchess of Bellona’s hatred, we should visit Lord Rependers’ tea table today.”

In other words, if the Duchess came to dislike her, she’d likely try to seduce Marcus just to spite her.

Marcus sat beside her in the carriage on the way to the beach, arms folded, tilting his head as he looked down at her.

“Giving up on finding a marriage match?”

“No.”

“Then?”

Elouise shrugged.

“If the Duchess of Bellona hates me, there’s no chance I’ll secure a good match for Juliet.”

The Duchess was practically the center of the Cliff social scene. When her husband, the Duke of Bellona, was alive, he’d been one of the most prominent figures in the kingdom. Even after his death, her influence in the region remained formidable.

But Elouise didn’t like her—and had no desire to get close.

Any lady friendly with the Duchess would likely avoid Elouise. So she had concluded that her chances of finding Juliet a good marriage were slim. Marcus narrowed his eyes.

“You’re only half right. There are plenty of ladies who despise the Duchess for her history with men.”

“…Ah?”

His explanation was simple. The Duchess had seen a lot of men in the capital—and most of them had been married. Everywhere she passed, divorce papers followed. In Cliff, the more conservative older ladies—including Madam Noskina—couldn’t stand her. They considered her someone who wrecked decent families.

Elouise remembered something from Maine. Madam Visena, who had once served the Queen and mostly complained about Marcus, had referred to the Duchess as “a scoundrel” when she heard Elouise was headed to Cliff. The memory made Elouise chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, just... Do you know how famous you are?”

“Well, I am famous. But El, something about the way you say it doesn’t sound flattering.”

“Are you famous for anything good?”

Elouise laughed brightly. Marcus squinted at her and smiled, then suddenly reached out and adjusted the shawl slipping off her shoulder.

“It keeps falling. You must be cold.”

“I even fastened it with a brooch, but it’s still slipping.”

“Shame it’s spring. If it were winter, I’d buy you a coat instead.”

“If it were winter, I wouldn’t have come to Cliff in the first place.”

Elouise wore a sky-blue poplin dress that day. The design boldly exposed her shoulders and chest, but with her slender frame, she felt she looked too scrawny and had opted for a shawl.

Marcus kept glancing at her shoulder, then gently asked,

“May I adjust it for you?”

“Oh? Do you know how to fix women’s clothing?”

Smiling, Elouise handed him the brooch. Marcus chuckled as he undid her shawl.

“Is there anything I can’t do?”

He gave her chest a brief glance, raising one brow. Elouise braced for a comment but to her surprise, Marcus said nothing. He folded the shawl into a triangle, tied the ends together with practiced hands, and shaped it into a large croissant-style knot, which he wrapped around her shoulders. He tied the ends neatly at the front—it stayed in place without the brooch. Elouise was impressed.

“Wow! I guess the only thing you can’t do is seduce the Duchess of Bellona.”

“That’s an insult, isn’t it?”

“Very perceptive.”

She smiled. She was trying to lift her bad mood from the previous day and was nearly successful. Marcus had a natural talent for brightening a woman’s spirits.

“Still, I’ve decided to find Juliet a tutor.”

“Oh?”

“I thought about it. You can find good marriage matches in Maine, but you can’t find top-level math tutors there.”

“I see.”

“And Juliet needs a little more... academic growth.”

Elouise rested her head lightly against the carriage wall. Marcus said nothing, and she took that as a signal to continue.

---

After removing the rice paste mask made of wine and honey from her face, Elouise went to check on Juliet.

While she and Marcus had been navigating the social battlefield under the guise of honeymoon festivities, Juliet had remained at Madam Noskina’s estate.

Madam Noskina was relatively generous with Juliet. She’d summoned the most discreet and well-behaved maid to keep Juliet company. That girl, Andrea, had likely rejoiced at being pulled from a day of scrubbing floors to play blocks with a child.

But tending to Juliet would have probably proved more difficult than cleaning the entire house. Elouise hurried to help the poor maid. However, when she entered Juliet’s room, she was surprised to see the two getting along quite well.

“You made a lion, miss? It looks terrifying!”

“Cat…”

“Oh! It’s a cat? I’m sorry! I’ve never seen a lion!”

“Lions... are felines. Just big cats.”

“Hmm?”

Behind a puzzled Andrea, Elouise quickly stepped in.

“She means that lions are part of the cat family. So calling it a lion is fine.”

Andrea lit up with relief. Elouise gestured that she could go, but the girl lingered awkwardly.

“Um… may I stay just a little longer with the young miss?”

Elouise quickly understood why. It was near dinnertime—maids had their hands full during prep. If Andrea left now, she’d be thrown into chores for the rest of the evening.

But with cookies and tea in Juliet’s room—and Juliet constantly making a mess—it wouldn’t matter if the room wasn’t spotless. No one would blame Andrea.

I don’t really want anyone overhearing what I talk about with Juliet, Elouise thought.

Still, she didn’t want the girl to resent her charge. And if Andrea was to be Juliet’s playmate, she’d need to learn how to communicate with her anyway.

So Elouise smiled and nodded. Andrea bowed in gratitude and began tidying the room, which was littered with blocks, doodled papers, and open books.

“Juliet, did you have fun? Did you enjoy playing with Andrea?”

Juliet didn’t answer—she just laid down on the floor. In the Starwood estate, Elouise had always allowed Juliet to use her lap as a pillow, so she figured that’s what Juliet wanted now. The silence seemed to mean she didn’t mind the company.

Elouise sat down and let Juliet rest her head on her lap, smiling. Juliet immediately started talking about the book she’d read that day—Toulous language.

“{The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but in truth it circles back around.}”

“You read that?”

“Joshua Cunningham’s Theories of Astronomy.”

“That’s quite a difficult book. But it wasn’t one of yours, was it?”

“Third room from the left.”

She’d gone into someone else’s room. Elouise asked if she’d received permission, and Andrea quickly interjected,

“Madam Noskina said it was okay for the young miss to use the study.”

“Oh, did she? That’s very kind of her.”

Elouise covered her mouth in surprise. Books were expensive, and libraries were usually strictly guarded. Madam Noskina was being unusually generous. Elouise resolved to thank her next time.

She looked down at the papers Juliet had pulled toward her—crude drawings, hard to make out. Elouise squinted.

“What’s this?”

“The ceiling.”

“The ceiling?”

She looked up. Nothing unusual.

Juliet’s ceiling was a typical noble-style design: detailed wooden carvings around the borders, a faded painting, and a small chandelier.

But Juliet’s drawing didn’t match the real ceiling. In fact, the chandelier was in the wrong place. Elouise frowned.

“The chandelier’s in the wrong spot. Why’d you draw it like this?”

“The ceiling is dead.”

“The ceiling is dead?”

Elouise’s eyes widened. Juliet blinked, waiting for her to understand. But Elouise couldn’t. Juliet eventually mumbled fragmented phrases—“ceiling, light, doesn’t reach, dark”—until Elouise pieced it together: Juliet had redrawn the chandelier’s location based on where she thought it should be.

Elouise beamed.

“Oh my, you’re so clever!”

Juliet pouted. She was pleased by the praise but sulky that Elouise hadn’t gotten it immediately. Taking advantage of the moment, Elouise said,

“Julie.”

“…”

“Mommy wants to ask you something.”

Juliet stared up at her with wide, blue eyes. After a pause, Elouise asked carefully,

“What kind of man do you want to meet?”

She knew. Asking Juliet this was like asking a wild rabbit which kind of hay it preferred. A rabbit used to running in open fields had probably never even thought about hay.

But Elouise had to ask. She couldn’t just impose her version of a “good match” on her daughter.

“Meet?” Juliet blinked.

“Yes, like how your mom met your dad. Fell in love. Got married…”

“Marriage. A union where a man and woman come together, build a household, have children, and pass on their lineage.”

Andrea wore a peculiar gaze, but Elouise persisted.

“Right. So what kind of man would you want to marry, raise children with?”

Juliet rolled her eyes thoughtfully, then answered.

“Marcus Hanger.”

Elouise replied calmly.

“No, I mean—not someone you already know. Someone you want to hold hands with. For example…”

“Marcus Hanger.”

Motherhood is harder than I thought.

Elouise, trying to stay composed, looked into her daughter’s eyes and said slowly,

“Of course, Sir Hanger holds your hand sometimes, but that has nothing to do with marriage. I mean, for instance… do you want someone handsome? Or rich?”

“Marcus Hanger?”

Elouise made a decision. Juliet needed an education.

She’d seen too many clueless girls end up with the wrong men.

Knowledge was survival.

What she didn’t realize was that she, too, was one of those clueless girls.

Volume 1 Fin

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