Episode 24

Elouise dragged Marcus down to the beach.

Everyone was walking barefoot on the sand, shaded under their parasols, and the two of them had kicked off their shoes as well.

Most people stayed where the waves couldn’t reach and simply enjoyed the texture of the sand. But Elouise deliberately looped her arm through Marcus’s and waded straight into the surf. The water was still chilly, but she didn’t even have time to wince—she turned to Marcus, who was beaming at her, and snapped.

“Marcus! How could you go and change Juliet’s tutor without talking to me? That wasn’t the deal!”

The deal had been to find the best mathematician in Cliff for Juliet’s tutor.

Could it be he’s worried about paying the tuition? But no—that wasn’t likely.

Among nobles, it was a virtue to pass one’s knowledge to the next generation. Being paid to teach, as Elouise was, was the oddity. That was why she was sometimes dismissed as a money-hungry tutor.

Someone like Lord Rependers, an intellectual of his caliber, probably didn’t even accept tuition. Perhaps he accepted a small courtesy fee, at best. But Marcus only continued smiling. Elouise, gathering her dress in one hand, used the other to thump him on the chest.

“Unbelievable! I saw her completely drunk on the first day, you know! How can someone steeped in drink and gambling be trusted to teach Juliet? And you agreed without even asking me!”

The gambling was just a guess—but Elouise had seen several playing cards scattered across the table that day when Abigail had been drunk. From what she’d learned in noble households, alcohol and gambling often came hand in hand.

Marcus gently took her wrist and tilted the parasol he held toward her, shading her from the sun. But Elouise wasn’t swayed.

“Explain. Now!”

“El, you’re right. Abigail Rependers is immersed in drink and gambling. In fact, I’ve never seen her sober for a full day… until today.”

“Then what? Are you planning to ruin Juliet?”

“No, Elouise.”

A wave lapped gently at their feet. Marcus wiped a splash of seawater from her cheek.

“Can you guess why, even though she gets that drunk in public, Lord Rependers hasn’t divorced her?”

“…What?”

Elouise blinked. It was strange. A woman who regularly embarrassed herself like that in public could very well be divorced.

In noble society, etiquette was far stricter for women than for men. She had assumed the leniency was due to Cliff being a resort town—but maybe not?

Marcus waited for her to think it through, then spoke.

“It’s simple. Without Abigail Rependers, Lord Rependers couldn’t write his books.”

“…Sorry, what?”

The wind tousled Marcus’s neatly parted hair, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Have you heard the name Abigail Taylor? If you’ve been a tutor for a while, you probably have…”

Elouise’s eyes widened. For a second, she was so stunned she nearly said she hadn’t—but she had heard the name.

About ten years ago, Abigail Taylor had become the first—and last—woman to graduate from the kingdom’s largest university in the capital. The only woman to ever do so. She had been a national sensation, a self-proclaimed eccentric from the Taylor family.

Elouise remembered the mixture of surprise, confusion, and envy she’d felt at the time. She hadn’t even dreamed of attending that university—it was exclusively male, and what could she have done there anyway? But Abigail Taylor had studied mathematics and geometry.

“Don’t tell me…”

“Yes. Before she married Lord Rependers, her name was Taylor.”

Elouise dropped the hem of her dress and clutched at her mouth. “Good heavens!”

Marcus, however, was startled for a different reason.

“Your dress is completely soaked, El.”

“It’s fine. Who cares about that? Wait—Abigail Taylor is that woman? But… she was drunk…!”

The last part was almost a scream. Marcus chuckled.

“I’d love to say that being unfazed about soaking your dress in seawater makes you the perfect bold bride for the Hanger family—but I imagine you have other things on your mind?”

“How did you know…?”

“I found out by chance. Actually, there’s a faster way to explain it.”

Marcus glanced at her and held out his hand.

“With your dress drenched like that, walking will be a pain. Might I finally have the honor of carrying you back to the carriage?”

“Whatever—just go!”

Marcus laughed and scooped her up easily. A few steps away, Logan gave him a get over yourself look, but Marcus didn’t care.

---

Marcus carried Elouise to the study in the Noskina estate. Of course, she couldn’t enter a room full of books in her seawater-soaked dress, so she changed into a robe first. Wearing pink slippers adorned with ostrich feathers, she took the books Marcus handed her.

Among them were the same two Abigail had presented earlier—Introduction to Algebra and Surveying Through Mathematics—but there were others as well. All were under Lord Rependers’s name, but some listed Abigail as “assistant.” Marcus tapped a couple of the volumes with his finger. Elouise gave him a questioning look.

“The tone and approach to explaining equations are entirely different.”

“You mean the two you picked out are Abigail’s?”

“What? No.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Those two are the ones he wrote, in my opinion. Arrogant and condescending, just like the way he talks. He spends dozens of pages explaining the simplest equations. Doesn’t seem to care how expensive paper is.”

“He didn’t strike me as the condescending type…”

At her remark, Marcus curled his lips—not the friendly smile he’d shown her earlier, but a sneer.

‘“There should be no problem teaching a fourteen-year-old girl.”’ he quoted. “That's not the kind of thing you say about someone who ghostwrites your masterpieces.”

Elouise remembered that line. He had definitely said it when recommending Abigail as Juliet’s tutor.

Now that she thought about it, it had been oddly insulting… if Marcus was right.

“…Are you sure?”

“Elouise, I used to frequent the royal court without a title. If there’s one thing I’m confident in, it’s recognizing veiled insults dressed in polite language.”

“…"

Elouise glanced at him anew. It was true—Marcus had been quietly dismissed by Cliff’s high society. She had heard the whispers at the wedding, or while walking arm-in-arm with him along the beach. She’d chosen to ignore them until now.

It was a sad kind of confidence he carried.

Marcus continued, unconcerned by her silence.

“The two books Abigail gave you are clearly written by someone who knows how to teach. They’re easy, clear, and accessible—even I can understand them, and I hate studying. She probably chose them because they’re the ones she’s most confident in.”

“I see…”

“How about we read them together this evening? That is, if you haven’t already.”

“I only know the basics of math, but… do you think I could?”

Marcus gave her a dazzling smile.

“Absolutely! These were written for beginners like you.”

---

While Elouise read the book, Marcus was surprisingly eager to help.

He sipped brandy beside her, chatting idly, but whenever she hit a section she didn’t understand, he readily offered explanations.

She had assumed he was just a madman, but apparently, he had actually studied! It was surprising—but then again, he was from the Hanger family. A child raised even moderately well in such a family might ruin the whole house if not guided by someone a hundred times wiser.

Elouise stayed up until dawn reading those books, barely catching any sleep. The texts explained math with simple, easy-to-grasp metaphors. With these, Elouise felt even she could teach higher algebra to her students.

She had only read about half, and already they had given her this much confidence. Puffy-eyed from lack of sleep, struggling through breakfast, she mumbled,

“I really was terribly rude to Abigail…”

“Hm? But we accepted her offer to tutor Juliet, didn’t we?”

“You accepted it. I hesitated. Abigail probably noticed everything I was thinking in that moment. And…”

She stirred her soup with her spoon, then let it fall with a clink.

“Just thinking about it, it was so rude.”

“Well, your suspicions weren’t exactly wrong. She does drink and gamble. You weren’t accusing her falsely.”

“…Why would someone waste such incredible talent like that?”

Marcus rested his chin on his hand and looked at her with a smile.

“I don’t think you’re asking that because you don’t already know.”

“…Didn’t you say they met at university?”

Last night, after forcing Elouise to take a brief break from reading, Marcus had explained briefly how the two had met. He nodded, smiling.

“Yes. Albert Rependers was her professor back when she was still Abigail Taylor.”

“I don’t know if I should say this…”

“Go ahead.”

“He’s completely shameless.”

Elouise sighed. It made sense now, why Abigail couldn’t publish under her own name.

Women publishing books was nearly impossible—except for frivolous novels. Literary elites insisted women lacked the refinement to write them, and intellectuals despised the idea of women even being educated.

Abigail’s accomplishments had all gone to Albert. Elouise recalled the older gentleman’s seemingly kind face. He’d appeared so courteous—but now, she could only see a cunning, self-serving man.

“I know it’s wrong to say about a couple who married for love, but I can’t help wondering if he married her just to exploit her talent…”

Marcus blinked, appearing genuinely surprised.

“Elouise… you’re a very kind person, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, the rumor that Rependers’s books were written by his wife is widespread in academic circles. People just don’t say it aloud. Behind his back, everyone calls him garbage. And yet you say things like ‘I can’t help but wonder’ or call him ‘shameless’? I’m shocked by how polite you are.”

“Well…”

She had nearly retorted that it would be vulgar to speak so openly—but then she remembered how many times she’d mentally called Marcus a madman. She fell silent. Marcus shrugged.

“Of course, for me, having such a kind wife is a blessing.”

“Sure…”

Elouise gave a snort. Then, with sudden worry, she looked up.

“Do you think Abigail will accept my apology?”

Just yesterday, she’d been pounding Marcus’s chest demanding why he let Abigail become Juliet’s tutor—and now she was fretting over an apology. But instead of teasing her, Marcus just smiled.

“She will. You’re honest, and you mean well.”

“…”

“Abigail will understand.”

He stood from his chair, came over, and gave her shoulder a comforting pat. Elouise, still sulking, didn’t notice when he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, already busy thinking of how to apologize.

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