Episode 27

There was a small island in the center of the lake. Everyone decided to have lunch there and boarded small boats. The servants rolled up their pants and carried the ladies into the water to help them aboard. The gentlemen took off their shoes, rolled up their trousers, and boarded the boats one by one. There were only two boats, and the number of passengers barely fit.

When there was only one spot left on the boat carrying the Duchess of Bellona, Elouise quickly pushed Marcus in that direction. He clumsily splashed into the water, grabbed onto the edge of the boat, and looked back at her with bewildered eyes. Standing on the lakeshore, Elouise wore a triumphant smile, as if to say, “Aren’t I clever?”

“I’ll ride the other boat with Logan. You ride that one. That is your punishment for teasing me earlier.”

She spoke it loud enough for everyone to hear, prompting chuckles and whispers about how affectionate the couple seemed. Marcus furrowed his brow slightly, then smiled.

“All right. Let us experience a brief parting in the midst of love. After a taste of separation, our bond will grow even stronger.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

While they exchanged remarks, Logan removed his shoes and rolled up his trousers. Elouise swiftly took the parasol from his hand and slung it over her shoulder, then picked up his shoes. Before Marcus could even say, “Wait—”, Logan lifted Elouise into his arms. Cradled by Logan, she waved back at Marcus.

“See you soon, darling!”

“…Hmm.”

Marcus let out a low groan as Logan, without a hint of emotion on his face, carried Elouise into the other boat. Marcus’s expression soured. If one of the women on the duchess’s boat hadn’t called out to him, he might have kept hesitating for a while. With a hand pressed to his perpetually furrowed brow, he boarded the boat.

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It took about the time to enjoy a cup of tea to reach the small island in the middle of the lake. Elouise expressed her thanks to Logan and sat on the railing. Since the boat was for leisure, the railing was low, allowing for easy comfort. She perched on it, parasol in hand, gazing out at the lake. The wide-open waters were calm. The gentle ripples trailing behind the boat made a peaceful sound.

Today is a day to be thankful for everything.

As the breeze tickled her cheeks, Elouise reflected. The wind blew softly, and birds flew through the woods bordering the lake. The scenery was beautiful, filled with laughter and the chattering voices of ladies. She gently closed her eyes.

I’m so glad I came to Cliff.

Had she ever felt this much peace in her life? No—never.

She had minor worries, of course, but nothing serious. A little more than two months remained before they were to leave Cliff. Once that time passed, so would those worries. And after that, a large sum of money would be in her hands! Elouise smiled as she opened her eyes.

Just then, her gaze met the Duchess of Bellona’s, who stood on the passing boat. The duchess, with her piercing sapphire eyes, stared at her blankly from across the water.

Though they were a good distance apart, Elouise could tell she was being watched.

Next to the duchess stood Marcus, smiling. He seemed to have been chatting with the duchess but followed her gaze and soon locked eyes with Elouise.

And in that moment, Elouise felt a tightness surge up from somewhere below her navel.

I'm a little annoyed by this...?

It was strange. She’d seen Marcus with the duchess plenty of times before. So why was it bothering her now? Was it just because she didn’t like the duchess?

As she pondered, Marcus waved with a smile from the other boat. Reflexively, Elouise waved back with her left hand—the one not holding the parasol.

In that moment, the sunlight reflected off her wedding ring and sparkled.

A soft blush-pink hue beneath the sunlight. And the moment she saw that fragile color, she realized what the odd emotion swirling inside her was.

Jealousy.

Elouise Starwood had long known that she harbored the emotion called jealousy. It was a monster that reared its head uninvited and twisted her insides.

She first felt it when the nanny who once cared for her started working for another household after her father disappeared.

It was the first jealousy of her life. She had wanted so badly to pinch the little boy holding the nanny’s hand. It was her sister Louise who first explained to her what that feeling was.

She’d felt jealousy countless times since then, but the next most vivid memory came in her twenties. One day, while admiring a stunning jacquard dress displayed in a shop window in Maine, she had wistfully thought, “I want that.”

Then one of her students arrived to class wearing it.

Elouise had imagined how she’d cherish that dress—wearing it on special occasions and taking good care of it. But the student ruined it in a single day, ripping the hem as she ran around carelessly.

Each time jealousy flared, Elouise tried her hardest to suppress it.

It wasn’t an emotion she could afford to let others see. It would make her seem petty and low. She had seen too many noblewomen become vulgar when driven by jealousy. She had vowed to herself never to be like them.

At least those women had the excuse of love for their husbands. Elouise’s jealousies were small, trivial, materialistic. If people saw that side of her, what would they think of her?

Marcus had once said she cared too much about appearances. Of course she did. Managing how others saw her was the very basis of her life.

Especially now.

Elouise slowly lowered her wavering hand. She could see Marcus chatting with the duchess again.

To calm herself, she began retracing the reason she had fallen into this jealous state. It wasn’t hard to figure out.

It was because of that man. Marcus Hanger!

Unconsciously, Elouise clenched her parasol.

Let's stay calm.

She had been sharing a room with him for over a month now. That was more than enough time for even ordinary people to grow close. And Marcus Hanger—he was witty, charming, and handsome. It was only natural she would become attracted to him.

Who wouldn’t like a man like that? She had even thought it herself once, idly staring at him. She was no exception. Elouise pressed her hand to her mouth, afraid she might say something terrible aloud.

Logan, seated beside her, looked over with concern.

“Are you all right, madam? Do you feel seasick…?”

“No, Logan. I’m fine.”

“Oh my, oh my—”

A noblewoman sitting on her other side, who had been enjoying the moment, suddenly gasped in alarm.

“Could it be good news? Oh my!”

Good news? Elouise widened her eyes, unable to comprehend what the woman meant.

But soon she realized: to others, her gesture of covering her mouth might appear like morning sickness. She had seen pregnant women do that many times before.

Still... good news? With him, the one and only Marcus Hanger?

She nearly laughed aloud.

"It's not that. I just feel a bit seasick..."

"Oh, now don’t be so quick to dismiss it! Morning sickness can come very early on, you know. Say, you—yes, you—don't you have a scented handkerchief or something for the lady?"

Logan appeared visibly troubled. Of course, he hadn’t packed anything like a scented handkerchief.

Neither Marcus nor Elouise were the fussy type—if their hands got a bit dirty, they wouldn’t throw a fit about it—and Logan, being practical, didn’t anticipate needing such things. He also knew for certain that morning sickness was not a possibility in Elouise’s case. Still, the noblewoman began scolding him regardless.

"How can you attend a lady and not carry even a single handkerchief?"

"I'm terribly sorry, madam. It's not what you think..."

Elouise stepped in quickly to defend Logan, though the noblewoman merely shook her head, unconvinced.

"I keep saying it—Lady Hanger is truly a lovely woman. But still, morning sickness is no joke! And for you to not even consider the possibility while serving a newlywed couple..."

"Of course that—"

Elouise stopped herself mid-sentence. Of course I wouldn't have morning sickness! was what she’d almost blurted out.

She couldn’t afford even the slightest suggestion that their marriage was merely a contract. So instead, she quickly clutched her stomach and faked a retch. It was better to pretend and explain it away later as motion sickness than to risk exposing the truth.

As a result, the noblewoman fussed over her even more, and by the time the boat reached the island, everyone aboard had become convinced that Elouise was experiencing morning sickness. Elouise, face burning, thought grimly:

I want to die.

Morning sickness? Me?! A virgin pretending to be nauseous—what am I doing?!

Logan leaned in with a pale, apologetic face and whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

“…No, I’m the one who should apologize…”

Elouise could barely keep her composure, trying to maintain the charade throughout the rest of the boat ride. Ironically, the act of pretending to be sick was making her feel genuinely ill.

At last, the boat reached the island and everyone began to prepare to disembark. The noblewoman beside her suddenly stood and rushed to the edge of the boat, calling out loudly to Marcus, who was just stepping off the first boat.

"Sir Hanger! Sir Hanger! Quickly, come here! Your wife’s not feeling well!"

Marcus, blinking cluelessly, was about to reply when he registered the words and immediately leapt from the boat and rushed toward them. The noblewoman clapped with joy as he approached.

"How wonderful! Your wife might be pregnant!"

Marcus froze, stunned.

“…What?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised! Lady Hanger was retching the entire boat ride! It might be motion sickness, sure—but I’ve had three children. I know the signs! It’s definitely morning sickness!”

His eyes widened in disbelief as he turned to Elouise, who sat slumped in embarrassment. She gave him a silent pleading look:

I’ll explain everything later.

"What are you doing, Sir Hanger? Go help your wife already!" the noblewoman scolded again, clearly oblivious to the situation.

Marcus blinked a few more times, still processing, but eventually caught on. His lips curved upward—at first faintly, then into a wide grin. It wasn’t a happy grin—it was the kind you wear when something is so absurd you can’t help but laugh. The others, of course, mistook it as the joyful smile of a soon-to-be father.

Naturally, the surrounding ladies and gentlemen stepped back to give them room, allowing Elouise to disembark first. It was almost too much to bear.

“Oh, Sir Hanger, you must be thrilled!”

“Oh, it’s such a wonderful time, isn’t it? Go ahead, Elouise—into your husband’s arms! Early pregnancy is delicate, after all!”

Elouise’s face turned a deep red. Damn it, damn it all…

I really want to die. If I jumped into the lake right now, I’d just get my dress wet and nothing more...

She glanced at the water beside the boat. The depth wasn’t even enough to drown in. Maybe enough to splash a little.

With the hue of a boiled beetroot on her face, she let out a long sigh and stepped toward the edge. Marcus stood there grinning broadly, arms wide open.

“Come here, my dearest wife.”

Should I just kick him right now?

Elouise felt the sudden urge to give him a swift kick—but ultimately restrained herself. The smartest course was to quietly accept his help and later claim it was just seasickness.

So she bent her knees, extended her arms, and wrapped them around his neck. Marcus swiftly wrapped one arm behind her back and the other under her knees, lifting her easily.

Splash. The soft sound of rippling water echoed beneath them.

“Good heavens, pregnant already?”

His voice teased her from above. Normally, she would’ve given him a sharp retort. But this time, she said nothing—because the moment he lifted her, she realized she had not yet come to terms with her own feelings from the boat.

Oh no.

Her cheeks flushed even deeper.

Marcus tried to look at her face, but she tightened her arms around his neck, hiding it.

And as if that weren’t enough, the fact that she was clinging to him so tightly—hugging him willingly—made her heart beat even faster. She had embraced him under various excuses perhaps five or six times now, but this moment felt utterly different.

“Elouise?”

“…Don’t talk to me.”

“Hm? Elouise, are you really feeling unwell?”

She buried her face against his shoulder—only to recoil immediately, overwhelmed by the masculine scent emanating from him: warm skin, the faint tang of soap, the lingering orange blossom perfume the maids used at the Noskina estate… and the musk of sweat from the summer heat. It was dizzying.

He grew serious at her uncharacteristic silence.

“Just hold on a little longer,” he murmured, sloshing through the shallows toward the shaded area of the island where carpets had been laid out for lunch.

As he walked, Elouise, still cradled in his arms, looked back. Wet footprints followed them across the sand. Guests disembarked with light chatter and laughter.

Then her gaze caught something odd.

Wait a second...

She glanced at the men disembarking barefoot, trousers rolled up. Then she craned her neck to look at Marcus’s legs.

His pants were completely soaked.

Because… he hadn’t rolled them up.

And his polished leather shoes—painstakingly cleaned by a maid that very morning—were now soaked through.

Her eyes went wide as she realized what had happened.

“Sir Hanger! Sir Hanger! Your wife’s not feeling well!”

He had jumped in the water the moment he heard those words. Without a second thought. No time to roll his pants. No time to take off his shoes. He had simply plunged in and rushed to her.

Elouise felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Who wouldn’t fall for a man like this?

Marcus Hanger was, in every way, the perfect man.

Except for two things: his tendency to fall in love too easily... and the fact that he didn’t love her.

No one in the world knew that truth better than Elouise.

She was fully aware that his kindness, his consideration, his care—it wasn’t because he loved her. His warmth was just part of who he was. She had grown used to it, perhaps too used to it.

What am I supposed to do now?

It felt like her world was crumbling.

Thinking about it, Elouise had far too many reasons to fall for him.

It had started with their very first encounter. Even without knowing her, he had shown kindness. And toward Juliet—he had been even gentler. Sure, it had all been part of his greater plan, but still, he'd treated Elouise with nothing but warmth and respect. He had given her everything she could have wanted, all the while certain she would never fall for him.

How could he be so sure?

While Elouise wrestled with her spiraling thoughts, Marcus gently set her down on the carpet laid beneath the shade of a tree. She pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling light-headed—perhaps truly so.

She cracked one eye open, only to shut it quickly again upon meeting his green-eyed gaze filled with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She answered as coolly as she could manage.

“I’m fine. It was just some motion sickness from the boat.”

“Ah, I see…”

Marcus gave a faint smile, then asked, “Shall I fetch you a glass of cold water?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’ll be better if I just sit here for a while.”

“You shouldn’t lie.”

What? Elouise opened her eyes narrowly and gave him a side glance. Marcus leaned in and whispered,

“Our contract says no lies, remember?”

“It says ‘no secrets.’”

“Same difference.”

She wanted to argue that they were absolutely not the same, but the way he was looking at her—with such gentleness—made her feel dizzy again, and she closed her eyes.

This was strange.

Up until today, she had never been this conscious of Marcus before.

Love, to Elouise, had always been a distant and unfamiliar concept. But the moment she realized she might like him, her heart had become like a leaf caught in a storm—tossed and pulled in every direction.

Meanwhile, oblivious to her emotional turmoil, Marcus sat down beside her and gently pulled her into his shoulder.

“Forgive me.”

“What now…”

“Well, who else is going to take care of my wife if not me? Lean on me, just until your nausea passes.”

Elouise wanted to cry all over again.

Having him so close was probably the least effective way to calm down—but at the same time, she didn’t want him to move even an inch away from her.

So she did something rare: she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Marcus flinched, startled by the gesture, and then mumbled softly,

“…Oh dear. You must really be feeling awful. Does it hurt?”

He probably only  said that because she almost never took the initiative to touch him. She nodded, her face pressed into his chest. Around them, people murmured with concern.

“Lady Hanger, are you alright?”

“Oh my, she really must be feeling unwell.”

“Morning sickness is like that, you know! Will you be able to eat, dear?”

Elouise ignored them all, and Marcus silently patted her back.

Logan approached them and asked quietly, “Shall I bring some food?”

Elouise shook her head.

“I’m fine. Marcus, you should go eat…”

“I’m fine too. How can I eat while leaving you like this?”

“You can stay with Logan…”

“Logan has to eat too.”

At that, Elouise shot up, alarmed. “I wasn’t saying Logan should skip his meal!”

“I know. You’re not that cruel.”

Marcus gave a small laugh, but Logan remained as expressionless as ever and lifted a small basket.

“I brought my own lunch.”

“…You really are overly prepared,” Marcus muttered, then affectionately wrapped his arm around Elouise again and told Logan, “Go on. Help with the lunch setup.”

“Yes, sir.”

Logan bowed and walked toward the cluster of ladies and gentlemen.

Elouise, still in Marcus’s arms, looked toward the nearby gathering of nobles. They weren’t far, but for some reason they felt very distant.

Her eyes automatically searched for the duchess. Not seeing her among the group, she turned to the boats—and there, the Duchess of Bellona was just now stepping onto the beach, adjusting her skirts as she did. That elegant curve of her back irritated Elouise for no reason, and she suddenly spoke with a hint of malice,

“Don’t you think the Duchess might not like seeing you fuss over me so much? You two looked awfully friendly on the boat. What were you talking about?”

As she asked, she let her hand slide from his neck down his chest and back to embrace him. It was her own little act of courage, but Marcus didn’t flinch at all. That stung.

If it had been the duchess doing this, he’d have flinched or looked startled—not sat there like a statue.

Elouise looked up at him.

Marcus was looking back at her.

Their eyes met.

His expression surprised her—there was not a trace of a smile. His gaze felt cold, like he was looking straight through her.

She scrunched her nose.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What? No, it’s nothing…”

“What were you talking about with the duchess? Was it… enjoyable?”

When she asked again, Marcus went silent for a moment and turned his eyes toward the duchess.

The woman had joined the others now and was chatting as if nothing had happened. Someone must have told her about Elouise’s supposed morning sickness, because the duchess glanced over with a surprised expression. Her eyes met Elouise’s.

Marcus, still staring at the duchess, murmured:

“…It was nice.”

Oh, was it now. Elouise felt a flash of irritation and lightly knocked her forehead against his chest.

“You’re not telling me anything. That means something really happened, didn’t it?”

“…No.”

“You’re usually such a chatterbox—going on and on for hours about the smallest thing. Now you clam up and get all suspicious. What’s going on?”

She giggled, trying to lighten the mood. Marcus twitched.

“What now?”

“Well… leaning on me and laughing like that… it tickles.”

He muttered it sheepishly, which only irritated her more. She pulled away and stood up, peeling his arm off her shoulder as well.

“Well, I apologize.”

“…If you’re still unwell, you can keep leaning on me.”

“I’m fine. Really. You can go.”

Her tone was dismissive, and Marcus looked oddly unsure what to do.

“How could I leave someone who’s sick?”

“I said I’m fine. The motion sickness passed a while ago.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good to hear…”

He glanced at her face, checking her complexion. She frowned a little, then gave a crooked smile.

“Anyone watching would really think I’m pregnant, seeing how worried you are.”

“…Yeah, that was kind of funny.”

When she smiled, Marcus finally looked relieved. Elouise tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed.

“Who would’ve thought they’d start talking about morning sickness out of nowhere?”

“Well, I suppose it’s a common thing for newlyweds. Shall I really go get you that glass of water now?”

“No, let’s just go eat.”

She stood up cautiously, and Marcus quickly helped her. As she rose, her eyes landed on his trousers—still soaked through. She crouched back down and gently brushed at them, knowing full well it wouldn’t help.

“Oh no… You’re going to be uncomfortable all day.”

“Well, it just shows how much I…”

She looked up at him—and saw that he had stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowed deeply.

“Marcus?”

At her voice, he jolted as if snapping out of deep thought.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Ah… Nothing. Just… People will probably believe it again, you know. That I love you terribly. That forgetting my wedding ring was just an accident.”

“What if the duchess believes that too?”

He grinned at that.

“That’s the perfect moment to strike—when her guard is down. I’ll sweep in and declare that I still love her.”

Truly, this man was impossible.

Elouise snorted in disbelief. Marcus offered his hand, and she took it.

As she stood, one bitter thought echoed in her mind.

You heard it, didn’t you?

He still loves the duchess.

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