Episode 33

Though it was early summer, the breeze in the hunting grounds kept things cool.

Even the sweat from a quick burst of activity soon dried in the gentle wind.

While the men were off hunting, the ladies picked flowers and prepared beautiful bouquets. At one side, Lady Chloe of the Wood family attempted to sing, but without a piano, her solo came off rather awkward. 

It was a peaceful day.

Logan stood beside Elouise, helping her arrange flowers.

Many noblewomen showed off their skills, but Logan’s bouquet was equally impressive. Though not flashy, it was made of charming white blooms, bound neatly with twine. He handed it to Elouise.

She gasped.

“Logan, is there anything you don’t do well?”

“Arranging flowers in the young master’s room was one of my duties in the capital.”

“What about the maids?”

“I had to prevent the maids who entered from falling for him.”

The more she learned, the more outrageous he became.

Elouise was freshly reminded of how absurd the man she’d fallen for truly was.

In her heart, she had long decided she needed to let go of her feelings for Marcus Hanger. But why, then, did those feelings only grow stronger with every little kindness?

She cradled the bouquet in her hands.

“Thank you. I’ll decorate the bedroom with it—actually, maybe I’ll give it to Juliet…”

She was just musing aloud when a woman approached.

“Good afternoon, Lady Hanger.”

“Oh, good afternoon, Lady Jenkins.”

Lady Jenkins wasn’t someone she was particularly close with. Elouise was a little surprised at her sudden greeting but assumed she was just bored waiting for the hunt to end.

Lady Jenkins had elegantly braided brown hair and was raising one son, around fifteen, and two daughters. She was known for constantly declaring that her son must marry a girl with a substantial dowry.

Understandably so—Lady Jenkins’s pension barely stretched far enough to raise three children.

After greeting Elouise, Lady Jenkins glanced behind her.

Several women were staring eagerly in their direction. It was obvious: they had sent Lady Jenkins to speak with her. Elouise quickly caught on and tilted her head.

“Is something the matter?”

“Well, there’s something I’d like to ask you. Nothing much…”

“Of course, go ahead.”

She smiled lightly, expecting a harmless question—but her face stiffened at what came next.

Lady Jenkins’s words were simple, but they struck a nerve. She claimed to have relatives in Maine and believed they knew Elouise. Was it true that her maiden name was Starwood?

Elouise couldn’t find the words. Lady Jenkins, taking her silence as confirmation, continued eagerly.

“My cousin says there’s only one Starwood barony in Maine. And that the baron had two daughters—one eloped, and the other, though graceful and composed, never married because she waited too long. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

Elouise cast a glance at Logan.

Sensing her discomfort, he took a step back. It wouldn’t be polite for a secretary to intrude in a ladies’ conversation, and it seemed he intended not to listen in either. Elouise stalled by replying with a question.

“Your cousin resides in Maine? It’s a small city… May I ask who—”

But Lady Jenkins cut her off, rudely.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know her. But listen—she insists there’s only one daughter now. The first ran off and later returned, only to die of a fever, leaving her child behind. Apparently, the child’s quite pretty but… a little strange, mentally.”

That was enough. Elouise gazed toward the group of women who had sent Lady Jenkins.

They were watching with the gleeful interest of spectators at a performance. When Elouise met their eyes, they all quickly turned away. She sighed and turned back to Lady Jenkins.

“If you have something to say, please say it plainly, madam.”

“Oh, it’s just one thing: You’re not that woman, right?”

Lady Jenkins gave a smug little smile, proud of herself for exposing someone’s weakness. Elouise didn’t know how to respond—Lady Jenkins was already pressing forward.

“You see, Lady Hanger is such an upstanding person, and your daughter is so well-mannered. But Cliff isn’t that big a town, just like Maine. What if someone like her—a sly woman with a secretive child—pretended to be a noble widow just to lure someone’s son into proposing?”

“…”

“People like me, with sons of marrying age—we worry about these things, you know?”

Elouise gazed up at her. Lady Jenkins stared back, as if she already knew what Elouise would say.

In her—or rather, their—minds, the conclusion was already written:

Elouise Starwood was a spinster who never married, pretending to be a widow, bringing a strange orphan niece to Cliff under false pretenses in search of a match.

Whether Elouise confirmed or denied it didn’t matter. The glint in their eyes said enough. So she made up her mind.

“Lady Jenkins. You clearly needed an answer, or you wouldn’t have come all this way to explain your fears at such length.”

Lady Jenkins tilted her head, surprised at the unexpected tone, but quickly recovered.

“Well, yes! Of course!”

There’s always one person like this in every gathering. Elouise smiled.

“I understand your concern. I’m a mother too, after all. But Lady Jenkins—”

“Yes?”

“If your goal was to humiliate me, why didn’t you just do it outright?”

“…Lady Hanger?”

Elouise straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, instinctively glaring down at the woman. Lady Jenkins sensed something was amiss—but it was already too late.

“You don’t need my answer. You already decided, didn’t you?”

“N-no, I was just…”

Elouise’s voice was cold and firm.

“No. I am not Elouise Starwood.”

“…”

“I am Elouise Hanger.”

Silence fell. All eyes turned to her.

More than their stares, what she noticed most was the gaze she couldn’t see—Logan’s, watching from behind. He, of all people, knew she was lying.

But even so, Elouise looked forward and spoke clearly, carefully.

“My husband is the sole heir of the Hanger family. That much is true. Lady Jenkins, weren’t you and your husband at our wedding just a month ago? And surely not just because he receives a pension from the crown.”

She wielded the only weapon she had: bold, direct lies.

You came to my wedding to eat my cake and now dare to mock me? Even if I am Elouise Starwood, even if I am that scheming woman you say I am—do you think you can insult the wife of Marcus Hanger without consequence?

It worked instantly. Lady Jenkins’s face went pale. Elouise delivered the final blow.

“Let me ask again. Are you still curious about my maiden name?”

“N-no, Lady Hanger. I apologize. I must’ve offended you somehow…”

“Yes. You did.”

She turned and leveled a glare at the entire circle of watching women. Those who met her eyes flinched and looked away. She now understood the strange glances she’d felt in recent days. Word had gotten out from Maine.

“Lady Jenkins. I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish, but you’ve offended me—and you will pay for it.”

It was a blatant threat—far from what noblewomen were expected to say.

But Elouise enunciated every word deliberately. Then she surveyed the crowd once more. No one met her gaze. Lady Jenkins quickly composed herself and retreated.

Elouise turned without a word and strode away. Logan followed behind. Though she heard whispers rising behind her, her mind was only focused on Logan.

Once they’d reached a quiet spot, she turned to him. He met her gaze with his usual impassive face.

“I have a favor.”

“Yes, Madam?”

“Don’t tell Sir Hanger about this.”

Logan didn’t need her to say it—he already knew her name was Elouise Starwood. But she meant something else.

That she wasn’t a widow. That she had never married at all.

Logan didn’t respond. Elouise, pale and nervous, explained softly.

“You work for Marcus Hanger too. You understand, don’t you? Even servants deserve to keep some pride.”

Logan nodded. Elouise muttered almost like a madwoman.

“God, if he finds out I’m a spinster, he’ll laugh at me. I didn’t mean to deceive him from the start. When I met him, it didn’t feel like the right moment to explain I was raising my niece. Especially when I proposed the contract…”

Logan cut her off gently.

“Madam—no, young lady. I won’t say a word.”

“…”

“I understand your position.”

The moment he finished, Elouise collapsed to the ground.

Logan quickly stepped forward.

“Shall I bring the carriage?”

“No… Just give me a moment. Please, just let me be alone.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yes. Please…”

Observing her vacant expression, Logan quietly withdrew.

Which is why he never had the chance to tell her:

That the young master he served would never, ever laugh at her.

---

Marcus was walking through the woods with the Duchess of Bellona.

He’d never cared for fox hunting to begin with. For some reason, the Duchess had benevolently offered her company today, and Marcus had found himself alone with her far more easily than usual.

But strangely, Marcus found it hard to concentrate on their outing.

Even when surrounded by dozens of noblewomen before, he had always seen only the Duchess of Bellona.

Today, adorned more beautifully than ever, the Duchess revealed her delicate and graceful figure without reserve.

Her high nose, full lips, and elegant jawline flowed into her slender neck. Her sapphire-blue eyes, which usually evaded his, today gazed at him steadily for reasons he couldn’t comprehend.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Pardon? I… Ah. I was thinking about something I left at home.”

“Oh dear, how disappointing. To think you’re with me but lost in other thoughts.”

The Duchess tilted her fan with her usual indifference. Whatever she said, her expression remained blank. The few smiles she ever showed came close to mockery.

And that wasn’t just with Marcus. Most claimed she’d lost her expressions following the Duke's passing. The only exceptions were when she was courting a gentleman—or on his wedding day.

She’d smiled radiantly, like a flower in bloom, in front of Elouise. Though, Elouise insisted even that was a sneer. When Marcus tried to defend the Duchess, Elouise had denied his claims.

Recalling Elouise’s pout made Marcus chuckle involuntarily.

He couldn’t understand why simply thinking of her made laughter bubble up like this. That charming woman brought a strange fullness to his days lately, and every morning had begun with joy. Truly, it was as if he…

“Sir Hanger?”

The Duchess’s voice snapped Marcus from his reverie. Realizing he had drifted off again, he flinched and answered quickly, “Ah, yes.” The Duchess narrowed her eyes.

“Perhaps you should go home for today. I don’t know what it is you forgot, but if it’s enough to distract you like this, we’d both be better off not wasting each other’s time.”

“No, that’s not it. I just…”

“Just?”

She pressed. Marcus furrowed his brow slightly, then shook his head.

“Forgive me. I was rude. It’s nothing. It won’t happen again.”

“Hmm. I imagine you must have been scolded often by your tutor as a child. Or did you attend school?”

“I was taught by a tutor, yes. But why do you ask…?”

The Duchess smiled with her eyes.

“You seem the type who daydreamed constantly during lessons.”

“Ah… Well, not really…” Marcus replied vaguely. It felt odd. Something was off. Had she smiled at him like that before?

It was different from the mocking glances he used to receive. Even those had thrilled him before…

“…You still can’t focus. I was a model student in school—always praised for my attention and diligence.”

“Wait… you attended school?”

Marcus blinked. The Duchess didn’t answer, instead changing the subject.

“Shall I help you concentrate?”

“…Help me concentrate?”

Still dazed, Marcus repeated her words. The Duchess folded her fan and approached, then stumbled as if about to fall, reaching out with a slender, pale arm.

---

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