Episode 34

Marcus recognized the move. A classic tactic: the artful stumble. Ladies used it when they met an attractive gentleman and sought a connection without seeming too bold.

Feigning a fall to create contact.

Normally, Marcus would have caught her without hesitation. He was known for his quick hands and easy charm, well-versed in the games of courtship.

But today, he was slow. And so, naturally, they both fell into the bushes together.

Apparently even the Duchess hadn’t expected that. She let out a shrill, “Oh!” before Marcus had time to react. He pulled her into his arms and turned to shield her from the impact, taking the fall himself.

There was a soft thud. Dizziness passed, and Marcus opened his eyes.

Startlingly blue eyes met his at close range. Marcus swallowed hard.

He had never seen those beautiful eyes from so near before.

Her curly black hair had fallen free and now lay draped across his chest. Even disheveled, she was impossibly beautiful. Marcus, gazing blankly at the woman atop him, thought just that.

Then he flinched.

For the first time, the Duchess—who had never truly looked at him—was now staring intently, as if waiting for a reaction. Their gazes clashed for a long moment, and in the end, Marcus was the one to look away.

And then he flinched again.

His eyes dropped—only to realize that her pale, sumptuous chest was pressing firmly against him. She’d worn a dress today that left her shoulders and décolletage bare. The sight made him shut his eyes tight.

“Madam… Forgive me. Perhaps you’d like to get up?”

“…Oh my.”

The Duchess, lying gently atop him—there was no other word for it—murmured with small, parted lips. Marcus turned his head to avoid his breath brushing her face, speaking softly.

“My apologies. But if I stand abruptly, you might fall.”

“…Sir Hanger. You’ve become terribly dull since marrying, haven’t you?”

Marcus flushed. He understood what she meant. He looked at her, and she returned his gaze, blinking slowly beneath long lashes.

“How strange…”

“…Shall we get up?”

Marcus asked again. The Duchess muttered a complaint, rolled off him, and sat beside him.

“My dress is a mess…”

As she grumbled, Marcus stood quickly and offered his hand to help her up.

But rather than take it and rise, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. Startled, Marcus lost balance and landed—again—on her.

“!”

“Sir Hanger. There’s no one around.”

She looked at him coolly, almost lazily, yet full of intent.

Marcus had one hand by her hip and the other on her thigh—he flinched and pulled back instantly. And that reflex nearly caused his face to fall straight into her chest.

He caught himself just in time, bracing against the ground instead. While he fumbled, the Duchess gave a languid laugh and spoke again.

“I know you’ve kept hanging around me, even after your marriage. You may act like you love your wife, but you can’t fool me.”

“…That’s not true.”

“Is it not? I don’t think so.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek.

Marcus, stunned, found himself forced to meet her eyes. The face he had once dreamed of was now mere inches away. Evenia Bellona tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Your plan worked. I’m truly interested in you now.”

“…That—”

“Sir Hanger. Your little bird of a wife isn’t here. So go on. Say it.”

“Duchess—”

Marcus groaned, but the Duchess whispered softly into his ear.

“Have you really nothing to say to me…?”

Only now did Marcus begin to truly understand why the cold-hearted Duke of Bellona had defied status and opposition to marry her.

Of course. With a face like this, anyone might lose reason.

Yes—might.

Marcus gathered his thoughts. Evenia Bellona now closed her eyes and leaned her face toward him.

And in the next moment, Marcus pushed her away.

The Duchess let out a startled cry and fell back. Marcus stood swiftly, dusting his hands of dirt.

Then he offered her a freshly cleaned hand.

“Duchess. Shall we get up?”

“…Sir Hanger!”

“It seems I’ve committed a faux pas.”

She tried to pull him down again, but Marcus didn’t fall for it twice. Instead, he gripped her arm and helped her up, effortlessly, with a smile.

The Duchess snorted and rose, adjusting her dress. Marcus crossed his arms and waited patiently.

When she finally turned to face him, her dress not fully cleaned, her expression—despite the clear rejection—remained perfectly blank.

Once again, Marcus found her stunning. And once again… something felt wrong.

Earlier too. Even now. He’d been flustered, yes—but that was all.

No pounding heart. No rush of emotion.

Not long ago, he would have kissed Evenia right there. Or at least held her hand, if respecting her feelings. But today, while he still felt a sense of duty to escort her safely, his heart remained quiet.

“Shall we return? Our horses are tied up just ahead.”

He even knelt and offered his hand to help her mount.

Riding separately with a polite distance between them, they returned to base camp in silence.

Strange. Truly strange…

It couldn’t just be that her interest cooled his. He’d already felt that shift before she even said a word.

Thinking this, Marcus went in search of Logan. Normally helping the servants, Logan was now standing stiffly at the edge of camp. Ladies passed by, casting him icy glances, but Marcus didn’t notice.

“Sir, your clothes… they’re covered in dirt…”

Logan looked up and began to speak, startled, but Marcus interrupted.

“Where’s El? Let’s head home.”

“…It may be best not to see her right now. If you just wait a little—”

“…Why?”

Logan hesitated, then answered.

“It’s not my place to say. So…”

“Forget it. I’ll find her myself.”

With unusual urgency, Marcus brushed past him. He didn’t even bother tidying his clothes as he strode into the woods. He had to find Elouise. Now.

It wasn’t difficult. She hadn’t gone far.

Just as he raised his hand to call her—

“El…”

Sunlight glinted off her cheek. Marcus saw it: a tear.

She was sitting at the forest’s edge, quietly crying. But she sensed him quickly and turned, revealing her tear-streaked blue eyes.

Marcus’s face turned crimson.

In that instant, looking into her eyes, he realized it. He had fallen in love.

Flooded with joy—and panic—Marcus was at a loss. How had he not seen it sooner?

But before he could dwell on it, he ran to her.

Because Elouise was crying.

Her wet eyes trembled as she looked at him, then avoided his gaze.

She tried to flee deeper into the forest, but Marcus hurried after her and caught her arm. Her muslin sleeve crumpled in his grasp.

“El, what’s happened?”

And as he asked, he realized. He was flustered again.

Marcus Hanger had always declared his feelings without caring how others felt. But for the first time, something else mattered more.

Elouise Starwood’s tears.

Never had this happened before.

Whether smiling or frowning, he had always confessed first, consequences second.

He was always honest, never held back.

But now, all he could do was ask why she was crying.

His heart surged wildly. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and made a decision.

The desire to confess and the urge to comfort her fought within him.

He sided with the latter.

His thumb moved gently toward her cheek. When her tears touched his fingertip, he sighed without meaning to.

“Hah…”

He’d wiped many tears before, but none had shaken him like this.

A single cold, clear tear sliding down his thumb—it felt as though his heart might collapse.

How had he missed this feeling?

He asked again.

“El, tell me. Who made you cry?”

What else could make her cry out here? There are always cruel people about.

Even during his brief stay at the Aden estate, Marcus had endured rude questions.

One of the young ladies there had smirked knowingly and asked, “Sir Hanger, how are things with the Duchess of Bellona these days?” He’d just smiled and dodged it.

Idiot!

Marcus cursed himself.

He should have made it clear: he loved his wife.

But it was done. What mattered now was this:

From now on, I must give her my entire soul.

What luck. To discover he loved Elouise Starwood—and already be married to her!

His father had always said he did nothing worthwhile. But this marriage, at least, had been the best choice of his life.

First, though, he had to comfort her.

Marcus leaned in to wipe her other cheek. But Elouise shook her head.

“…I was just sitting alone, and tears came.”

Marcus wanted to click his tongue. That couldn’t be true.

Some women cry for no reason. But Elouise wasn’t that type.

She was poised, self-contained. She wouldn’t weep where others could see.

Yet he hadn’t considered that he might be the cause.

“Hah, El. I’m witnessing a side of you I never knew. And while even this side is beautiful, I don’t wish to see you cry. Would you like a handkerchief?”

“No, I’m fine. Just… Marcus. I want to go home.”

She shook her head. As she tried to compose herself, Marcus fumed inwardly. He wished to tear down the person who made her feel this way.

But for now, he escorted her.

He could learn the reason later. As they walked, she murmured:

“Let’s avoid heading back to the base camp…”

“Of course.”

Returning with red eyes among a crowd would be too cruel.

Marcus called for Logan and asked him to prepare a carriage at the forest’s southern entrance. Logan nodded stiffly and left. Marcus began leading Elouise towards their exit—it was quiet, sunny, perfect for their return.

They walked for a long time.

Just as her tears seemed to dry, Elouise suddenly asked:

“…How was it? With the Duchess?”

Marcus blinked.

“That’s what you want to ask right now?”

“…Of course. It’s my job.”

She looked up at him, incredulous.

Her pale blue eyes—so different from the Duchess’s gleaming sapphires—were like a stormy sea before rain. Marcus felt breathless but managed to speak.

“…You cried. That matters more than the Duchess. I don’t want to see you suffer.”

He meant it. But the timing was awful. Elouise frowned.

Naturally.

“You care that I’m upset? More than the Duchess?”

“…Yes.”

“Do you even know why I’m upset?”

“…Because you cried, clearly…”

Marcus flinched as she stepped back, eyes locked on his.

“Well. I am upset. Very. I’m glad you noticed.”

“…El.”

“We agreed to 120 days. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Marcus panicked. Her eyes were wet again.

“…I wish you’d just fall for the Duchess already. So I could leave this place…”

And with that, Elouise covered her face.

Raw. Honest. Painfully so.

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