Episode 40

When Elouise returned after putting Juliet to bed, she found Marcus tangled up with a ball of pink yarn. She let out a small laugh.

“You still haven’t given up on that?”

“I may be quick to give up on many things, but I’ll never give up on anything that has to do with you.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Funny—you look ready to give up.”

What Marcus had knitted was no bigger than the palm of his hand.

The stitches, though now a bit more even, still showed no real improvement in skill. Below his hands, the yarn ball was a tragic mess, hopelessly knotted and sprawled across the floor. Marcus spoke defensively.

“I was knitting so hard the yarn got all tangled…”

“Give it here.”

With smooth, practiced motions, Elouise plucked the yarn from his hands and wound it back into a neat ball. While she was at it, she also fixed the twisted stitches. Marcus, watching her with fascination, leaned in and kissed her on the nose. That too, flowed as naturally as water.

“What was that for?”

“It’s amazing. You make difficult things look so easy.”

“You think this is difficult?”

“Of course!”

Marcus pulled her into his arms. Elouise, still holding the knitting needles, panicked and set them aside.

She was worried he might get poked, but he clearly didn’t care. Holding her close, Marcus whispered,

“Just like that yarn, my restless heart was all tangled until you came along and smoothed it out. You truly amaze me, Elouise.”

“Ha…ha….”

“My father will probably scold me when he reads the letter, but honestly, I don’t even care. El, I just want you to become my wife already.”

Elouise snorted and gently pushed him away, walking to the wardrobe to retrieve her nightgown.

While she changed behind the screen, Marcus guided her to sit down softly, then began expertly undoing the bun in her hair.

Removing the small pins and then the large ornamental clip without tugging a single strand, Marcus’s hands moved deftly. Watching his reflection in the mirror, Elouise teased him with a smirk.

“You’re awfully skilled at helping a lady get ready for bed.”

“I know what you’re thinking, El.”

While brushing her hair, he lifted a lock and kissed it, then smiled at her through the mirror.

“When I was young, brushing my sick mother’s hair was my job. She made it a routine so she could spend more time with me.”

“Your mother was ill?”

“Yes. She suffered from chronic migraines.”

Elouise didn’t press further. Marcus continued brushing her hair with practiced ease.

As soon as he was finished, Elouise began braiding it herself. Meanwhile, Marcus changed clothes and went to sit by the window, dropping an orange peel into his brandy. It had become a familiar rhythm between them.

They sat side by side on the sofa, each holding a glass of brandy. Through the wide windows, the night sky stretched dark and studded with stars.

“By the way, I heard something odd.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

Marcus shrugged.

“Apparently, there are rumors that the Rependers couple isn’t doing well. Not surprising, I suppose. Lady Rependers comes here every day to spend time with Juliet, and so Lord Rependers ends up going to most social gatherings alone. That’s bound to start some gossip.”

“Oh dear…”

Elouise covered her mouth.

“Then it’s our fault Lord Rependers is getting dragged into this.”

“This afternoon, actually, one of my aunt’s friends sent a messenger, and it seems word of this came through them. My aunt responded by saying that Lady Rependers visits often because she’s helping us with something important.”

Madam Noskina clearly knew about Abigail’s frequent visits to the estate.

She hadn’t said much about it—but Elouise was well aware her approval was far from certain. Considering how Abigail had behaved at parties when drunk, it was only natural.

“Do you think your aunt is angry?”

“Why would she be?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious she doesn’t like Abigail very much…”

“Ah.”

Marcus chuckled, tilting his brandy glass.

“She might not, but if she were really upset, she wouldn’t stay quiet about it. My aunt never holds back when it comes to things she truly dislikes.”

“Maybe…”

“If she really didn’t like you, she would’ve kicked me out of the house first.”

For a while, Marcus rambled about the quiet warmth hidden behind Madam Noskina's stern exterior.

He said she hadn’t been a particularly cheerful girl, even in her youth. Tied to the expectations of nobility, she wasn’t the type to express affection easily. But that hidden warmth—only those who had been close to her for a long time could understand it.

“That’s why I’ve been hanging around Cliff for months without getting thrown out! Any other relative would’ve sent me packing back to the capital ages ago!”

“How awful…”

Elouise chuckled at his dramatics.

“If the Viscount had still been alive, he might’ve done just that. I hear he loved your aunt dearly—he probably would’ve smacked you upside the head and tossed you out for stressing her.”

“Oh, he was definitely that kind of man.”

Until her glass was empty, Elouise listened to Marcus share stories of the Noskina couple’s romance.

Though the Viscount was wealthy, he had proposed to a commoner’s daughter. Even the King, who had favored that family’s young man, summoned the Viscount to ask if he was serious. Marcus smiled with a soft squint of his eyes.

“Of course, a decade after they married, no one doubted how deeply they loved each other.”

It was a beautiful story. Elouise leaned her chin into her palm and looked around the master bedroom again. She could feel the Viscount’s love in the way the room had been designed—wider than any in the family’s history, just so he could share a bedroom with his wife.

Everything from the ceiling’s finish to the paintings and tiny ornaments scattered about were luxurious and thoughtful.

Maybe that’s why she couldn’t bring herself to dislike the sharp-tongued old woman who had scolded her all through dinner—because she clearly cherished her nephew.

“What about you, El?”

“Hm?”

Marcus leaned closer and smiled.

“I told you before—I want to hear your story.”

“My story…?”

“What was your ex-husband like? How did you two meet…?”

Elouise’s face froze. Marcus, watching her, immediately panicked and backtracked.

“No—I didn’t mean to upset you. If your previous marriage is something painful you’d rather not revisit, you don’t have to say a word. That was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry.”

“…It’s not that.”

Elouise carefully set her glass down. Marcus let out a breath.

“I was out of line, wasn’t I?”

“Well, it’s not like that’s new for you.”

“How cruel! And the worst part is, I can’t deny it.”

They both laughed softly. Elouise leaned back against the couch. The painted ceiling above her caught her eye. Marcus gently cradled her head and let it rest against his shoulder as he whispered,

“You don’t have to tell me anything. But now that I think about it, perhaps that’s why you pushed me toward the Duchess that day—you didn’t wish to talk about your past.”

“You’re right.”

Truthfully, she hadn’t known what to say. Resting her head on his shoulder, Elouise stared at the candle flickering on the wall. The whale oil flame burned calmly.

“While I was writing to my father today, I realized something. I know so little about you. Just that you came from Maine, and that you’re a noble’s daughter who’s fallen on hard times.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s why I wanted to hear your story. Not just about your ex-husband—though, I admit, I asked out of jealousy.”

Marcus stroked the side of her temple. The touch was both ticklish and soothing, and Elouise closed her eyes as he continued.

“The El I know is calm, but also full of surprises. I used to think you’d always look at my antics with cold disapproval, but sometimes you join in, and it makes me wonder—what were you like as a girl?”

“…”

“You’re three years older than me, but sometimes you seem three—or thirteen—years younger. Innocent. I can’t help imagining what you were like when you first got married, or what made you happy, what made you sad…”

He leaned his forehead against hers and whispered,

“What kind of place did you grow up in? Your family must have loved you. Someone as lovely as you… I regret not meeting you sooner, El. But I’m so grateful I met you now.”

“Marcus…”

“You’re an expert knitter now, but there must’ve been a first time. Were you clumsy back then? Or did you knit beautifully from the start, like you were born for it?”

Elouise couldn’t help but laugh.

“No one’s born knowing how to knit…”

“But, Elouise.”

Marcus looked at her seriously.

“These past few days, I’ve had this strange feeling. Like I was born to love you.”

“Oh, come on. How many people have you said that to?”

Elouise snorted, and Marcus looked genuinely offended.

“I swear—you’re the first.”

“You don’t think it’s unfair of me to say this, do you?”

“No, not at all. Actually, El… maybe you were born to punish me. My father, my aunt, my sister—they all prayed someone would come along and put me in my place. And now, here you are. Even your scolding feels sweet.”

He kissed her cheek. Elouise’s eyelashes trembled. She couldn’t look at him.

All she could think about was running away. What would he say, if he knew that?

“Has no one told you about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know… perhaps Lord Rependers? Or anyone from the tea parties. I doubt anyone has good things to say. If you heard what they think of me, maybe you’d come to your senses. Maybe your feelings for me would fade.”

She tested the waters, watching him closely. He hadn’t left the estate today—he likely hadn’t heard anything.

But maybe his aunt’s friend had brought news?

Contrary to her fears, Marcus only furrowed his brows in sympathy.

“El. I know what you’re afraid of. You still think I’ll fall out of love with you someday, don’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

“I swear before God, El. And believe me—I’ve never sworn about love to God before.”

“Of course you haven’t.”

Elouise chuckled faintly, but Marcus pressed on.

“If I could, I’d pull out my heart and show you. I truly love you. Long after your fears fade, and all the way to the end—I’ll still love you.”

“Marcus, can I ask something?”

She whispered softly.

“Could it be… that the moment the Duchess collapsed, you were so shaken, you just clung to the next love you found?”

“Elouise. Elouise. You’re cruel.”

Marcus shook his head slowly. Elouise glanced up at him.

“But when I think of all the women you’ve made cry, don’t you think my doubts are…fair?”

“I’ve got no defense.”

He smiled gently and kissed her cheek again. Elouise instantly scowled.

“You—really.”

“But El. I don’t even know how to explain what I feel right now.”

With his face just a hand’s breadth away, he softened his expression and looked at her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

And, much to Elouise’s dismay—his strategy worked alarmingly well.

There was a reason this man had made so many women cry.

A face that turned heads when he walked into a room—clean-cut features, a sharp nose, a strong jaw, kind eyes beneath sculpted brows.

Looking up at that heartbreakingly handsome face trying to act pitiful—Elouise’s pulse skyrocketed.

“You know, don’t you? I don’t lie. Even when I met those other women, I never once said this was a first. But with you—this feeling really is new. I know I’ve been terrible in the past. Honestly, when you don’t believe me, I feel like all those women are laughing at me now. If I’d known it would end up like this, I wouldn’t have hurt them.”

“Maybe say that to them, not to me?”

“And if I do, will you believe me?”

“…Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Elouise barely managed a reply and lowered her gaze. Even if the man meant it, she would never see it for herself.

But... am I not deciding everything for my own sake?

A small wave of guilt suddenly seized her.

The man before her—just as he said—was not a liar. He might fall into love impulsively, but he never promised eternal devotion to any woman.

In fact, even when he proposed a contract marriage, hadn’t he plainly said his feelings would last no more than three months—four at most?

In short, Marcus was a man who could see himself objectively.

If a man like that swore eternal love to her… wasn’t it worth trusting, just once?

No. Don’t do it, Elouise.

But she deliberately smothered the flicker of hope rising in her heart.

She understood exactly why she was wavering. She had only just learned the joy of love—and the thought of leaving now made her cling to it.

But she didn’t want to suffer forever for one moment of weakness.

“But still, Elouise. There’s one thing I want to say. No matter what anyone says about you, my feelings won’t change.”

“…”

“Good opinions? I don’t think I’ve ever received one. Honestly, I’d bet a hundred shings that the first thing you heard when you got off the train in Cliff was someone bad-mouthing me.”

“That’s not true…”

“Well, that’s the idea. In any case, people in Cliff think the worst of me, Elouise. But what about you? You told me you loved me, didn’t you?”

At his words, Elouise’s cheeks flushed. Marcus whispered tenderly.

“What others think doesn’t matter. The Elouise Starwood I see—that’s the real one. Don’t say things like, ‘people won’t like me.’ You’re a woman who deserves to be loved more than anyone in the world.”

His words were impossibly sweet. Elouise, in that moment, felt a sudden, violent emotion.

Why was he being so good to her—when she was about to leave?

It felt like she was the one ruining everything. And yet, she couldn’t stop. She looked into his green eyes for a moment, then sighed.

“…Do you really think that?”

“I could say it a hundred times. A thousand.”

As he spoke, Marcus laced his right hand through her left.

His hand was broad, warm, with knotted joints. Elouise looked down at it quietly. On her left ring finger still glittered the tourmaline ring.

She had chosen the color-shifting stone, thinking of this fickle man—but now, she wondered if she herself wasn’t the most capricious of all. As the gem sparkled under the candlelight, Elouise spoke impulsively.

“Then… kiss me.”

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