Episode 45

“Elouise?”

Abigail called out to her. Elouise blinked and snapped out of her thoughts. Abigail gave a small smile, her eyes blinking gently.

“You don’t seem to have much of an appetite. Or… are you lost in thought?”

“Ah, sorry, Abigail. I was just… thinking about something else.”

It was lunchtime.

Elouise had sent a message to Marcus and asked the maids to set up the meal in Juliet’s room. The maids opened the terrace doors and laid out a simple yet appetizing spread on the table.

Because of Juliet’s tendency to be easily distracted, they usually kept the terrace closed. But today, once it opened, the child beamed with delight. She barely touched her food, too busy leaning over the terrace railing to peek outside. Even now, she was hanging over the edge, absorbed in the view. Abigail glanced her way and laughed.

“I can see why. There were quite a few people today who wanted to steal Elouise’s lunchtime.”

“Well…”

She nearly replied, “Madam Noskina is my aunt, after all,” but ended up chuckling instead.

It felt silly to seriously respond to Abigail’s teasing. Abigail gave a soft laugh and popped a piece of meat into her mouth.

“I think this every time, but the chef at the Noskina estate is truly talented. Even when I dine with Juliet, I can tell—nothing is ever prepared carelessly.”

“Really… Ah.”

Elouise suddenly remembered what Marcus had said—the rumor about her and Lord Rependers being at odds. If Juliet was indeed the reason that rumor had started, then Elouise owed Abigail an apology.

She paused to find the words, then blurted them out.

“I’m sorry, Abigail.”

At the sudden apology, Abigail blinked wide-eyed. But after hearing the explanation, she gave a knowing look and smiled.

“Shall we have a drink, Elouise?”

“…A drink?”

“I haven’t had one in a while thanks to Juliet, but sometimes you just need a little something. Ah, no need to call the maid. That aperitif over there will do.”

When Elouise began to rise to pull the bell cord, Abigail stopped her and instead grabbed the aperitif bottle resting nearby.

It was a bottle only Elouise had sipped from—Abigail hadn’t touched it. Now she poured herself a glass and took a few sips, while Elouise watched anxiously, wondering if she had truly offended her.

But unexpectedly, Abigail drained her glass and broke into a wide smile.

“It’s true, you know.”

“…What is?”

“That he’s cheating.”

“…What?!”

Elouise yelped before she could stop herself. Abigail blinked at her, and Elouise stammered.

“I-I only heard that you two weren’t on the best terms… that’s all.”

“Oh my, you’ve only heard the polite versions of our story. There’s far more to it.”

Abigail shrugged.

So the rumor Marcus had mentioned—was just the tip of the iceberg. Abigail laughed brightly.

“There was a time I drank anywhere and everywhere. But one day, I went to a tea party—it had been a while—and for some reason, I just didn’t feel like drinking that day. Usually, everyone hands me a wine glass instead of a teacup like it’s second nature. And suddenly, I realized—wow, I’ve truly been living carelessly.”

“…”

“But thanks to Juliet, I’ve learned the joy of ending the day with a clear head. So that day, I chose tea. And once I wasn’t drunk, I started seeing things more clearly.”

Elouise was startled.

Abigail’s point was simple: she’d stayed sober, made conversation, taken a walk. And in a quiet corner of someone’s garden—she saw her husband cheating. With a woman who had always been friendly toward Abigail herself.

“My god, Abigail. I’m so sorry…”

But what truly shocked Elouise was Abigail’s attitude. She spoke as if she had expected it all along, even smiling as she talked. Seeing Elouise’s cautious face, Abigail gave a soft chuckle.

“Don’t look so sorry. Honestly, I didn’t feel much at all.”

“…What?”

“At first, it was shocking. But then, like fog lifting, everything became clearer. I can’t explain it all right now, but—”

She paused, then lifted her spoon and drew a large circle in the air.

“I used to think he occupied this much space in my heart.”

“…”

Then she tapped a small dot within that imaginary circle.

“Turns out, he didn’t even take up that much.”

“Abigail…”

“Once I stopped drinking, my thoughts came together easily. Before, my mind was always a mess. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t sort things out. And I always leaned on my husband to help me organize them. But I realized—I could’ve done it on my own.”

Abigail tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at Juliet. The girl was now seated with her legs dangling through the railings, swinging them freely.

“Perhaps I have Juliet to thank…”

Elouise couldn’t hold back.

“But didn’t you marry your husband because you loved him? Isn’t it sad, even if some of that love remains?”

“Oh, Elouise. You’re so kind.”

Abigail smiled.

“I did love him. And I still respect him. You may not know, but I met him at my university.”

“I know…”

“But I never told you how barbaric the world I found there was, did I?”

It was true. Abigail had shared bits about what she studied, how she silenced arrogant men—but this was the first time she’d used the word barbaric. Elouise blinked. Abigail chuckled.

“I used to think all the gentlemen I met were overly kind and polite. And I thought the rude, cruel men I met in college were just the exception. But I was wrong. When I came home for break, all those polite gentlemen turned their backs on me. It broke my heart.”

“…”

“The only one who still treated me like a lady… was him. He was my respectable mentor and my kind lover. I still respect him for being able to be that person to me back then.”

Her words were blunt, but Elouise understood. Abigail spoke messily, like someone digging through old memories. But her tone was tinged with fondness. She gave a faint smile.

“But I was too late in realizing—he was barbaric too. I guess the last thing he taught me was that barbarism comes in many forms.”

“…”

Elouise had heard that when women criticize their husbands, they often describe it as feeling like “a layer of skin peeling from the eyes.” Abigail’s words—though abstract—felt like they fit that sentiment. Elouise felt drained.

Up until now, her biggest worry had been whether Marcus might fall out of love.

But watching Abigail, she began to question herself. Would she, one day, look at Marcus with eyes that had been peeled open?

Why is it that he never doubts any of this? Especially when he used to fall out of love so quickly?

Elouise had once believed in the permanence of love.

But now, having fallen in love herself, all she discovered was how full of pitfalls the path was.

She had always held a little admiration—and even envy—for Abigail Rependers. But seeing even someone like her suffer betrayal was disheartening. Men, truly, were not to be trusted. And she wasn’t even sure she could trust herself.

Then Abigail spoke again.

“Elouise, I heard the whole story from Evenia.”

The moment that name—one she didn’t want to hear—escaped Abigail’s lips, Elouise froze. Abigail poured another drink and swirled it lightly, smiling.

“A few days without drinking and I’m already tipsy…”

“Please stop drinking, Abigail.”

Elouise reached out, but Abigail grinned and quickly pulled the glass away. Then she continued.

“I figured Evenia must’ve fumbled with you again, so I interrogated her. And oh, the things she said. She really told me she'd definitely convince you. What a nerve! Isn’t she just the worst?”

“…I don’t want to speak ill of your friend in front of you, Abigail, but—”

“I brought it up first, didn’t I?”

“…Ugh! I truly do dislike her! She's just awful!”

Before Abigail even finished, Elouise burst out, words pouring like a waterfall.

She told her about how Evenia Bellona had shaken her, deceived her, how she felt betrayed. Of course, many things were left out—like her sham marriage to Marcus. She wasn’t sure how much Abigail knew, so she held back.

Still, even with restraint, her rant reached an impressive level. When she finally stopped, Abigail was laughing so hard she held her stomach.

“Elouise! I thought you were such a refined lady!”

And who turned me into this? Your friend, that’s who! she wanted to shout but bit her tongue. Abigail, still smiling, glanced at Juliet before turning back to her.

“Elouise, come with me.”

“…Abigail?”

“Even if she's terrible, wouldn’t it be easier to go if I were with you? Think we could do it together?”

---

Marcus Hanger was, quite unusually, completely out of it.

He had been a little disheartened when his fake wife said she’d be having lunch with their daughter’s tutor today. Still, it was manageable. After all, he had been far too busy during lunch replaying every thought of the woman he loved to let it bother him too much.

Of course, the woman who broke their lunch promise and the woman he adored were one and the same—and so, Marcus slowly chewed his salad while picturing the lovely Elouise Starwood. As is often the case with men after their first experience, Marcus was no exception. The memory of her melting under his touch, her soft tongue, the silkiness of her skin… But what lingered most sweetly in his mind was her sleeping face. That moment—watching her peacefully asleep, utterly spent by his side at dawn—was pure rapture.

Thanks to that, Madam Noskina, who sat across from him during the meal, looked increasingly irritated. She had called him three times now with no response and gave up, turning instead to his secretary.

“Logan. What on earth is wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure myself.”

“He looks like he’s lost his soul... Then again, when has that boy not looked like an idiot?”

Logan kept his mouth shut. Madam Noskina recognized the silence as an implicit agreement, and her expression grew colder. But her foul mood wasn’t just because of her nephew’s current dazed state. She had something to ask her nephew and his wife.

She too had finally heard about that girl from Maine yesterday afternoon.

Thankfully for Elouise, however, Madam Noskina was a cautious woman—and she knew full well her friend from Dublin had a tendency to exaggerate. So this morning, she had sent a second letter to double-check the claim, and had only just received the reply.

She had intended to summon the couple for lunch afterward, but the niece-in-law was absent—thanks to none other than Lady Rependers, whom Madam Noskina did not care for.

Though recently, she had begun to reassess Abigail Rependers. Surprisingly, the woman, who was usually a drunken mess, had started acting almost clearheaded after frequenting the Noskina estate.

Madam Noskina was amazed that such dull, glazed eyes could suddenly appear so sharp and alert.

Still, for her to show up precisely when she was about to get to the bottom of something? That only reaffirmed her distaste for Abigail Rependers. Ever since her foolish, proud nephew had arrived at the estate, not a single thing had gone her way.

Madam Noskina considered asking her nephew directly about the girl from Maine, but dismissed the thought. The story—just from what little she’d heard—was far too bizarre and troubling.

She knew very well how easily a tale like that, once told without the person in question present, could spark damaging rumors. She herself had endured countless ridiculous stories when she first married into the Cliff family.

So no matter what her niece-in-law’s status might be, Madam Noskina would not speak of her in her absence.

And yet…

Madam Noskina stabbed a leaf of lettuce with her fork and glanced toward her nephew—who had now misbitten his fork and was grimacing in pain.

He didn’t look like someone who had handled things wisely.

She couldn’t help but wonder why her brother was so convinced this fool of a boy could lead the Hanger family to new heights. Especially when, even after biting his tongue, he just kept smiling like an idiot!

Madam Noskina carefully entertained the possibility that Marcus might not know about the girl from Maine.

It was entirely plausible.

In the end, she decided to question her niece-in-law privately first.

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