Episode 6

The old woman had certainly been well-versed in society. She had spilled countless stories during that tea time. Elouise retraced the explanation she had heard from the bespectacled aide in the carriage. He’d said the man was a young master from the Hanger family—so, based on the old woman’s account, the man she had met really was “the miner’s son.”

But for a miner’s son, his appearance was far too clean.

When picturing a miner, one usually imagines someone with soot on their face and a rugged appearance. The man had indeed been tall and well-built, but his face had shone, smooth and refined, and his tongue was oiled with charm.

If Marcus hadn’t himself asserted he wasn't a noble, Elouise would have naturally assumed he was one.

In fact, that was precisely why she had accepted Marcus’s offer of help.

Her missing father had always taught her that a noble, if truly noble, should not hesitate to offer help to those in need—and likewise, those in distress should not hesitate to accept such kindness. The world had changed since the old days, and even nobles needed to learn how to live among common people, he’d said.

Elouise had practiced those teachings in the most practical way. So she didn't mind that Marcus was not a noble.

Though Elouise was by no means naive or trusting, she and Juliet had just lost everything to a pickpocket and didn’t have a coin to their name. On the other hand, this man had his own carriage and even a personal aide—a wealthy man.

Elouise had noticed, back at the train station, that the cravat Marcus Hanger wore was a remarkably fine piece. It was the same silk she always admired but could never afford whenever she shopped for fabric to sew Juliet’s clothes.

Even kind Lizzy from the dress shop, who always gave her discounts, had confessed that she was afraid to even touch that silk. And here this man had strolled casually through pouring rain in such a garment, clearly unconcerned it would be ruined. What could he possibly want from someone like her?

Someone like me?

That thought made Elouise instinctively wrap her arms around herself, then she chuckled and let them fall. Why would a man like that be interested in a thirty-two-year-old woman past her prime, with nothing left but second-marriage proposals?

As for Juliet, the secretary’s words came to mind:

"Of course, if he ever did something like that, I have already received permission from his father to crack his skull, so you can rest easy."

Thinking of that ridiculous statement made Elouise stifle a laugh.

For someone so proud of not being noble, they sure act like a close-knit aristocratic bunch—even the aide.

Regardless, the man had told her and Juliet, “Stay as long as you like.” The Noskina estate was a vast property divided into east and west wings, and upon stepping into the central hall, Marcus had skillfully summoned the butler and instructed him to escort them to the guest room in the west wing.

“I’m usually on the third floor of the east wing. I’m not at the estate often, but if you need anything, feel free to ask the maids.”

He had said that, ending his remark with a wink. Elouise had flusteredly tried to wave him off, but Juliet beat her to the punch.

“Dinner.”

She had spoken so clearly and precisely! After a short pause following Juliet’s unexpected request, Marcus had laughed heartily and asked the butler to not only guide them but also prepare a dinner setting. The only one who turned red in the face was Elouise.

Remembering that, Elouise covered her face with her hands and collapsed back onto the bed.

“…So embarrassing.”

“Oh my, ma’am. I’ve brought some clothes for you to change into.”

Just then, the maid returned after tidying the room and knocked while holding clothes. Elouise jolted upright. Even amidst her embarrassment, the bedding beneath her hand was so soft it nearly made her cry.

“Thank you. Oh…”

“It’s a guest indoor gown. After you change, if you give us your wet clothes, we’ll clean and return them to you.”

The maid opened the wardrobe to show her the gown, which appeared incredibly soft even at a glance.

There was a petite muslin gown hanging beside it, clearly meant for Juliet. Elouise decided it was time to stop overthinking and simply enjoy the good fortune that had come her way.

She had no idea what Marcus Hanger would propose to her the next day.

---

Marcus’s aunt, Madam Noskina, was absolutely furious.

And rightly so. Her nephew had caused a scandal the moment he arrived in Cliff from the capital—causing a fuss over the Duchess of Bellona for an entire month, disrupting the social scene, and embarrassing the family name.

And today, after presenting an enormous diamond to that insane widow, he’d been rejected again. As if that weren’t enough, just an hour after being turned down, her proud nephew had brought a strange woman into the mansion. Not the Hanger family home in the capital—this Noskina estate!

It was absolutely outrageous.

As soon as she heard the rumors, Madam Noskina summoned Marcus’s aide, Logan, and interrogated him in detail. Logan, shifting his eyes nervously, admitted that it was all true.

Madam Noskina respected the Hanger family—or more accurately, her older brother.

It had been her brother who discovered a coal seam in a barren mountain and saved an entire village from starvation. With exceptional business acumen, he had raised the family from ruin, married her off to the Noskina family, and continued to support her generously to this day.

But his son—her nephew—was utterly hopeless.

At first, she had dismissed the rumors about Marcus as nonsense. But after witnessing his behavior in Cliff firsthand, she could no longer laugh it off. She could no longer even attend tea parties anymore, too embarrassed by her nephew’s antics.

The other ladies, always waiting for a chance to gossip, seized every opportunity to criticize her nephew!

So, Madam Noskina summoned Marcus immediately after dinner.

He finally made an appearance in long after she had called him—appearing gallantly handsome, which only made her more enraged. With a face like that, what the devil is he doing out there?

“Marcus. Do you even know what time it is?”

“Oh. Just past eight in the evening.”

“Do you think I asked because I don’t know the time?”

At her sharp words, Marcus shrugged.

“Apologies. I got caught in the rain and needed to warm up and change.”

“What were you doing out in this weather? No, wait. Let me guess.”

Madam Noskina glared at him.

“You were turned down by that crazy duchess again and went off to sulk, didn’t you?”

“Oh?”

Marcus blinked wide-eyed.

“How did you know? Do rumors spread that fast? I thought you were at home all day…”

“I was! Of course I was! And yet I had to sit there and listen to that noisy woman from Dublin jabbering gleefully about you!”

The outburst, as she clutched her lap blanket in fury, told Marcus everything.

It must’ve been that Lady—Abbie or whatever her name was. She had come from the Dublin region and was infamous for nosing into every affair in Cliff’s society and slandering others. Lady Noskina despised the loudmouth.

Come to think of it, she was probably at Duchess Bellona’s gathering earlier.

Marcus tilted his head, tracing his memory.

She probably witnessed Marcus getting dumped and rushed over to gossip. And since the story involved her nephew, Madam Noskina probably hadn’t been able to kick her out.

“When will you finally grow up? My God. I thought by this age, at least I wouldn’t have to suffer disgrace because of my own nephew!”

Lady Noskina had scolded Marcus like this ever since he’d become infatuated with the Duchess of Bellona. Usually, it ended if he just sat quietly and listened.

So Marcus simply smiled brightly, hoping his aunt would wear herself out soon. She shook with anger and waved a hand, still clutching the blanket.

“If I’d known you’d be such a fool, I would never have agreed to take you in! Just go back to the capital!”

“How could I? I have guests staying here.”

Marcus blinked playfully. His aunt frowned.

“Yes, I heard about that. What in the world were you thinking? Bringing a woman you barely know into the house? What if she’s dangerous—?”

“She’s a lady with a daughter. I doubt it.”

“Marcus, you clearly don’t understand. Your father once—”

“Yes, yes. He trusted someone too easily and nearly lost everything, right? You’ve told that story seventy times. Only thirty more to hit a hundred.”

“Marcus!”

Madam Noskina snapped. Marcus replied with an exaggerated flinch, then circled behind her and reached for her shoulders—gently massaging them.

“You think I’ll fall for this again?”

“No, not at all. It’s just… you’ve had the fireplace going all day, so I worried your shoulders might be cold.”

Smoothly deflecting her anger, Marcus massaged her stiff shoulders.

Though she often complained about shoulder stiffness, she didn’t push his hands away. Marcus smiled as he continued.

“She may be a stranger, but she’s a refined woman. She said she’s from Maine.”

“If you let someone in just because they’re refined, then all of Cliff would be sleeping under our roof!”

“It’s not like that. Actually, it’s sort of my fault…”

Unfazed by her sarcasm, Marcus explained how he had helped the woman out of misplaced kindness, how her bag had been stolen because of it, and how, after he left, she and her daughter had been left with nowhere to go, standing in the rain at the station.

He was prepared for a scolding—and sure enough, the moment he finished, Madam Noskina widened her eyes.

“You wicked boy! Now you’re ruining random women’s lives too?”

“…I didn’t ruin anything…”

“Do you think I don’t know about the countless women you’ve made cry in the capital?”

She slapped his hands away from her shoulders. Marcus, laughing quietly through the pain, could tell that the story of Lady Starwood in the rain had at least eased her anger a smidge.

“So? What happened with the mother and daughter?”

“I had them shown to the west guest room and asked for a meal to be prepared.”

“…Good. And?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t tell me…”

Madam Noskina’s eyes sharpened again.

“You brought guests into this house and didn’t properly host them for dinner?”

Only then did Marcus realize what had upset her so much. She was obsessed with noble etiquette—and noble etiquette dictated that one should always dine with house guests.

But Marcus, in moments like these, was unmistakably his father’s son—a merchant’s son.

“Ah, well…”

Seeing him flustered, Madam Noskina covered her face with her hands.

“I’m so embarrassed, I can’t even show my face anymore!”

She had already learned from Logan that the woman Marcus brought was a noble. She hadn’t heard of the name Starwood, but apparently she held a title. To think of how that woman must’ve looked at her nephew—and at this estate—with disappointment!

“Logan! Where’s Logan? I should give him a cane and have him swat you every chance he gets! How am I supposed to face the world once you leave?”

“My secretary won’t follow that order, no matter how much you insist.”

“Ha! Like master, like servant. He must be oh-so-loyal to someone like you, huh?”

She sneered.

Marcus debated whether to respond with: “He’d probably complain that’s extra work. If you want him to hit me, you’ll have to pay him overtime.” But in the end, he just laughed. It was no use adding fuel to the fire.

“You listen to me. Tomorrow, you will invite her to lunch. Understood?”

“Invite her…?”

“Without me, of course! You will host her! I have no reason to entertain a woman you’re not even going to marry! Dinner’s one thing, but lunch…!”

She proceeded grumbling again. She seemed to have completely forgotten that Marcus was dumped by the Duchess of Bellona. She launched into a speech regarding the etiquette of lunch vs. dinner.

Marcus continued nodding as he massaged her shoulders. “Yes, yes, you’re right.” Apparently, he would be having lunch with that woman tomorrow.

So… lunch is okay if it’s someone you’ll marry, but otherwise it has to be dinner? What kind of rule is that?

Noble etiquette always felt overly complicated. In the capital, the court was full of people from all walks of life. No one cared much about protocol, and Marcus had never been criticized. But in a place like Cliff, all those archaic customs still remained.

He briefly wondered—Could it be that the Duchess rejected me not because I’m married, but because I lack proper manners?

No. Marcus shook off the thought. It was no use being sentimental—he needed a new plan. He might fall in love easily, but he didn’t give up easily either. Once he fell, he had to win. Logan often mocked him for this stubborn streak, but Marcus didn’t care.

Still… marrying someone just to seduce the duchess? That’s a bit much…

Who marries someone just to pursue another woman? Logan would never believe it, but Marcus did have some standards.

He couldn’t marry just anyone for the sake of approaching Duchess Bellona. It wasn’t merely a matter of romance. Messing up could mean plummeting the Hanger family fortune in half.

…Wait.

Something stirred in Marcus’s eccentric brain. A thought hovered just out of reach, on the verge of formulating.

There has to be a way… what is it…?

He furrowed his brow. And just then—

"If you had brought her here saying you intended to marry her, at least I wouldn’t be this flustered!"

Madam Noskina snapped, her voice brimming with frustration.

Just like lightning—

Bingo.

Something flipped in Marcus’s head.

A thought surged forward and took shape with perfect clarity.

I’ll just fake a marriage.

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