Episode 60

The city of Bellona—both the namesake and the heart of the Bellona estate—lay three days from the capital. That is, by train.

Which is to say, Marcus had been given a considerable amount of time to think. And to make matters more pressing, Logan, who had galloped after him to the station, said the moment he saw him:

“I truly dislike you, my lord.”

“…That means you’re not coming with me, I take it?”

“Of course not! Damn it.”

Grumbling, Logan handed Marcus his wallet. It contained the Hanger family’s crest—needed to pass through various estates—and a handful of gold coins.

“…How did you know I’d be heading to the station?”

“It’d take you a full month to ride that horse to the North. This is much faster. And besides, the northbound train doesn’t leave for another three hours. What’s with all the theatrics?”

“You think everyone memorizes the train schedule like you do?”

The man who’d stormed out of the tailor’s without even checking the timetable was now snapping at the man who had. Logan merely scoffed.

“In any case, don’t come back alone.”

“…Is that your way of cheering me on?”

“To be precise, it means don’t go making a grand declaration and then come back rejected. I now have to explain to Lord Hanger what sort of mess you caused with the Duchess of Bellona.”

Marcus deflated slightly.

“To my father…”

“I most certainly must. Whose regular tailor do you think that shop is?”

Marcus had chosen his sister Gloria’s go-to boutique, thinking it would be the least troublesome. But now, in this moment, he was already beating himself up for it. The tension-filled exchange he’d had with the Duchess of Bellona had surely reached Gloria’s ears by now. Logan sighed.

“I get paid handsomely, and yet I feel no satisfaction in earning that money. And that, my lord, is entirely your doing.”

“And to think I pay you that handsomely only for you to be this insolent.”

“I like to believe I work hard enough to earn the right to be insolent.”

Logan raised his chin. It was not, strictly speaking, an unfair remark.

And so, Marcus Hanger was placed in a first-class cabin aboard the earliest departing train, his wallet well-stocked. It was worlds apart from the impassioned vision he’d had in mind as he bolted from the boutique.

He had imagined galloping straight to Elouise, heart pounding, ready to reclaim what was his. In reality, he was lying in a sleeper car, gently rocking as the train chugged its way north. Truthfully, he longed to shovel heaps of coal into the furnace himself to speed the journey along.

In any case, he now had ample time to think.

And the closer Marcus drew to Bellona, the more dispirited he became. Countless possibilities gnawed at him. He recalled the confident, almost triumphant attitude of Evenia Bellona.

She had kept Juliet openly at her side, even going so far as to warn him that taking Juliet back would only lead to regret. Judging by that, it was safe to assume Elouise and the Duchess were on better terms than he had imagined.

As he remembered, Elouise had despised the Duchess of Bellona. But three years… three years was enough time for enemies to become friends. What those years had wrought between the two women, he could not know.

Worse still was Juliet’s offhanded remark regarding "Alby Uncle’s baby." Uncle Alby’s baby? A baby of Uncle Alby’s? Her phrasing was ambiguous at best. Struggling to deduce the correct meaning, Marcus ran his fingers through his hair, nearly yanking it out.

He tried, as best he could, to think positively. Elouise had been a remarkable governess, supporting herself by tutoring the children of noble families. It would not be odd if she were still teaching in Bellona.

Thus, Juliet’s words could very well have meant that Elouise was simply looking after the child of someone named ‘Uncle Alby’—and therefore could not come.

Yet another possibility plagued him.

Elouise had only ever taken on students above a certain age—most of them daughters of noble houses preparing for marriage.

So then, what exactly did Juliet mean by “baby”? What age range, in her mind, counted as a baby? Marcus wanted to weep.

If Juliet was referring to an actual infant, the odds that Elouise was merely a governess shrank drastically. And regrettably, Marcus could think of another scenario.

That Elouise had married this ‘Uncle Alby’ and borne his child.

Cruelly enough, that possibility seemed far more likely when weighed against her character. Just as three years could make friends of former foes, they were more than sufficient time for the woman he loved to fall in love with someone else.

Elouise was practical and proud. She avoided being indebted to others whenever she could. Rather than live beholden to the Duchess, she may have chosen to remarry and live happily. That would also explain why she entrusted Juliet to the Duchess and sent her to the capital alone—it made far more sense if that were the case.

If she had indeed borne a child during those three years, the child could be, at most, just over a year old.

To travel from Bellona to the capital with an infant in tow was inconceivable. Nor could she leave a nursing infant behind. Thus, it stood to reason—however painfully—that Elouise, having a baby of her own, left Juliet in Evenia's care so the girl could pursue better opportunities in the capital.

And the moment Marcus’s thoughts reached that point, he asked for a drink. Naturally, the train attendants were happy to oblige a first-class passenger downing expensive liquor.

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In the end, Marcus Hanger did not disembark in Bellona alone. A longtime, loathsome companion known as “Hangover” followed him off the train.

Clutching his throbbing head, Marcus was more cynical after three days aboard that train than he’d been in the past three years.

If she’s married someone else, I’ll turn back.

That was the conclusion he arrived at—along with the alcohol.

He wanted Elouise with a desperation he could scarcely describe. But if she had found new happiness, he would not stoop to disturbing it. Not when he himself wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t let her go.

He knew only that he loved her. That if he saw her again, he would embrace her and vow his love. Beyond that, he had never once considered what would come next.

Still, he could not force his love upon her.

At the train station, Marcus hailed a carriage and gave the name of a neighborhood he remembered. The driver grumbled, saying it was quite far from the Bellona station. When Marcus handed him a gold coin, he grumbled twice as much.

“No change, you know!”

Even when Marcus kindly told him to keep the change, the driver remained sour-faced.

“Getting lucky brings bad luck, y’know. Just sayin’.”

To think someone would greet a stroke of fortune with suspicion—it felt like a bad omen. Marcus rolled his eyes.

The driver plodded along. He even stopped at a shop or two to break the change. Marcus wanted nothing more than to snap at him, but he held back. He had already ruined things once by acting rashly and regretted it bitterly.

So, he waited. Eventually, the carriage came to a halt. It was late afternoon, and the village was small.

Some fifty homes clustered together in quiet harmony. Marcus could hardly believe Elouise was living in such a place. The driver dumped the remaining coins into Marcus’s hand.

He had tried to refuse them, but in the end he accepted. The sheer number of coins made his wallet bulge and tear at the seams. Weighted down by it, Marcus trudged forward like a fool.

Juliet had told him only where Elouise lived—not how, or in which house. That was simply her manner of speaking: scattered and incomplete.

Looking at the houses spread here and there, Marcus feared he would spend all night asking, “Does Elouise Starwood live here?”

Fortunately, this was the North. The weather was still cool, and many houses had their doors open. Children played in the golden afternoon sun. Marcus walked past the small, low homes and their roughly made fences. Clearly an outsider, he drew curious glances from the children. One boy finally approached him.

“Mister, who are you?”

“Hmm, I came looking for someone.”

At that, the boy snapped his hand out with the speed of a crack—a silent request for payment.

What kind of kid is faster on the uptake than a capital pickpocket? Marcus was amused, and secretly relieved. He pulled a handful of coins from his wallet and gave them to the boy. The boy made a strange face, then returned all but five coins. His wallet became heavy again.

“Who’re you looking for?”

“…Do you, by any chance, know a girl named Juliet?”

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