Episode 7

Marcus’s proposal was met with a simple response from Logan.

He remained silent for about five seconds, then turned around and headed to his small room adjoining Marcus’s bedroom.

From under his bed, he pulled out a fine pigskin trunk. Marcus knew that trunk well—it was the one Logan had bought with his first paycheck and treasured ever since.

Logan placed the trunk on the bed, opened his wardrobe, and swept all of his shirts inside the trunk. The few pairs of trousers and jackets he owned suffered the same fate.

Marcus stood in the doorway and crossed his arms.

“Planning to run away?”

“No. But I'm close to getting there.”

Logan turned around with a serious expression and adjusted his glasses.

“No matter how precious money is, it’s not worth more than my life. I’d rather quit than work next to a madman…”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Crazy people always say that.”

“I’m serious.”

“What’s my favorite food?”

“Fried ravioli.”

“What food do I hate?”

“You eat everything.”

“Damn it.”

Logan loosened his cravat and collapsed onto the bed. Marcus smiled.

“See? I know you better than you thought.”

“No. If you were in your right mind, you’d never remember my favorite food. You’re definitely crazy.”

“Hey.”

At Logan’s blatant sarcasm, Marcus raised an eyebrow. Logan threw the cravat aside, planted both hands on his knees, and looked up at him.

“For the record, I like almond pudding.”

“Damn it. Noted. But I was right that you don’t hate anything—”

“I despise haggis.”

“…I’ll remember that.”

Marcus clicked his tongue. Logan grumbled.

“What the hell is this fake marriage talk? Sure, it’s cheaper than a diamond, but you’re saying you’ll get married just to have an affair? That’s like raising a pig just to eat one sausage!”

“Mmm. One sausage sounds good.”

“Ugh! Are you for real?!”

Logan grabbed the nearest object and flung it at the floor. Unfortunately, it was a pair of trousers he had just stuffed into the trunk, so it didn’t make much of an impression. Marcus only shrugged.

“She said she won’t see me because I’m not married.”

“Then don’t see the duchess!”

“Logan, if it were that simple, I wouldn’t be living like this.”

“You sound like some kind of opium addict!”

“They say love is like a drug.”

Logan squinted and picked the trousers back up, folding them and pretending to pack again. Marcus grinned and made a half-hearted attempt to stop him by grabbing his arm. Logan sighed and pushed Marcus with his foot.

Marcus exaggeratedly flopped backward to satisfy his aide's growing frustration. Logan took a deep breath and pushed up his glasses with his middle finger.

Then he asked dryly:

“So, you’re going to ask Lady Starwood to marry you?”

“It’s a win-win situation.”

“She has something to gain from fake marriage with you? I mean, sure, maybe a few things, but…”

Marcus flashed a sly smile. Logan groaned. It was true—if one wanted to gain something, there were plenty of benefits.

“She came to find a match for her daughter. But she was planning to stay in the boarding house district. That means she doesn’t know anyone in Cliff’s social scene.”

“But even so—who fake-marries to secure a match? That could be a major insult! What are you thinking of doing to that noblewoman? Are you trying to get kicked out by Madam Noskina?”

Logan raised his voice. Marcus simply shrugged.

“This might make me sound like a terrible person, but the world doesn’t run purely on etiquette. Maybe it’s because I’m not a noble, but I think it’s actually a fair proposal.”

“Fair? How?”

“…Doesn’t she look like she needs money?”

This time, Logan collapsed forward onto the bed.

This lunatic! Was he seriously going to bribe her into agreeing?

But Marcus just went on, completely shameless.

“She’ll be my secret wife during her stay here. I’ve even planned the backstory. She and I were in love in our youth, before I made a name for myself in the capital. Now she’s returned, child in tow, to find me. Romantic, right?”

“Please stop reading dime novels…”

“Before I head back to the capital, we’ll have a wedding in Cliff. And since the blonde child obviously isn’t mine—aha!”

Marcus snapped his fingers.

“What if we say her deceased sister entrusted her with the child?”

Neither of them realized how close that was to the truth.

Logan sighed. Marcus continued rambling excitedly.

“Yes! While she’s here, she’ll pose as the future mistress of the Hanger estate. No one in Cliff society will dare disrespect her. Finding a match for her daughter will become much easier.”

Logan gazed at Marcus with outright pity. But Marcus was already fired up, clenching his fist in determination.

“And in the meantime, I can keep courting the Duchess of Bellona!”

“Even if they find a match, it’s a fake marriage. What happens if they forge a connection under the pretense that her daughter is yours, only for the truth to come out?”

At that, Marcus wagged his finger smugly.

“Mm-mm. No, Logan. That’s why I built in the backstory.”

“…No way.”

“I’ll become the girl’s godfather!”

“…You still haven’t been baptized, have you?”

“Nope. But something similar will do. Guardian, honorary uncle—whatever works…”

His clever secretary shook his head slowly.

Marcus might’ve been full of nonsense, but this crossed a line. Clearly, he planned to offer the woman a large sum of money to play along with this far-fetched scheme.

But there was no way that calm, modest woman would agree to something so outrageous.

So Logan decided to cease his attempts to stop the clearly senile master. The woman would surely reject the idea anyway. There was no point in wasting energy.

Had Logan known what her answer would be, he would’ve stayed up all night tearing Marcus off the idea.

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Marcus spared no effort in trying to please the lady.

First, he sent a servant to a tailor in Cliff early in the morning. After all, the lady had lost her bag the day before, and it was unlikely she had a change of clothes. She was probably wearing a guest robe for now, but that wouldn't be suitable for a lunch invitation.

Strictly speaking, it’s my fault as well.

Marcus had met countless women and lavished them all with extravagant gifts, so when it came to estimating a woman’s measurements by eye, he had confidence. Thanks to that, the servant returned with a dress that fit the lady quite well. Naturally, he had also bought a dress for her daughter.

Lady Starwood arrived at the lunch invitation wearing a gentle smile. She was dressed in a gown of ivory and pink—one Marcus had sent for. It paired well with her slightly reddish-brown hair.

The dress gathered just beneath her bust before cascading gently in soft folds down to her feet. She wore it with a somewhat awkward smile.

“Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Hanger. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn colors like this.”

“Is that so? It was acquired in haste, so if it’s not to your liking, I ask for your patience. At your convenience, I can summon a designer to tailor something more appropriate.”

“Oh no, please. I’ve just always thought these colors were for much younger ladies… And really—this is more than enough. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

She waved her hands as if the thought embarrassed her. Marcus smiled.

“To me, this is nowhere near enough. If we’re being honest, it was because of me that you lost your bag, so please don’t worry.”

The language of nobles! Marcus honestly found these polite refusals and deflections utterly exhausting.

Regardless, by bringing her to the estate, he had effectively declared that he would take responsibility for the Starwood mother and daughter’s food, clothing, and lodging for the time being.

And she knew that too—her refusal was just part of the etiquette and dignity she had been raised with.

But then—

“Hmm, now that you say that…”

Marcus blinked in surprise. Lady Starwood was blinking slowly, eyes turned upward in contemplation. She seemed to be genuinely mulling it over.

“If continuing to refuse makes you uncomfortable… then perhaps the more polite thing would be to accept your kindness after all…”

Well, that was unexpected. Marcus gave a soft laugh.

It was, in a way, both brazen and bold. But to Marcus, it was also a relief—she was saving him from the trouble of skirting around her refusals.

If he had known that last night she’d already decided to enjoy her unexpected fortune to the fullest, he would’ve thrown a fist into the air in victory.

But Marcus couldn’t read Elouise Starwood’s mind. So instead, he simply spent the long and leisurely lunch quietly probing into her background.

For example, he learned that Elouise Starwood was a well-known governess in Maine, and that she maintained the Starwood estate on her own.

As for why Juliet hadn’t joined them at the lunch table, she explained it was because her daughter was rather restless. But Marcus suspected that, in truth, she didn’t want to expose her of-marriageable-age daughter any more than necessary.

As if I’d ever do something with a fourteen-year-old girl.

…But then again, Marcus also knew that out there in the world, there were absolute bastards who would.

So he smiled and let the matter pass.

And after what felt like a long yet strangely short meal, Marcus came away with one clear impression: she was a remarkably simple person.

She complimented the indoor plumbing in the bathroom but didn’t go overboard praising him. She never once asked if he could introduce her into society. Most people tried everything they could to get close to him for that reason.

Is she determined not to owe me more than she already does?

Also—

“So, sadly, I was rejected by the duchess. Apparently because I’m not married,” Marcus had said.

“Oh my… but do her relationships truly matter to you, Sir Hanger?” she had asked in return.

Marcus liked that. Everyone else had either gasped, “What? She only dates married men?” or sneered, “What more could you want that you’re chasing that woman?”

Of course, it had been Marcus’s mistake to forget that Elouise Starwood was an exceptional governess.

She was a woman who taught nobles. She had great experience managing conversations without criticizing others, especially when dealing with her students. The reason was simple: students were clients—and clients were money.

And while Marcus wasn’t exactly her client, he was still someone she owed a debt to. So Elouise had been treating Marcus the way she would one of her pupils all morning. Marcus had yet to come in terms with the fact.

“Absolutely. I live for my love for the duchess. To such an extent that I’m seriously thinking of getting married just so I can court her properly!”

Marcus spread his arms, raving with theatrical enthusiasm. Elouise thought:

This man is completely insane.

But if she displayed open contempt, she’d probably be thrown out of the estate. So Elouise forced a lifeless smile.

“How wonderful for you.”

When dealing with a madman, one must offer applause—not contempt.

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