Chapter 2.8

Natalie returned to her room. She went straight to the window to catch a glimpse of Mr. Wharton’s departing figure for a little longer.  

Even when she leaned out the window, she couldn’t see him anymore. Only then did Natalie step away from the window.  

The once-fluffed pillow seemed to deflate, just as her elated mood gradually settled.  

The room, which had always been a vibrant space of joy with just one book, now seemed dull and colorless. The silence, which had always brought her comfort, now felt like an emptiness left behind by Mr. Wharton’s voice.  

Still in her day clothes, Natalie sat on the edge of her bed and realized something.  

Today’s adventure had irreversibly changed her life.  

Adventures have a way of completely transforming a person, leaving no way to return to their previous life.  

As she removed her gloves, Natalie reflected on her conversations with Mr. Wharton. Occasionally, vivid moments resurfaced, bringing a smile to her face again.  

In the midst of her thoughts, she felt a sense of obligation to do something as a friend for Mr. Wharton. She wanted to be a reliable and supportive friend to him as well.  

What could I do?  

Lost in thought, Natalie’s gaze fell upon a bouquet sent by someone whose love had borne fruit.  

Writing a letter.  

It was the one thing she was confident in. Ideas for helping Mr. Wharton sprang to mind.  

Natalie placed her gloves on the desk and sat down with a resolute attitude. She carefully chose her stationery.  

Though she usually preferred white paper, today she selected a bright yellow one, reminiscent of Mr. Wharton’s beautiful blonde hair. After sharpening her pen, she began her letter.  

To the esteemed Miss Windsor, 

***

Maurice couldn’t believe his eyes. He was also somewhat worried.  

Had the broken engagement affected him that much?  

When people start behaving out of character, it’s natural to first worry about their health.  

Meanwhile, Edgar, wearing a serious expression, turned the pages of a book. The sound of paper rustling resounded unusually loudly in the quiet study.  

“…May I report now?”  

“Of course.”  

Despite his response, his eyes remained fixed on the book.  

“That book must be quite captivating.”  

“It’s worth reading.”  

His indifferent tone conveyed that reading the book was more important than answering.  

“Have you read it?”  

“Pardon?”  

As Maurice looked confused, Edgar showed him the book cover. Maurice confirmed the title: ‘The Mysteries of Udolpho’.  

“No, I haven’t read it.”  

Edgar handed Maurice a copy of the book that had been lying on his desk.  

“Take one. I have several.”  

It was only then that Maurice noticed all the books piled on the desk were copies of ‘The Mysteries of Udolpho’.  

“Why did you buy so many of them?”  

“Just because. While I was at it.”  

“……”  

“A friend of mine said it’s the kind of book you’ll read until it’s worn out, so you should buy two copies from the start—one for keeping and one for reading.”  

Maurice wondered what kind of peculiar friend Edgar had made this time, as he examined the book.  

There was a knock at the door.  

“Come in.”  

After Edgar’s permission, the door opened, and a maid entered. Her hurried steps hinted that she had urgent news. Her tense expression suggested something unusual had occurred.  

“The young lady of the Duke’s family has arrived.”  

Startled, Maurice almost dropped the book.  

***

The silent parlor was filled with tension. To be precise, the two people inside were as calm as ever, but Maurice, peeking through the door crack, was extremely nervous.  

“It’s been a while. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”  

Edgar was the first to speak.  

“It’s a relief to hear that I look well.”  

The response was laced with thorns. The Duke’s young lady smiled with only her eyes and added another remark.  

“It’s fortunate that you don’t look like someone whose engagement was annulled because their fiancé was exchanging love letters with someone else.”  

Maurice, who was eavesdropping, felt indignant on Edgar’s behalf.  

Mr. Wharton, with his calm demeanor, did not appear to be someone desperate to salvage the engagement. Maurice, however, was inwardly anxious, hoping Mr. Wharton would clarify the misunderstanding and suggest revisiting the engagement.  

“Has your heart changed, the one that once wished to never see my face again?”  

Mr. Wharton smiled as he asked. It was as if he were asking Lady Wharton, ‘You missed me, didn’t you?’  

The Duke’s young lady deliberately took her time, sipping tea as though she were stalling.  

“A little.”  

The Duke’s young lady finally replied. Maurice, who had been holding his breath, felt a flush of relief. At the same time, he caught the gaze of Mrs. Miller, who had appeared unnoticed.  

The servants of the Wharton household could not defy Mrs. Miller, the housekeeper in charge of the estate. Her stern gaze was as intimidating as Lady Wharton’s scolding.  

“Is it proper to eavesdrop on private conversations like this?”  

Mrs. Miller scolded him in a low voice. Maurice offered an awkward smile and retreated sheepishly.  

Mrs. Miller decisively shut the door.  

***

Olivia Windsor heard the sound of the door closing. With the fervent gaze of the eavesdropper gone, it was finally time to get to the main point.  

To be blunt, what brought Olivia back to this place was a single letter. A bright yellow letter that reminded her of the handsome man sitting before her.  

The wealth of the Wharton family was no secret in this city. While her father, the Duke of Windsor, clearly sought him as a son-in-law for his money, Olivia had accepted him as a fiancé for a different reason.  

Edgar Wharton was beautiful.  

But wasn’t it said that beautiful roses have many thorns? Edgar Wharton’s thorns were the countless rumors surrounding him. Olivia was well aware of his colorful scandals.  

What did those rumors matter?  

The rumors surrounding him only made Olivia’s trophy shine brighter.  

At least until she confirmed with her own eyes that those rumors were true.  

“Mr. Wharton, you always seem to be surrounded by many rumors.”  

Olivia placed the envelope she was holding onto the table. Sitting across from each other with a single letter between them was not an unfamiliar scene.  

Perhaps it was the same for him, as his beautiful blue eyes lingered on the letter.  

“Rumors in society spread as fast as trends. They spread so quickly that a woman stoned yesterday becomes the Virgin Mary by this morning.”  

Hearing Olivia’s words, Edgar Wharton furrowed his brow slightly, though his smile remained. Olivia smiled sweetly at his perfectly handsome face, even when frowning.  

“Of course, you’re not a woman, Mr. Wharton, but it’s a metaphor.”  

Metaphorically speaking, Edgar Wharton had transformed overnight from a philanderer accused of adultery into a chaste young man.  

The source of the rumors, as always, was unknown. They were merely passed along from unreliable sources like a friend of a friend of an acquaintance.  

The most chaste young man in this city—Edgar Wharton.  

The scandals surrounding him were all baseless rumors.  

The claims that the number of women he had enchanted could fill a ballroom were false, and in reality, he wouldn’t even dare to hold a woman’s hand.  

“He’s simply too kind-hearted, extending kindness wherever he goes.”  

“He’s so gentle that he would comfort a crying woman and even offer her his coat.”  

“They say he even considered becoming a priest. How could someone who led a debauched life have such aspirations?”  

An astonishing miracle had occurred overnight. The stones of criticism aimed at Edgar Wharton vanished, replaced by admiration for his purity.  

Olivia didn’t believe it. She had heard enough of society’s baseless rumors to know better.  

More importantly, she had seen the vulgar letter with her own eyes, so she wasn’t swayed by idle chatter.  

But that bright yellow letter unsettled her.  

“I didn’t expect you to go so far as to write me a letter. Nor did I expect you to hold such deep feelings for me.”  

It was only after hearing Miss Windsor’s words that Edgar realized the letter in front of him was supposedly written by him. He picked up the letter.  

Though he had never written it, his name was clearly written on it.  

From Edgar Wharton.  

The handwriting was neat—unlike his own.  

“Can’t you write more neatly, child?”  

Lady Wharton would always adjust her glasses and scold him whenever she received documents from Edgar.  

While he wasn’t a poor writer, thanks to the rigorous training from his great-aunt, his naturally flowing handwriting was far from neat.  

Thus, the handwriting proved it.  

This letter wasn’t written by Edgar himself.  

Since he had never written to Miss Windsor, it was natural that she wouldn’t recognize his handwriting. She had no reason to find the letter suspicious.  

To the esteemed Miss Windsor,  

First, I wish to apologize for causing you pain. I understand how shocked you must have been by the unpleasant situation. I, too, was so taken aback that I failed to consider your feelings.  

I must clarify that the letter in question was entirely one-sided and has no relation to me. However, I ask for your forgiveness for my thoughtless handling of the matter, which hurt you. I hope you can kindly understand my lack of courage to seek your forgiveness in person.

The list of suspects narrowed.  

The person who wrote this letter clearly knew about the unpleasant incident caused by a single letter.  

As Edgar mentally reviewed the suspects, only one face remained vividly in his mind.  

Natalie.  

At that moment, a chuckle escaped him, and he quickly covered his mouth before Miss Windsor noticed.  

I often think about the meaning of marriage. Two people becoming one requires careful consideration.  

It’s not just about family or money; one must also consider each other’s values, likes, and life experiences. But what I hope for from you, Miss Windsor, is…

As Edgar read the letter, Natalie’s voice seemed to echo in his ears. It felt as though she were sitting before him, reading the letter aloud. A smile unconsciously spread across his face.  

To see the flowers bloom together in spring, walk under the shade of trees in summer, reflect on the year’s shared moments in autumn, and look forward to the days to come in winter.

The absence of the word “love” in a letter so heartfelt confirmed the identity of the writer.  

Only Edgar knew that Natalie, considering his preferences, had deliberately avoided using that word.  

Edgar ran his fingers over the spot where “Edgar Wharton” was written, imagining “Natalie Maron” in its place.  

For some reason, the act of overlaying another’s name over his own made him laugh.  

“May I keep this letter?”  

“……”  

Olivia was speechless. She had never heard of someone taking back a letter they had supposedly written because they liked it so much.  

Laughing at the letter, tracing his name, and gazing at it with such affection—it was as if he had fallen in love with the letter itself.  

If all of this was an expression of affection, it was an extreme form of self-love, as intense as Narcissus falling for his reflection in the water.

When Olivia remained silent, Edgar Wharton softened his gaze and smiled. It was the practiced smile of someone well aware that his greatest asset was his face.

“I feel shy when I read over the letter I wrote with all my heart. I’ll keep this letter with me. If my feelings have been conveyed, that’s enough for me.”

There wasn’t the slightest hint of shyness in his tone. The way he folded the letter back into its envelope was as confident as someone reclaiming their own possession. 

After all, Edgar Wharton was the one who wrote the letter, so technically, it was his. However, Olivia felt as though something of hers had been taken away. 

It was an absurd situation, but she placed her hand on the envelope nonetheless.

“Isn’t that letter mine? You wrote it to me, after all.”

“……”

The confident thief of the letter looked at Olivia with a puzzled expression. His blue eyes were so clear and innocent that it was hard to believe he was the subject of scandalous rumors. His gaze seemed to ask, ‘Why are you making such a fuss over my letter?’

Olivia felt incredulous as she looked at his beautiful face, which was feigning innocence.

“I was taught that there’s no such thing as a favor without a price in this world. If I return the letter to you, that would be my favor. What price can you offer me, Mr. Wharton, in exchange for my favor?”

“Ah, a price.”

Edgar Wharton reacted as if he had only just understood what she wanted.

“A price…”

He pretended to think seriously, his gaze wandering into the air, before tilting his head toward Olivia. In a hushed tone, he made a seductive proposal.

“I’ll gift you an unforgettable night. Just for you, Miss Windsor.”