Eliza replied calmly,

“Oh, you mean your relationship with the young marquis? Once the families finish their discussions, I’m sure you’ll tell me yourself. Won’t you?”

At the mention of “discussions between families,” Lorina’s expression immediately grew complicated.

Without giving her a chance to respond, Eliza continued,

“The Marchioness! I’m so envious, Lorina. I always knew you would achieve your dream.”

“Hm? No, we’re not quite at that stage yet—”

“You always said it yourself, didn’t you? That you wanted the most dazzling wedding in all of Athern—the kind people would be desperate to attend, with reporters crowding outside the church. The young marquis is the perfect match to make that dream come true, isn’t he?”

“Th… that’s true.”

As if entranced by the image of her own wedding, Lorina stared blankly at the delicate floral patterns on the wallpaper.

Whatever feelings she might have for Aedrin, it was clear she was deeply in love with the grand wedding she had always dreamed of.

After a moment, she spoke again, her tone soft, her eyes tinged with faint sadness.

“But for now, please keep it a secret from everyone—especially your husband, Eliza. You know how narrow-minded and talkative Athern’s society can be.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

‘You were the one who cut me off from that society—how would I know?’

‘Ah… I let my temper slip again.’

Even though she knew she should play the part of the easy, gullible woman she once was, Eliza felt an almost irresistible urge to provoke Lorina.

Forcing herself to sound natural, she continued,

“…The only way I hear any news from society is through you, after all. Isn’t that right?”

“…Is that so?”

“So I’ll only tell my husband. You know James—he’s not the kind of man to spread gossip.”

“Eliza.”

“If he hears your news, he’ll be delighted. He’ll probably say, ‘Eliza, don’t spare any expense when preparing a wedding gift for the daughter of Count Winclaire.’”

“…”

Lorina pressed her lips together, her expression faintly wounded.

Eliza found herself wondering what had caused that reaction.

Was it the thought of James — the one person she most wanted to keep in the dark — finding out the truth?

Or was it the cold, distant way he referred to her as ‘the daughter of Count Winclaire’, as though there were miles between them?

To Lorina, however, Eliza looked no different from the day before.

She still had that delicate, almost fairy-like face — innocent and naïve, like a fragile creature destined to be trapped in a sorcerer’s cage.

And yet, for some reason, today felt different.

The conversation was suffocating her, as though she were the one being led.

Lorina carefully swallowed the anger rising within her, forcing it down and out of sight.

Then, with composed calm, she spoke.

“Please, Eliza. I don’t even like that kind of talk. It’s not that serious between me and the young marquis. I merely introduced him to a few people from high society. They’re not people you would know, of course.”

Lorina slipped in a subtle slight against Eliza without missing a beat.

‘So you only pursue “serious relationships” with married men, then?’

Keeping her expression as innocent as possible, Eliza replied,

“But the way he looks at you didn’t seem that way. Lorina, perhaps you’ve grown dull to such things, being Athern’s most desirable bride. Please, take a closer look at his feelings. So you don’t let your ‘fate’ pass you by.”

“…!”

As if genuinely caught off guard, Lorina’s lips parted slightly, her expression momentarily blank.

Eliza continued in a gentle tone,

“You always said it yourself. That marriage should be an upward one—like mine. That it must have been God’s special favor that allowed me to meet James.”

What she truly meant was: Someone like you becoming James’s wife—there’s no explanation for it other than divine intervention.

“…”

“This time, I’m certain that God has sent the young Marquis to you. So that you can experience the happiness I have in my marriage to James. When I saw you yesterday, I felt that so strongly that I offered a prayer of thanks.”

Lorina was smiling, but Eliza could see the vein at her temple swelling, as though she could pluck it with her fingertips.

Even the corners of her lips, forced upwards, trembled faintly.

For Lorina Winclaire, who was usually so adept at controlling her expressions, it was an unusually visible sign of distress.

Eliza focused all her strength on keeping her own face from betraying even the slightest hint of amusement.

“Eliza.”

“Yes?”

When Eliza answered with an innocent face, Lorina pressed her lips together for a moment before speaking again, her voice low, as though forcing the words out,

“As I said before, I would prefer it if you kept this to yourself.”

Eliza thought,

‘Shall I leave it at this for today?’

With a slightly subdued expression, she replied,

“I didn’t realize you cared that much about it, Lorina. I suppose I was thoughtless. I’m sorry.”

I suppose I was thoughtless—it was a phrase she had used so often, back when she lived believing that any fault must always lie with herself.

Only then did Lorina relax, her expression softening as she finally spoke again in a gentler tone.

“Then really… why did you go into the city?”

At that moment, Marie entered with the tea and spoke up.

“It seems my lady wanted to buy some new clothes. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on her side.”

For a split second, Eliza nearly shot Marie a glare, but she forced herself to hold back and looked toward the wall instead. Lorina, on the other hand, brightened immediately.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner! Shall we go to Madame Castile’s boutique together? I have some free time these days. I’ll buy you a dress!”

Eliza felt a flicker of irritation.

After all, she wasn’t royalty — how could she possibly wear dresses worth tens of thousands of dollars?

The way Lorina offered her such an extravagant gown, treating it as though it were a precious jewel that James himself would hesitate to touch, and which Eliza had no occasion to wear, felt almost insulting.

Struggling to suppress her anger, she answered in the timid tone she used to use.

“Oh, Lorina. I’m not the kind of person who suits clothes like that. You know that.”

A satisfied smile touched Lorina’s lips.

‘Of course. You’re not in a position to shop at the same boutique as I do.’

Seeing that, Eliza thought,

‘Why don’t you stop already?’

But Lorina, encouraged by her refusal, pressed on eagerly,

“Don’t say that. Just leave it to me this once. And you’ll do me a favor in return.”

“A favor?”

At that, a spark flashed in Lorina’s eyes.

‘How dull can this girl possibly be?’

If she had even half the awareness of an ordinary person, she would have realized by now that this was a bribe to keep her quiet.

Yet Lorina maintained a flawless smile, her confident manner making it seem all the more natural.

“That you keep quiet about the young marquis. That includes your husband.”

“Oh, that? Of course. I will. He has no interest in your romantic affairs anyway.”

For a moment, Eliza almost felt as though she could actually see sparks flying from Lorina’s eyes.

Then Lorina’s expression stiffened.

Only then did the tight knot in Eliza’s chest begin to loosen.

With a rigid smile, Lorina said,

“Then I’ll be going now. I’ve been quite rude today, haven’t I? Hoho.”

“I forgive you.”

‘Not the rest of it.’

Until now, in moments like this, she would always have said—

‘What are you saying? I’m fine, Lorina.’

Lorina’s eyes flashed with anger at Eliza’s audacity in acting as though she were entitled to grant or withhold forgiveness.

Just because she had seized on a single weakness — how shamelessly she was behaving!

However, Lorina kept her feelings to herself in the situation, smiling and saying,

“I’ll come pick you up soon, all right?”

“No, I don’t need any clothes. I’ll pass.”

“Don’t worry about it! Then get some rest.”

With a bright smile, Lorina left.

‘Honestly…!’

Eliza felt irritated, but she let Lorina go without stopping her. After locking the door, she went to the dining room.

She stood there and watched Marie set the dinner table.

The way Marie had casually inserted herself into the conversation between mistress and guest earlier on had left Eliza with too many thoughts.

‘So Marie looks down on me too… or perhaps she’s already been bought off, feeding information to Lorina.’

Eliza had only learned of Marie being bribed through Lorina’s mocking remarks, so she didn’t know exactly when it had happened.

Feeling her gaze, Marie turned and asked,

“Is there anything you need, my lady?”

“No. I’m hungry. Please prepare the meal.”

“You must be, after going out to the city. Just a moment, please.”

“Marie.”

“Yes?”

“Be more careful about locking the doors from now on. What if the person who barged in earlier hadn’t been Miss Winclaire?”

“Ah… yes. I must have forgotten.”

Unaccustomed to being reprimanded, Marie’s face flushed slightly as she hurried back into the kitchen.

After a simple dinner, Eliza went up to her bedroom.

Her eyes fell, without thought, on the portrait hanging on the wall—and a complicated feeling settled over her.

‘Did Lorina really want to hide her relationship with the young marquis from James so badly that she was willing to bribe me?’

In the painting, James seemed to be looking straight at her—as though mocking the turmoil inside her.

All the intense emotions she had once felt toward him stirred again, and she could almost hear his low, taunting voice.

‘You’re my woman. So you should cling to me.’