James believed that marriage came with responsibilities and duties. As long as he fulfilled his obligations, he felt that his wife’s behavior was her own responsibility — unless there was a serious health issue.

This was why he had insisted she go to hospital.

Already irritated by the delays to his carefully planned schedule, he was unexpectedly stirred when she spoke with flushed cheeks.

“If it’s about the resource development agreement, I’m sure it will be resolved soon.”

He had only just realized that something like that could provoke him.

In any case, he had never told her about the investment plan he was preparing in Silomon, yet she had sensed it.

‘Ha. “Silomon’s rainy season,” was it?

James was not the kind of man to harbor suspicions.

Now, however, in the quiet hours before dawn, the sharp edge of his emotions had dulled and his restlessness had subsided.

This was thanks to the warmth she had given him.

To be honest, something as trivial as oversleeping no longer felt worth addressing.

Carefully, he reached out and brushed the back of his fingers along Eliza’s cheek as she slept, unaware of her surroundings.

The Eliza Ashton he had examined so thoroughly was still his — healthy and unchanged — and the world continued to turn as he had expected it to.

Perhaps his suspicions and heightened sensitivity had eased simply because he had held her in his arms moments before; a feeling that had brought him great satisfaction.

However, James was not a man who examined his emotions deeply.

If Eliza affirmed and preserved their relationship in quiet, indirect ways — such as pressing his shirts to perfection — then he affirmed her place beside him in the most direct way possible, like a conqueror staking his claim.

At that moment, he experienced a sense of satisfaction unlike anything he had ever known.

However, he did not realize that this way of ‘communicating’ might one day become his greatest weakness.

***

Eliza woke up late and recalled the previous night, a chill running down her spine.

The way James had looked at her with such probing suspicion was enough to make her shudder.

“Why are you so sure it will be resolved?”
“You’re strangely perceptive about the most unexpected things…!”

Startled once again by his sharp perception, Eliza resolved to be far more careful with her words.

If she wanted to deceive them both and escape completely, she had to remain exactly what they believed her to be: a faint presence; a woman too insignificant to be taken seriously.

To achieve this, she had to flawlessly maintain the image of her former self. She couldn’t afford to make careless mistakes like the one she had made the previous day.

And yet, the memory of his gaze and the warmth of his breath from the night before rose unbidden, leaving her unsettled.

Why did he look at her as though she were the only woman in the world in moments like that?

“…Bastard.”

Muttering the curse under her breath, Eliza slipped out of bed with resolve. At times like this, the best thing she could do was move.

“I need to see the young marquis.”

She took more care than usual with her appearance, arranging her hair neatly, before heading out to meet Aedrin. After all, he was a nobleman.

Just then, however, she heard a carriage stop outside.

Looking out of the window, she saw Lorina and almost froze.

‘Now she wants to go dress shopping?’

For a moment, Eliza considered pretending she wasn’t home.

But she rarely went out, and Lorina would surely return persistently if she missed her today.

‘No choice but to face her head-on.’

Going downstairs, Eliza shot an annoyed glance at the door as Lorina rang the bell, then deliberately loosened her freshly styled hair just a little.

She hurried to open the door.

Lorina’s eyes widened at the sight of Eliza’s slightly disheveled appearance.

“Eliza? Did I come too early? But you usually wake at dawn…”

Looking at Lorina’s unchanged shamelessness, Eliza decided to make use of the lingering discomfort she had felt earlier.

She averted her gaze slightly, letting a faint, meaningful smile play on her lips. Then, after letting Lorina inside, she spoke shyly,

“No, it’s just… James—lately, he’s been rather… energetic…”

Catching the implication, Lorina’s face flushed red as she turned her head away. Eliza pretended not to notice and headed toward the kitchen.

“Oh my, what am I saying to an unmarried lady? I’ll bring the tea. Just a moment.”

While the water boiled, Eliza quickly fixed her hair again, smoothing it neatly back into place. Then she returned with a bright smile, serving the tea.

Just as she had expected, Lorina’s mood had clearly soured.

‘You can’t even show your jealousy… that must be unbearable, isn’t it?’

“The tea turned out well. Drink, Lorina.”

“Thank you.”

“…”

“…”

In the long, awkward silence that followed, Eliza found herself hoping this discomfort would last forever.

‘Lorina… after this, do you still want to buy me a new dress?’

But Lorina was not an easy opponent.

Before long, she broke into a bright smile and said with a hint of excitement,

“I’ve already made a reservation at Madame Castile’s boutique, just like I promised. Shall we go as soon as we finish our tea?”

“….”

She didn’t know who that promise had been made to—but the fact that Lorina had gone ahead and made a reservation on her own said enough.

With a troubled expression, Eliza shook her head.

“A bribe between friends? That doesn’t make sense, Lorina.”

“A bribe? Eliza, it’s not like that—”

Cutting her off, Eliza spoke with complete seriousness,

“I’ll make sure not to say a word to James. Don’t worry. So please, cancel the reservation, Lorina.”

In hindsight, Eliza Ashton realized that she had never known how to say no.

Whenever Lorina asked her for something, she agreed, even if it meant finding herself in an uncomfortable or difficult situation.

She did it because she was grateful. Because she felt sorry.

But now that she knew Lorina’s true intentions, that was no longer possible.

Lorina’s brows immediately drew together in displeasure.

“I practically begged Madame last night to squeeze in that reservation. There’s the reputation of the Winclaire family to consider—I can’t cancel it on the same day after going that far, Eliza.”

Eliza widened her eyes slightly.

She could have responded like this: When did I ever say I would go? Why are you ignoring my refusal?

But suddenly, another thought came to her.

Eliza realized she was beginning to take a certain… enjoyment in playing with Lorina.

Letting that awkwardness show, she spoke,

“Oh, Lorina… I didn’t realize you’d be put in such a difficult position.”

At that, Lorina’s frown eased, hope flickering in her expression.

Then Eliza lowered her gaze, looking as if she might cry, and murmured softly,

“But I clearly refused yesterday…!”

“…!”

Startled, Lorina’s eyes widened slightly, but before she could speak, Eliza hurried on,

“But if that’s your situation, what can we do? I can’t let my dear friend lose face. Lorina, let’s finish our tea and go. For your sake, I’ll wear a dress from Madame Castile.”

“…I… see.”

With the words for your sake turned back on her, Lorina could only force an awkward smile and sip her tea.

Watching her from the corner of her eye, Eliza felt a small sense of relief.

‘It must be driving you mad, isn’t it? That I’m not the same as before.’

From the beginning, Eliza had no intention of telling James about the young marquis.

There was simply no need.

But if she could get under Lorina’s skin, Eliza thought the process itself was more than worth enjoying.

***

Madame Castile’s boutique was located at the very end of Portbell Street.

For such a prestigious shop, the signboard and exterior were almost absurdly shabby — so much so that it seemed deliberate, as if modesty were a form of display in itself.

An elderly saleswoman with white hair greeted them as they stepped inside.

“Miss Winclaire. And…”

“Mrs. Ashton.”

Eliza said softly.

The woman gave a slight bow.

“Mrs. Ashton. This way, please. Madame will be with you shortly.”

Following behind, Lorina immed’iately began boasting—whispering quickly about Madame Castile’s remarkable skill and the influential clients she had served.

‘Yes, yes…’

Eliza let it wash over her as she arrived at the showroom.

She had already decided on a single criterion for choosing a dress today, so the moment she stepped inside, her choice was made.

“Oh my…! Lorina, if you gave me this, I’d be so happy I might cry!”

Eliza walked straight towards the most extravagant-looking gown in the room, a red evening dress displayed alone on a headless mannequin.

Lorina’s eyes widened, leaving her momentarily speechless.

Judging by her reaction, Eliza was certain that the delicate pearls adorning the neckline were real. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the price.

‘Just selling this alone would fund my escape.’

And Lorina’s pride would never allow her to say, That’s too expensive.

Instead, all she could do was glare at Eliza, her gaze filled with frustration and silent accusation—Can’t you read the room, Eliza?!

Seeing that, Eliza found herself liking this boutique more and more.

She deliberately fell silent, her expression trembling as if she might cry.

‘Why should I show you any consideration? You’re the one who complained that your paralyzed friend wasn’t dying fast enough—didn’t you say that even in death, she was too indecisive?’

Taking a step back from the dress, Eliza lowered her head.

In a small, sorrowful voice, she murmured,

“I’m sorry. When you said it was a gift from the Winclaire family… I suppose I let my expectations grow too high.”

‘You brag about your father’s wealth so often—I thought something like this would be nothing to you. Should I pick the cheapest thing instead?’

“I’m sorry, Lorina! …That shawl over there caught my eye. What do you think? It’s lovely!”

“…No…”

A young lady of the Winclaire family could hardly bring a friend to a place like this, only to leave with nothing but a single shawl.

In the end, unable to maintain her composure, Lorina stared at the opposite wall—anywhere but Eliza—and burst out,

“Honestly!”

‘Honestly? I should be the one saying that.’

Fingering the shawl in the corner, Eliza gathered every ounce of strength she had not to laugh.