***

“The young Marquis Phelin claims you’re his ‘good friend.’”

‘Aedrin…?’

Now, James no longer bothered to hide the mockery and cold amusement in his tone.

But there was something slightly different about it than usual.

If one wasn’t careful, it might even sound like jealousy.

“Come to think of it, you have quite a number of noble friends.”

‘…Three, actually.’

Eliza startled herself by instinctively thinking of Deonar in that moment, then immediately reproached herself.

Carefully, she asked,

“You met Marquis Phelin?”

“Why? Was your relationship with him a secret from me?”

‘What is he even saying?’

Her mind felt like it was overheating, as if steam might start pouring out of it.

In moments like this, she didn’t even know what she was supposed to say.

The “friend” he mentioned wasn’t Lorina—but Aedrin Phelin.

Why would the young marquis meet with James?

“James…”

“I know. That the marquis is on good terms with Miss Winclaire. He invited us to dinner.”

“…!”

For a moment, dizziness swept over Eliza.

‘A double date? What on earth is happening here?’

“Marquis Phelin invited us?”

“My new clients are the Marquis and Count Winclaire. The two approached me for consultation, planning a joint venture. The fools at Weburn nearly lost their minds when they heard.”

James let out a satisfied scoff as he mentioned Weburn Bank.

Weburn, which carried the traditions and legacy of an earlier era, was often called Roycobs’ rival—but more precisely, it was James’s rival.

Eliza realized, with a sinking heart, that she had failed to delay Lorina’s approach by drawing Aedrin in.

In her past life, Lorina had used a business consultation with Count Winclaire as an excuse to approach James and arrange a meeting with the count.

This time, only the intermediary had changed—to Aedrin.

Staring blankly into the air, Eliza asked, her mouth already dry,

“What kind of person is Count Winclaire? Miss Winclaire said he’s quite particular about people…”

“Are you asking for my evaluation of a client?”

James asked with a faint smile.

But Eliza immediately realized that this was the moment to stay silent.

Eliza never interfered in her husband’s work.

Alone, she bit her lip.

‘Has it already become something that can’t be undone?’

“We’ll be dining at the Sand Swan Club. Eight o’clock.”

“….”

Eliza shut her eyes tightly.

‘Lorina… sitting at the same table as James? That sounds like being told to dine with a cannibal.’

Then Aedrin’s face surfaced in her mind.

‘I won’t be the only one suffering there. Lorina has to show up in front of James as Aedrin’s partner.’

At that thought, her resolve flared.

How could she possibly miss the look on Lorina’s face that night, sitting across from James?

“Did the marquis say I was his friend?”

James furrowed his brow slightly, opened his eyes, and turned Eliza to face him.

The faint stiffness in his expression sent a chill down her spine.

But at that moment, James was recalling his conversation with the marquis.

While consulting with Count Winclaire and Marquis Phelin, James had not shown much enthusiasm.
He explained only what was necessary—the core points—so curtly that the count had inwardly found him arrogant.

After their scheduled time ended, the marquis stayed behind and spoke to him.

“Regardless of business, I consider you a friend, Mr. Ashton.”

James had taken it as nothing more than a polite courtesy—perhaps the man was simply sociable from having lived abroad.

But then the marquis added,

“Because you are the husband of my good friend, Mrs. Ashton.”

“….”

At the time, the marquis had turned his gaze out the window, as if to hide the softening of his expression, and so he failed to notice the sharpness that entered James’s eyes.

“I’ve been receiving help from Mrs. Ashton regarding Miss Winclaire.”

“…Did you say Miss Winclaire?”

The marquis nodded, his expression carrying a depth of unspoken emotion.

“Yes. A woman as radiant as the very flower of Athern.”

When James saw Aedrin’s smile, he found himself completely convinced—believing that the marquis had only sought Eliza’s help to grow closer to Miss Winclaire.

‘If that’s the case, then why was there any need to hide it from me?’

“I could not help but trust you as well, Mr. Ashton, after seeing the insight and judgment of Mrs. Ashton. How could I doubt the man chosen by such a wise lady?”

“….”

“That is why I persuaded Count Winclaire to come to Roycobs Bank instead of Weburn. Mr. Ashton.”

So Eliza had been meeting an unmarried noble behind his back.

James had been so shocked to learn that his wife had a social life he knew nothing about that it took him a moment to process Aedrin’s latter words.

He replied with a cold smile.

“I treat all clients equally, regardless of personal closeness, Marquis. Even if they happen to be friends of my wife.”

The marquis’s eyes widened before he burst into laughter.

“Mr. Ashton, I find I trust you even more now.”

After securing his promise to keep their acquaintance a secret from the count, the marquis proposed a couples’ dinner at an exclusive social club.

From James’s perspective, there was no reason to refuse building a relationship with him.

It was obvious that Count Winclaire had only come to Roycobs to test the waters.

But the marquis—who was just beginning to establish himself in Athern—was different.

If he could make a trustworthy gentleman like the marquis into a key client, there would be many opportunities worth pursuing in the future.

And the marquis’s personal status was also appealing.

Even his wife, who was almost socially avoidant, should be able to endure a dinner if the company consisted of acquaintances.

Only then did James offer a restrained smile and shake Aedrin’s hand.

Count Winclaire—a true heavyweight.

After Aedrin left, James felt a complicated sense of satisfaction.

It was difficult to immediately accept that his timid wife had accomplished something no one at Roycobs had managed to do.

And now—with Eliza sitting on his lap—the tension in her small body, the awkward silence between them, began to grate on him.

Her timid demeanor was no different from usual.

Yet the capability she had shown was entirely at odds with that image.

He didn’t like the fact that he could feel surprised—unfamiliar—with his own wife.

He liked it even less that he felt that way while holding her in his arms.

So, contrary to the anticipation he had felt when calling her here, his mood turned sharp again.

And in that state, he recalled that he had been the one to send her a telegram first today.

Because she hadn’t come to him on her own.

Before, she would make up any excuse just to visit.

But these days—had she not even wondered whether her husband was alive or dead at the bank?

“….”

Only then did James realize that he had never once waited for Eliza until now.

She had always seemed like a being made solely for him—always by his side, always watching him. Sometimes to the point of irritation.

But recently… she had changed.

James lifted Eliza to her feet.

Sensing the sharpness in him, Eliza looked up at him with frightened eyes—like a young boy caught stealing.

Following her gaze, he realized that he was gripping her wrist as if restraining a thief.

Startled, he loosened his hold at once.

“You may go back, Eliza. Don’t forget the appointment.”

Watching his wife hurry out of the office as if fleeing, he realized that his unease had not been resolved in the slightest.

“Ha…”

Meanwhile, the moment Eliza stepped out of the office, she felt as if she could finally breathe again and quickened her pace.

“Ma’am!”

Sierra called out after her.

“Here’s the garment bag.”

“Ah, thank you.”

‘Right. I was just the laundry maid, wasn’t I?’

Clutching the garment bag in frustration, Eliza left the bank.

***

Out on the busy street, where carriages passed one after another, Eliza paused and let the wind cool the cold sweat on her skin.

“….”

She rubbed her wrist, which had felt as though it were burning.

Yet, to her surprise, there wasn’t a single mark left behind.

Thinking back, he had never once gripped her hard enough to leave a trace.

And yet the sensation had felt so intense.

A passing breeze brushed against her, carrying the faint scent of James’s cologne.

Eliza shook her head repeatedly and decided to walk a little longer until the scent faded.

Then, a street vendor’s shout caught her attention.

“Art auction…?”

She paused, watching for a moment—then decisively crossed the street and hailed a carriage on the other side.

A good idea had just come to her—one that could grow her money.

“Take me to Portbell.”

When she arrived, Eliza entered a boutique—refined enough, but not the sort Lorina would frequent—and purchased a dress.

She didn’t have anything suitable for a gathering that fell somewhere between a dinner party and a formal tea.

For a moment, she had to catch her breath upon hearing that the vibrant yet modest dark green satin dress cost twenty thousand derk.

But spending that much on clothing no longer felt like something she couldn’t justify.

Because the money she was using didn’t come from someone else’s hard labor, it was from her own morally gray funds.

Her gambling money.

Her hidden reserve.

The dress wasn’t as dazzling or extravagant as something Lorina would wear, something that could turn anyone’s head at a glance.

But it suited her.

And it could take her where she needed to go.

For Eliza, that was enough.