Eloise rose to her feet as if possessed and took down the portrait hanging on the wall.

Neatly combed bright blond hair. Transparent blue eyes. His large, round eyes carried the resolute conviction of a man who had not feared even before tens of thousands of enemies, and his firmly closed lips exuded the determination of one who had led an infantry battalion.

Upon seeing the portrait once before, Emily commented, “Isn’t he just a somewhat handsome blond man? I don’t see it.” However, to Eloise, as long as he was Ryan Wilgrave, he appeared to be the most remarkable man.

Her father and mother assumed that, having grown up in this rural town, Eloise admired a hero who had distinguished himself in the vast world beyond.

That much was true. However, the achievements that Eloise cherished differed somewhat from what others praised.

‘He always minimized casualties.’

Collecting newspapers that took a month to reach Feltham after publication, Eloise meticulously tracked his every move.

Where had his battalion been deployed, whom had they aided, and how many casualties had resulted afterward.

The 57th Infantry Battalion had sustained relatively low casualties, and the battles he participated in consistently recorded fewer losses than others.

Occasionally, newspaper editorials criticized him, claiming that he had retreated too swiftly in battles where he should have advanced bravely as if he had prioritized his own life.

At first, it was merely a handful of voices, but the criticism resurfaced after the war ended, and achievements were reviewed for honors.

People’s sentiments often change upon entering and leaving a situation.

Those who once hailed his name during the war, once it had ended, declared that they had merely been swept up in the fervor of the moment and publicly withdrew their past support.

Some editorials even took on a scolding tone, lamenting how young women were blindly captivated by his appearance and offering their unconditional support.

“Ah, this is no time for this.”

Eloise lost in thoughts about the editorials on Lieutenant Colonel Ryan, smoothed the wrinkles on her brow and busied her hands once more.

Of course, what she had gathered were male nudes overlaid with Lieutenant Colonel Ryan’s face.

The moment she returned home, she would burn them all!

‘First, I need to load these onto the carriage.’

Hurriedly tying the bundle of paintings with a cord, Eloise picked them up.

Individually, they had been light sheets of paper, but bundled together, they had gained considerable weight. And the volume was far from negligible.

For anything else, she would have called a servant for help, but that was absolutely not an option in this case.

Eloise exited the painting room and silenced her footsteps as she carefully approached the stairs.

The moment she stepped down the first stair—

“Stop right there, thief.”

A stranger’s voice rang out.

“Ahhh!”

Startled by the sudden voice from behind, Eloise screamed. At the same time, her foot, just stepping onto the stair below, slipped, causing her to sway precariously.

She needed to throw what she was holding and grab onto something—

‘No!’

Instead, Eloise clutched the bundle of paintings even tighter against her chest.

Her body lurched forward.

She knew better than anyone how solidly Blissbury’s stairs were made of stone, so she braced herself for the impending pain and shut her eyes.

But—

Whoosh.

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

Like a child’s doll, she was effortlessly lifted and set upright in the hallway beside the stairs.

“……Huh?”

Eloise slowly opened her tightly shut eyes, feeling no impact when she had expected it. Just who—?

And then she saw the man standing beside her.

In that instant—

“KYAAAAAH!”

Eloise let out an even louder scream that shook the entire manor.

A man in filthy clothes, his piercing gaze locked onto her.

Even a street beggar would look cleaner than this wretched figure, and Eloise panicked.

Who was he? How had he entered Blissbury? More importantly, was this hand gripping her arm right now—?

Her gaze dropped to her arm.

A grimy hand, caked with dried mud, gripped her exposed skin.

No matter how recklessly she had lived, Eloise was still a lady.

That meant she was not the kind of person who could remain unbothered when an unknown man touched her so brazenly.

“Let go!”

Eloise struck the man’s arm with force with the bundle in her arms.

Thud!

The man released his grip and stumbled backward.

At the same time, the cord around the bundle loosened, and the paintings spilled down the stairs in a cascade.

“No!”

When she saw her paintings scatter across the steps, Eloise immediately crouched, frantically gathering them.

Fortunately, the drawings weren’t too scattered. Just as Eloise finished organizing the last one and turned around—

“This… Is this Ryan Wilgrave?”

“…!”

Eloise lifted her head in shock at the sound of a man’s voice.

In his hand—when had he even picked it up?—was one of her drawings. The man looked at her with an expression full of contempt.

“So, you’re not just a thief—you’re a depraved and lecherous one. Do you enjoy spending your lonely nights with these kinds of paintings?”

Frozen is in place because of the shame of exposing her artwork, and Eloise doesn’t immediately grasp what he is saying.

Then, when she finally understood the meaning of his words, her entire face flushed crimson, from her neck to the tips of her ears.

She had never been this insulted in her life!

Not even a drunk vagrant would say something like that!

Eloise was certain. From his filthy appearance, his vulgar words, and his blatant disrespect toward women—this man was nothing but a scoundrel who had infiltrated Blissbury with ill intent.

If not that, then he was an absolute disgrace of a deserter!

The moment her conviction solidified, Eloise hesitated no longer.

“Mrs. Parker! Mr. Warren! Mr. Palmer! There’s an intruder here!”

Her voice rang loudly through Blissbury.

Proper ladylike decorum was long forgotten. This place was as dear to her as her home—perhaps even more so.

‘An intruder here? Unacceptable.’

Thankfully, she soon heard the sound of people rushing in. Eloise glared at the man and grabbed a small stone statue nearby, ready to use it as a weapon.

The man, taken aback by her reaction, looked her up and down. His expression made it clear he didn’t understand why she had called for help.

At that moment, people arrived from downstairs. Eloise, now emboldened, pointed at the man and shouted—

“This vagrant—!”

“This maid—what is she doing?”

Just as Eloise spoke, the man also turned to the newcomers with his own question.

The two of them stared at each other in confusion.

“Vagrant?”

“Maid?”

Their muttered words carried the same disbelief.

The people who had gathered glanced between them, looking troubled.

Then, Mr. Palmer, the first to grasp the situation, cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“It seems there has been a misunderstanding between the two of you. Miss Eloise, this is Sergeant Ryan Thornton, who has just arrived. And Sergeant Thornton, this is Miss Eloise Surberton, the steward’s daughter, Mr. Surberton.”

At Mr. Palmer’s words, Eloise and Ryan slowly turned to look at each other. Then, in unison, they spoke.

“This maid is the steward’s daughter?”

“This vagrant is the new steward?”

Both sounded incredulous, but they simultaneously realized how they must have looked.

Eloise hurriedly smoothed her disheveled dress and tried to tame her wildly tousled hair while Ryan brushed the mud off his clothes.

Not that it made much of a difference.

After another glance at each other, they both straightened and, with completely different attitudes from before, exchanged formal greetings.

Eloise grasped the hem of her dress and curtsied slightly while Ryan placed one hand over his chest and bowed.

It was an impeccably composed, perfectly executed display of decorum as if proving their true status to each other.

But the civility lasted only for a moment. Their actions were flawless, yet their gazes remained sharp, filled with unspoken sparks.

Ryan was the first to break the silence.

“Here. I’ll return this to you.”

This?

At his words, Eloise’s gaze dropped more precisely to the drawing he was holding.

“…!”

When confronted again with her forgotten embarrassment, Eloise snatched the drawing from his hand, ignoring all propriety.

Her heart pounded wildly.

‘Mr. Palmer or Mrs. Parker didn’t see this, did they?’

She hurriedly glanced around. Fortunately, the others were only watching the situation unfold, seemingly unaware of what was on the paper.

Just as Eloise let out a breath of relief, Ryan spoke again.

“I see you’ve never met the model, Miss Eloise.”

His gaze flickered downward briefly before he added—

“It’s not that small.”

With that, he turned away as if he had nothing more to say to her.

Mr. Palmer, who had been watching, quickly bowed to Eloise before hurrying after him.

“Oh dear, Miss Eloise! I told you, at least drape a shawl over your shoulders! And your hair—why is it such a mess…?”

Mrs. Parker scolded her from the side, saying she had set herself up for misunderstanding.

But Eloise barely heard her.

All that replayed in her mind was Ryan Thornton’s parting remark.

‘Not that small? What wasn’t?’

Then, as her gaze dropped to the drawing still in her hands—

“…!”

Eloise’s face turned even redder than a ripe autumn apple.

The Ryan Wilgrave she had drawn stood fully exposed, not a single piece of clothing covering him.

And beneath him was something that had made Eloise shut her eyes tightly more than once while sketching.

‘Not that small, he said?’