The next morning, from early on, people visited Mr. Surberton’s house as if they had urgent business.

However, despite their expressions, their errands were trivial.

Some came to borrow a Bible, others returned a borrowed pen, and some asked if they could check whether a missing duck from their home had wandered into this house.

Yet, given that all the visitors were either mothers with daughters or the daughters themselves looking for a husband, anyone could guess their true intentions.

They discreetly observed Emily, who was busily setting the table, noting what tableware she had placed and where the guests would be seated.

Then, they called over a young errand boy and pried into what kind of meat Mr. Surberton had ordered for his guest.

“He ordered a lamb.”

“He ordered a lamb! That means he’s welcoming the guest with great sincerity.”

The townspeople quickly understood that the newly arrived steward had exceptionally pleased Mr. Surberton.

“Mr. Surberton is always polite to everyone. Maybe he’s just showing proper courtesy to the next steward.”

“But when that professor passing through Camborne visited last time, he didn’t order lamb. So this time, the guest must be someone he truly likes.”

“Did you see the silverware Emily laid out? She polished it so well it was practically blinding.”

That evening’s dinner at Mr. Surberton’s house had already become the hottest topic of gossip among the people of Feltham.

While everyone else was excited about the new steward’s arrival, Eloise was dying inside.

“…How did this happen?”

Her father had returned from Blissbury the previous day with a calm expression as if he hadn’t heard a word from Sergeant Thornton.

He seemed to think he had merely left behind a landscape painting in the painting room and didn’t ask any further about the artwork being returned.

‘Did he decide to cover it up?’

It would be rather embarrassing to hand over the painting while saying, “By the way, your daughter drew this.”

So perhaps the man intended to return it quietly without mentioning anything to her father.

‘If that’s the case, then that’s a relief…’

But why return it at all?

If he had intended to ignore it, he could have burned it. Or, if he wanted to return it discreetly, he could have just done so without making it an issue. The fact that he had specifically asked for it to be conveyed to her father hinted at a rather twisted personality.

And that wasn’t the only strange thing.

“He is quite the refined young man. From his speech to his manners, you could tell he was well-educated. As expected, someone Baron Stanford could trust.”

What part of that filthy-looking man was refined?

…She couldn’t bring herself to ask that aloud. If she did, she would have to explain everything that had happened between them.

Mr. Surberton continued to praise Sergeant Thornton endlessly.

Though they had only spoken for a few hours, it seemed her father had taken quite a liking to him.

Considering how careful he usually was when meeting people, the fact that he had so quickly invited him to dinner was telling.

In any case, as the sun set, the aroma of well-roasted lamb filled the kitchen.

Eloise sat in a chair in the living room, gazing outside.

‘But what exactly did he look like?’

She remembered his black hair and blue eyes.

The problem was that the situation had been so chaotic that she couldn’t recall much else clearly.

And his appearance had been terrible—he had looked no better than a cow that had rolled in the mud.

Of course, he must have washed up and changed clothes before meeting her father, but thinking of how he had grabbed and shouted at her, she simply couldn’t imagine him as the “refined young man” her father described.

The sun set quickly since it was still early spring, casting a glow over the hills.

Eloise picked up a shawl and stepped outside.

Normally, Emily would have scolded her for returning inside because of the cold, but she was too preoccupied with cooking.

Her mother, too, was busy giving orders to the maids and servants, ensuring that dinner preparations were going smoothly.

Outside, the sky was painted in fiery hues.

Eloise faced the setting sun over the barley fields in front of the house.

She had been agonizing over what to do all day, feeling like the sky was falling.

But now, standing in the open fields with the wind brushing past her under the sunset, her earlier worries suddenly felt meaningless.

‘If he wants to say something, let him say it.’

It wasn’t as if her father and mother would cast her out because of it.

She had only drawn as much as the books had instructed her to.

‘Although… drawing Lieutenant Colonel Ryan over that might have been a bit embarrassing.’

Now, the only remaining evidence was the one painting the man intended to return.

‘I’ll burn it the moment I get it.’

The fireplace in the living room was burning as bright as ever.

If she threw it in the moment she received it, there would be no trace of her shame left in the world.

As she thought this and smiled in satisfaction—

“You being here means I’ve found the right place.”

“…!”

Eloise turned her head in surprise at the sudden voice beside her.

A man she had never seen before stood there.

His crisp shirt, well-tailored jacket, and sharply pressed trousers looked like he had just stepped out of Camborne’s finest tailor shop.

Only a handful of people in Feltham dressed so impeccably, and among young men, they were practically nonexistent.

That meant he ought to be someone she recognized. Yet, the man before her was a stranger.

However, unlike her bewilderment, the man behaved as if he already knew her.

“Excuse me, but have we met before?”

She knew asking such a question would be terribly rude if he had been introduced to her elsewhere. But she was sure—this man was someone she had never seen before.

And it wasn’t just an assumption. His appearance was one that, once seen, could never be forgotten.

For one, he was strikingly tall—tall enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to look at him properly.

In Feltham, that alone was enough to leave a deep impression on others. Among young men, he was likely the tallest by far.

But if one saw him up close like this, his height wouldn’t leave the strongest impression—it would be his face.

The first thing that stood out was his jet-black hair, contrasting sharply with his clear blue eyes.

It was a color one might expect in the gaze of a goddess from a classical painting. Yet, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose unmistakably emphasized his masculinity.

A face where two opposite charms blended seamlessly—so much so that it could easily draw an admiring sigh from any onlooker.

‘Who is he?’

She had long since withdrawn from the marriage market, but that didn’t mean she had abandoned her ability to judge men.

A man with such striking features—she would never have forgotten.

Realizing belatedly that she had been staring at him quite rudely, Eloise quickly averted her gaze.

And then, suddenly, she realized—she had met his eyes before.

Quite recently, in fact. But when…?

Just then, the man gave a cynical smile and spoke again.

“I didn’t expect you not to recognize me just because I changed my clothes.”

His voice was full of sarcasm.

A tone dripping with condescension, as if he found her utterly pathetic. The moment she heard it, Eloise finally realized who he was.

“Oh! The steward from Blissbury!”

So that’s who he was. The rude man who had grabbed her arm and accused her of being a thieving maid!

“Ryan… Thornton.”

The man gave a slight nod as he introduced himself. Then, after rummaging through his coat, he pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to her.

“I’m glad I ran into you before heading inside. I wondered how best to return this rather embarrassing item to you.”

When Eloise realized what he was holding, she gasped and snatched the drawing from his hand like a hawk catching a chick.

Hurriedly shoving it under her shawl before anyone could see, she glanced around.

Perhaps heaven was on her side.

It was dinner time, and those lingering around all day had gone home. Even her family members were too busy preparing for their guests to pay attention to anything outside.

Once she confirmed that no one had seen Thornton hand her the drawing, Eloise cleared her throat and put on an indifferent expression.

“Ah, um… Thank you for returning it.”

“Don’t mention it. The thought of something so improper lying around the house I’m staying in was rather unpleasant, to say the least.”

His tone was so genuinely appalled that Eloise felt a surge of irritation.

She admitted it—no proper lady would ever draw something like that.

She had no right to complain if he wanted to look down on her for it.

But why was he acting as if he were the one who had been insulted?

From his attitude, one might think he was Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Wilgrave himself.

Then, he spoke again.

“Mr. Surberton is a fine gentleman.”

The sudden praise of her father made Eloise look at him in confusion, but he continued speaking as if he hadn’t noticed.

“The moment I met him, I realized I would benefit greatly from his assistance during my stay in Blissbury. So, I thought it best to maintain an amicable relationship with his family as well—including his daughter, who has a rather voyeuristic perspective on the opposite s*x.”

“…!”

Eloise stared at him, but his expression remained utterly unchanged as he continued to meet her gaze with an unyielding look.

“So, let’s just pretend the incident at Blissbury never happened, Miss Surberton.”

His voice carried the tone of someone bestowing incredible generosity before he turned away.

It was as if he had already deemed any further conversation with her a waste of time.

Eloise clutched the drawing hidden beneath her shawl, unable to say a word.

And in that moment, she was sure.

There was no way she and this man would ever have an “amicable relationship”—not until the day he left Blissbury for good.