Episode 5

Clop. Clop.

At the familiar sound of approaching hoofbeats, Emily, who had been scattering mixed grains for the geese, set her basket on the windowsill and hurried outside.

"Miss!"

Ever since Eloise had abruptly driven the freight wagon to Blissbury all by herself, Emily had been too worried to focus on her work.

‘She always catches a cold so easily in the spring!’

During summer and autumn, Eloise roamed the fields like a newborn foal. But in winter and spring, even the slightest chill would leave her bedridden.

Knowing that all too well, Mrs. Surbiton and Emily had fussed over her all winter. Yet she'd gone out without so much as a shawl or even a hat! And on top of that, she'd driven the freight wagon herself!

Emily suddenly remembered something her friend, the maid who worked across the road at the Ogilvie’s house, had sneered at her.

...“Doesn't the quality of a maid depend on the sort of young lady she serves?"...

With those words, her friend had gone on and on about how refined and elegant the Ogilvie daughters were.

She'd phrased it politely enough, but the meaning had been simple.

‘I feel sorry for you, having to serve a lady like Eloise.’

Naturally, Emily had lunged at her and grabbed a fistful of her obnoxious hair.

..."Our young lady is a thousand times better than your ladies, who are so spiteful that even their own fiancé dumped them! And our miss only dresses simply. If she went to Cambourne and bought a few new dresses, do you think your ladies would even dare stand beside her?"...

...“That may be, but she's twenty-six and still can't get married!"...

Their childish quarrel had only ended when the mistresses of both households returned.

Refined ladies hated hearing their maids raising their voices.

Ever since that day, Emily had secretly simmered with indignation. She had even gathered Eloise's finest hats and shawls and placed them by the front entrance.

And yet, without realizing Emily's intentions, her mistress had gone out wearing only a single layer of clothing, looking practically like a maid.

‘Today, even if she says I'm being insolent, I'm going to give her a good scolding.’

Resolving herself, Emily marched toward the wagon.

‘Did she bring back that much from Blissbury?’

The back of the freight wagon, which had been empty when it left, was now piled with something.

"Miss! I told you over and over to at least take a shawl with you... Miss?"

She had expected Eloise to shake her head and say, “Please stop nagging me.”

Instead, Eloise wore an expression as though she had seen a ghost.

She hurriedly unloaded a large bundle of papers from the wagon, then rushed into the house.

Standing before the drawing room fireplace, she stopped Emily from following.

"Don't come in."

"...Pardon? Miss, what is all that-"

"Please, Emily. Could you wait outside until I call for you?"

Her expression and voice were unusually stiff.

Forgetting all about her planned lecture, Emily quietly withdrew.

The moment she left, Eloise untied the bundle and threw the papers into the fireplace one handful at a time.

Whoosh!

The flames instantly swallowed them.

The sudden heat flushed Eloise's face.

She continued feeding papers into the fire.

The sketch bearing her own likeness...

And the sketch of Colonel Ryan...

Both were reduced to ashes in moments.

Even that wasn't enough.

She took the poker and crushed the remaining ash until no recognizable shape remained.

"Cough!"

The heat sent ash swirling into the air, making her cough violently, but her hands never stopped moving.

Only after the fire had burned itself down did Eloise collapse into a chair and mutter,

"...What kind of man is he...?"

The words were meant for the shameless rogue who, even after she'd left Blissbury, still refused to leave her thoughts.

***

“What kind of woman is she...?"

At that very same time, Ryan returned to his room after washing up, drying his hair with a towel.

The room had preserved the beauty it must have possessed when the house was first built.

Furniture long out of fashion might normally have looked outdated, but everything had been so carefully maintained that it instead carried an air of timeless elegance.

He had noticed it the moment he arrived.

The servants and the estate manager clearly cared deeply for this manor.

Which was why, the instant he'd seen that suspicious woman coming down the stairs, he'd felt irritated, as though he were already one of the household.

She was dressed too well for a maid...

Yet there she was, with disheveled hair, no hat, and no shawl.

Of all the ladies he'd ever met, not a single one would have walked around dressed like that.

Naturally, he'd concluded she was a maid who had stolen her mistress's clothes.

He had intended to catch her sneaking things out of the house and hand her over to the constables.

He reached into the pocket of his military uniform, now filthy from helping pull the wagon out of the mud.

Inside, he found the crumpled drawing the woman had failed to take with her.

Ryan frowned at the sheet depicting a naked man as though he were looking at the most offensive thing in the world.

It was, objectively, a rather well-drawn picture.

Had the man in it not been Colonel Ryan Wilgrave, he might even have complimented the artist.

He tossed the drawing onto the table and walked over to the mirror by the fireplace.

Reflected there was a stubborn-looking man with black hair and blue eyes.

"Ryan Thornton."

He quietly spoke the name he was currently using.

"I'll live under that name for a while."

A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked at his reflection.

The man who, until arriving here, had been known as Ryan Wilgrave.

Long ago, when he had first seen the official portrait supposedly painted of himself, he had laughed harder than he had in years.

Because the portrait that had arrived looked nothing like him.

The painter had come hoping to immortalize the face of the famous war hero.

Finding the whole affair bothersome, Ryan had simply ordered his adjutant to sit for the portrait and pretend to be him.

In fact, when the painter had first arrived...

Ryan's initial order had been to throw him out immediately.

But the people who wanted to paint him never stopped coming.

Even threatening to punish them under military law did nothing to discourage them.

When he finally looked into why, he discovered that somewhere along the way, he had become a celebrated war hero.

Even the royal family and Parliament had sent letters urging him to cooperate, apparently intending to use him for propaganda.

‘Ridiculous.’

How were they supposed to carry out infiltration missions if his face became famous throughout the country?

So Ryan summoned his adjutant and gave him an order.

...“You'll have to become Ryan Wilgrave."...

Naturally, the man nearly jumped out of his skin in protest.

But the military's absolute rule was simple:

Orders from a superior must be obeyed.

So, to the world, Ryan Wilgrave became known as a handsome blond man with blue eyes and refined features.

...“Good heavens, Colonel! The truth will come out someday!"...

...“I'll deal with that when the time comes. For now, leave it as it is."...

Ryan actually thought it worked out for the best.

Not only did it stop people from pestering him, but if everyone believed Ryan Wilgrave had an entirely different face, it would make infiltrating enemy territory far easier.

And just as he'd expected, whenever he put on an ordinary soldier's uniform and moved about, no one ever imagined he was Ryan Wilgrave.

Then the war ended.

When a man who looked nothing like the famous portrait appeared at the peace negotiations, not only were the enemy stunned into silence, but even senior military officers-many of whom had never met him in person-could only stare in astonishment.

Watching their reactions, Ryan was convinced he'd made the right decision.

He felt the same after returning to Newham.

‘It was dreadful.’

People displayed portraits that weren't even his likeness while praising the name "Ryan Wilgrave."

He could have tolerated people praising his military achievements.

But seeing people fall in love with a man they didn't even know...

He found it pathetic.

‘People who speak of love without even knowing what the other person looks like...’

‘Foolish. Pathetic.’

His contempt only deepened when he briefly stopped by his townhouse in the capital.

...“What is all this?"...

..."Invitations addressed to you, Master."...

...“I can see that. What I want to know is why there are so many. Did people start sending ten invitations each as some new form of etiquette while I was away?"...

...“Well... because everyone in the capital-no, everyone in Albion-admires you."...

Needless to say, Ryan ordered every invitation declined.

Around that time, several friends came to visit him.

Philip, who was usually a man of few words, suddenly launched into an uninterrupted rant.

..."I feel like a freshly caught fish that's just been put up for auction. Every gaze that lands on me inspects me with painstaking care, as if trying to determine whether there's something wrong with me. And the moment I pass their inspection, I'm dragged here and there to greet dozens-hundreds-of young ladies whose names I can't even remember."...

...“After that, I have to keep dancing until my mouth goes dry, all while carrying the solemn duty of not offending the ladies who keep looking at me with such hopeful expressions."...

He sounded thoroughly exhausted.

...“Honestly, dealing with proper young ladies isn't the problem. Spending time with beautiful, well-bred ladies is something any gentleman can take pride in."...

..."It's the others..."...

..."The women who pretend to be modest when they're anything but."...

..."They whisper things like, 'Let's enjoy a little excitement together,' or, 'I'd even be happy to be your lover.'"...

... "Oh, dear Lord..."...

Richard, sitting beside him, cut in.

..."Philip's right. Every woman in Albion seems desperate to devour us alive."...

Unlike Philip, Richard had enlisted because his father had hoped that sending him to war might rein in his hopeless womanizing.

As soon as the war ended, Richard had raced back to Newham before anyone else.

Claiming that the beautiful ladies of the capital were waiting for him, he had loudly declared that no matter what happened, he was going to enjoy the romance of a lifetime and find true love.

Yet contrary to all those bold declarations, Richard now showed up only at drinking parties attended by men.

..."Ladies are one thing. But when even the maid you hired walks into your room after taking her clothes off..."...

... "...No matter how chaotic the world has become, how can something like that happen?"...

Shaking his head, Richard poured himself another glass of whiskey before turning to Ryan.

..."Out of all of us, you're the one who needs to be the most careful."...

...“Your reputation surpasses everyone else's, and your bloodline is as noble as they come. Right now, you're Albion's most eligible bachelor."...

...“Your personality may be rather prickly, but with your qualifications, people will just call that part of your charm."...

...“Once you return to Newham, you'll have visitors knocking on your door every single day."...

...“And that's not all."...

...“Even the maids in your own household will be lying awake at night, waiting for the chance to sneak into your bedroom."...

Ryan's expression hardened.

..."Don't insult the Wilgrave household's servants."...

Richard let out a deflating chuckle.

...“Ryan... you really have no idea how irresistible a prize you are."...

..."Just don't ignore my advice."...

And that very night...

Ryan would regret not taking his friend's warning to heart.

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