On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 28

The second reason Layla had come to Wynwood.

After obtaining Viscount Pullen’s approval for the entrance exam, she had planned to visit tea houses or bookstores in Wynwood to look for a tutor. However, Jonathan made a suggestion first.

“As a former lecturer at Wynwood, his credentials and background are beyond question. He taught world economics here, but he has an insatiable love for books, so he knows all sorts of things. He’s also well-versed in etiquette from dealing with young noblemen.”

“Ah….”

Only then did Layla recall Jonathan’s maternal family.

Back when she had been part of high society, these connections had been second nature. But after distancing herself from that world, it took her a moment to piece everything together.

One of Jonathan’s relatives, Madam Burning, was someone Layla had reached out to for help in finding a tutor. However, she had never received a reply.

Yet, Jonathan was aware of her situation.

Most likely, Madam Burning had told him about it.

Layla couldn’t respond immediately.

Jonathan had been one of the people closest to both Ethanwalk and herself.

He knew exactly how she had been cast aside.

So he must have understood everything when he learned she had reached out to Madam Burning for a tutor.

He knew that Layla had almost no one left to ask for help.

Logically, she should refuse.

If this somehow made its way back to the crown prince, it could put Jonathan in a difficult position.

Helping a disgraced former fiancée—it was bound to be viewed as inappropriate.

So she should say no.

But Jonathan seemed to understand her hesitation.

He simply nodded, signaling for her to accept his offer.

Her eyes burned slightly with emotion.

“…The Burman household is looking for a tutor. The child is ten years old and will be taking the Wynwood entrance exam next year. If you haven’t secured your next job yet, would you be interested in an interview?”

At least not everything that happened today was bad.

* * *

Jonathan called for Layla’s carriage and ensured she departed first.

Standing beside him, Ham grinned widely, eager to make a good impression on his potential future employer.

“Thank you, Sir Miller.”

“I merely ensured that Ham won’t starve. This was a personal visit to Wynwood, so there’s nothing to report to His Highness.”

“…Thank you.”

Layla stepped into the carriage and closed the door.

Just as she was about to leave, Jonathan called out to her.

“Lady Edgestone.”

Jonathan had always addressed her as Lady Edgestone in the past.

Now that she was married, the title should have changed. Perhaps out of habit, or maybe he had simply forgotten for a moment, he used her maiden name.

Through the carriage window, Layla met his gaze.

Jonathan hesitated for a brief moment before offering a slight bow.

“My apologies. Please take care of yourself.”

“You as well, Sir Miller.”

As the carriage pulled away, Wynwood gradually faded into the distance.

* * *

It was no coincidence that Blake heard about the incident.

He had no intention of returning to Strover, where the princess would likely betray him and go back on their agreement. Instead, he planned to invest and expand his capital in Greymers, ensuring a stable future for his subordinates, who had no choice but to remain in this land.

Of course, things weren’t going as smoothly as he had hoped.

Once he began visiting various companies to explore investments, rumors spread quickly.

Blake’s actions had always been a source of gossip among the nobility—his every move was scrutinized and ridiculed. Naturally, swindlers and opportunists began to circle him.

Even though Blake had become a symbol of the truce agreement, resentment toward him hadn’t disappeared.

It was easy for the elite to lure a desperate barbarian investor into a social club, pretending to introduce him to influential figures.

In reality, they merely used him as an amusement, inviting him to salons under the guise of networking while secretly laughing at him. Even if they made introductions, it didn’t mean those aristocrats would actually associate with him.

Blake knew all too well how disgusting the nobility of Greymers could be, but he played along with their games.

Then, amidst the usual taunts, he heard something different.

“I’m telling you, she’s unbelievably shameless! Can you believe she went to visit Viscount Pullen, the vice principal of Wynwood?”

It was Erica.

She waltzed into the salon with a bright laugh, capturing the attention of the guests. Conversations ceased as all eyes turned toward her.

“A Stroverian enrolling in Wynwood? Ridiculous. She knows it’s impossible, which is why she had to go beg the vice principal to at least let the child take the entrance exam.”

Her voice rang through the room, loud enough for even Blake—who was seated in the corner with a drink— to hear.

The people around him began sneaking glances his way, eager to see his reaction.

Would he be embarrassed? Enraged?

They anticipated some kind of spectacle.

“She still acts as if she’s the crown prince’s betrothed. After all, His Highness was generous enough to let her remain in the capital. She should be grateful and keep her head down. But no—just because she married some barbarian from Strover, she thinks she’s important again!”

Erica hadn’t said a name, but everyone knew exactly who she was talking about.

“She still believes that people will listen to whatever she says, just like before. You should’ve seen her face when she left Wynwood—completely pale!”

“I heard she adopted a child. Is this about him?”

“A bastard, isn’t it? A Stroverian child.”

Erica’s voice was laced with amusement, and those around her nodded in agreement, encouraging her to continue.

Blake clenched his jaw.

‘She mentioned going to meet the vice principal at Wynwood today.’

He recalled Layla’s words from the night before.

He had entrusted her with handling Jerry’s admission process.

She had found a tutor. She had started lessons.

He had thought everything was progressing smoothly.

But hearing Erica’s words made his stomach twist.

Greymers’ aristocracy had always been insular, forming an impenetrable clique. They had refused to open their doors to Blake.

And what about Wynwood?

He had assumed that things were moving along better than expected, based on what Whaler had said.

But clearly, they weren’t.

“She’s always been like that,” Erica continued, relishing the attention. “I was the one who saw her true face up close. Outwardly, she acted like the kindest, most graceful woman in the world. But behind closed doors, she was manipulative and cunning.”

Layla’s position wasn’t so different from Blake’s.

Just as he was treated as an outsider for being Stroverian, she had been cast out of high society.

“When no one else was around, her true nature came out. I had to put up with her awful temper. You have no idea how much I suffered, trying to cater to her moods. Imagine if she had become queen—she would’ve ruled the palace with an iron fist and lived a life of luxury. We were lucky to be spared from that disaster.”

Blake’s mind flashed back to their wedding day.

Layla had walked down the aisle, her wedding dress stained red with tomatoes thrown by an angry crowd.

That was the place Greymers had given her.

“I couldn’t exactly expose the truth back then, since she was the crown prince’s fiancée. But at least now, everyone knows what she really is.”

As Blake approached Erica, the people surrounding her stepped back, making space. A crude curiosity clung to him. They were eager to see how angry Blake would get or whether he would join them in slandering Layla.

“You seem to know my wife well. Who are you?”

The woman was startled when she saw Blake. She hadn’t realized he had been in the same space. The atmosphere stiffened momentarily.

A young man, who had been listening nearby, stepped forward to stand beside Erica, as if to protect her. Only then did the woman lift her chin and curl her lips into a smirk.

“I don’t recall being introduced to you by my wife.”

It wasn’t sarcasm—he was asking sincerely.

From what the woman said, she seemed to have served Layla, yet Blake couldn’t recall her name. Not in this life, nor in the previous one.

Perhaps out of sympathy or some sense of moral obligation, the man standing beside the woman spoke to Blake.

“It is polite to introduce yourself before asking someone else’s name.”

“Why don’t you first tell me how much courtesy I should show to someone bad-mouthing my wife?”

At Blake’s retort, the man fell silent. There was no room for argument.

“There’s no need for introductions—I’m sure everyone here already knows me. Blake Burman.”

“Erica Rowan. I was once a friend of Lady Burman and served as her attendant.”

Erica introduced herself, her lips trembling as she lowered her gaze. If he had overheard everything she had said, she needed to paint herself as an innocent victim. Calculating quickly, she spoke with a wavering voice.

“I only spoke the truth. I witnessed Lady Burman’s misdeeds firsthand, yet I kept thinking, ‘No, she wouldn’t go that far.’ I truly believed she wouldn’t. I had watched her for so long that my heart softened, and I chose to ignore what I saw. I deserve to be criticized for turning a blind eye.”

Her eyelashes trembled, and tears glistened in her eyes. The man beside her comforted her.

“Miss Erica is a victim. How many here would have the courage to expose the injustices of their superiors immediately?”

His voice was gentle.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for another’s wrongdoings.”

“Sir Duncan…”

With a quivering voice, she looked up at him as if he were the only one who could save her. His heart pounded.

Suppressing her joy, Erica’s lips trembled slightly.

‘This is a good opportunity. The heavens haven’t completely abandoned me.’

Duncan wasn’t a noble, but he was the son of a well-established textile factory owner. He had shown interest in Erica before, but at the time, she had been set to become a lady-in-waiting to the queen—he hadn’t been a suitable match.

But now, after her broken engagement and the loss of all her marriage prospects, he had become a rather attractive option. He had the financial stability to provide her with a comfortable life.

If she didn’t marry soon, she would be stuck enduring her family’s scorn and living under constant scrutiny. Any man who showed interest in marrying her would be a great salvation.

Until now, Duncan had hesitated to approach Erica, wary of the gossip surrounding her after Layla’s downfall. There was still affection in his eyes, but he had kept his distance due to social pressure.

Erica quickly understood his nature—he was the type to flee if she pushed too aggressively.

Although she was the daughter of a noble, her title was in name only, and her family had no prestige to boast about. On top of that, her honor had been shattered, making her an undesirable bride even for wealthy commoners.

So she had to make Duncan fall for her completely. Enough that even if his family opposed, he would protect her and push forward.

Feeling the warmth of his arm around her shoulders, Erica lowered her gaze with a sorrowful expression and leaned her head against his shoulder.

A sharp intake of breath came from above her head—Duncan had tensed.

‘That’s it. He’s mine now.’

“In Gramas, it seems ‘friend’ is a term used for someone you abandon once they are no longer useful.”

Just as she was about to savor her victory, a heavy voice cut through the air. Erica flinched.