The Marquis and the Footman

To escape the social season, Layla disguises herself as a man and takes a job as a footman in a grand estate—only to come face-to-face with her first love.
Working close to him stirs up long-buried emotions, but she struggles to hide both her true identity and her feelings while doing everything she can to support him.

However…

“…Layla? What are you doing here?”

Her secret is exposed. And as he draws close and pulls away on a whim, she finally demands:

“Why do you think I don’t know anything?”

Without a second thought, she throws herself into his arms—consequences be damned.

The rising heat contrasted sharply with the cold raindrops pounding against Layla’s skin, sending her mind into a haze. She hadn’t been able to refuse the kiss of the man she loved—not until the very end.

After all, she was leaving soon. This would be their last time. He was going to be married.

That single thought jolted Layla back to her senses. She shoved him away with all her strength, catching Herion off guard. He had let his guard down, completely immersed in the moment, and the force of her push sent him stumbling backward.

Layla blinked away the rain blurring her vision and wiped her face with her sleeve. It was already soaked through, but it helped a little. She brushed back her damp hair clinging to her face, took a deep breath, and steadied herself.

Yes, he was getting married. That was the biggest reason she had decided to leave the estate. How could she forget that? Layla felt a sudden wave of embarrassment, as if Beatrice were watching her from afar.

Kissing another woman’s man like this…

The thought made her ears burn with shame. But that fleeting embarrassment was instantly shattered by the tremor in Herion’s voice.

“…Layla?”

His voice, always firm and composed, wavered ever so slightly.

Hearing her name from his lips in such an unexpected way, Layla’s eyes widened as she met his gaze.