The faint sunlight streaming through the curtains was helpful. Laura could see. The hollowed-out eyes. The pale, gaunt face.

“You’ve had it rough. As much as I have.”

Laura’s heart ached. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him right then and there. But she didn’t want to wake him. It was clear he hadn’t slept well last night.

“My love. My Ian. You may not care, but some people in this world still think our marriage is improper. That I’ll ruin you and the Dalton family. I don’t care what happens to me, but I wanted to protect the name of Ian Dalton, the landowner. A refined, moral, truly respectable gentleman. That’s the real you. That’s why I was so defensive. I’ve always been shy, but I reacted twice as sensitively because of that. It was never because I disliked you… I’m sorry. It was all for your sake, but I never imagined it would make things this hard for us…”

Laura gently wiped the tears welling in her eyes and shifted her gaze to the side. He was clutching something tightly to his chest with both hands.

“Did this bring you comfort?”

Laura quietly peered at what he held. The light was dim, so it wasn’t clear, but it looked like a piece of black fabric.

Laura lightly brushed her fingertips over the end of the fiber dangling from his arm.

It was moderately thick wool. The surface was rough, like sandpaper. It was cheap fabric, the kind someone as wealthy as Ian would never wear in his life.

Laura tilted her head and turned her gaze back to Ian’s face.

Ian’s sleeping face was both pitiful and endearing. He looked like a child who had cried himself to sleep searching for his mother. Laura couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him.

“When you wake up, I can do it as much as I want. Just wait a little. Just a little…”

“Mmm…”

Ian let out a soft breath and stirred. Laura flinched slightly but pressed her lips together, staying silent.

A long, sigh-like exhale followed. His breath carried a strong scent of mint.

He brought the bundle of fabric he was holding to his nose. Then he took a deep breath.

His breathing continued deeply. He toyed with the rough, cheap fabric, smelled it, and rubbed it against his cheek.

“Laura…”

He murmured in a low voice.

“Laura…”

Laura couldn’t hold back any longer. She took his hand.

He flinched, pulled his face away from the fabric, and looked straight ahead.

Their eyes met.

Ian just stared at Laura. Laura gave an awkward smile.

“…I’m here.”

“…”

“Let’s go to the bedroom. There’s no point in separate rooms anymore. The rumors have already spread… and I can’t be without you any longer…”

Suddenly, he reached out.

“Ah!”

A strong force pulled Laura onto the bed. In an instant, she was lying down.

Ian was leaning over her.

His hand caressed Laura’s face.

“Is it real?”

“…”

“Is it really you, Laura?”

Laura’s gaze wavered. Even in her confusion, she felt she had to give him the right answer. His face looked like it might break into sobs at any moment.

Laura nodded.

“Prove it.”

“…What…”

“Prove this isn’t a dream.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I know it’s another dream. You’ll say you forgive me, then vanish in the blink of an eye. You’ll make me tear Whitefield apart looking for you. You’ll make me wake up to an empty bed and cry.”

His tears fell onto Laura’s face.

“You’ll leave me, not caring how much I regret or how terrified I am of losing you.”

Laura let out a pained moan.

“Oh, why do you suffer so easily because of me?”

The answer was obvious. Because he loved her. More than he loved himself.

Laura stroked Ian’s head. Until his crying stopped.

As if her touch held magic, Ian’s sobs gradually subsided.

When his tears ceased, Laura wiped his damp cheeks. Ian still looked at her with distrustful eyes, even as he felt her touch.

Laura pulled his face closer and gave him a light kiss.

“Do illusions kiss you like this?”

He looked at Laura, startled.

Laura opened the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. Then she ran her hand slowly along his slender neck.

“Do illusions touch you like this?”

Laura gently pushed Ian’s shoulder. As if he’d lost the strength he’d used to pull her close, he lay back on the bed as she guided him.

Laura carefully straddled Ian’s hips.

She leaned down, showering his face with kisses. At the same time, she slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

Soon, the shirt parted, revealing his toned bare skin. Laura blushed slightly as she untied the ribbon sash around her waist.

The ribbon fell to the floor with a soft thud.

“I’ll prove it. That this isn’t a dream.”

At the center of Whitefield Hall stood a tall grandfather clock. A slender, French-style piece, it was one of the dowry items brought by Patricia Dalton, the former Lady Dalton, when she married into the family.

The clock’s chime was as clear and lovely as its appearance. While most grandfather clocks produced heavy, dull sounds, Patricia Dalton’s clock let out a charming, bell-like tone, reminiscent of tapping a glass.

Tonight, as always, the grandfather clock rang its clear chime to mark midnight. The sound echoed throughout the house. Through the sweat-soaked kitchen of the cooks, the staircase Rams Wick had scurried up and down all day, the study where Noel had spent the evening writing replies to love letters, and the empty bedroom of the master and mistress.

And to the guest room at the eastern end of the third floor, where the air hung heavy with moisture.

The guest room was small. It was originally intended for children under ten among the guests invited to Whitefield.

Perhaps because of this, even with just a small lamp on above the bed, the room was brightly lit from corner to corner.

Of course, the brightest spot was directly beneath the lamp, on the bed where the master and mistress lay.

Ding— Ding— Ding—

Under the light, Ian, who had been stroking Laura’s lustrous auburn hair, heard the chime ringing in his ears.

“Midnight.”

Laura, resting her head on her husband’s chest and breathing softly, nodded.

“It’s midnight.”

Ian hugged Laura tightly.

“Time to stop making love?”

Laura let out a soft laugh.

“Can we love even more?”

“As much as you want. But I like this better.”

“If you’d said more, I was going to call you a beast.”

“I’ve heard it so much from you, it doesn’t even faze me.”

Ian twirled Laura’s hair around his finger. A piece of a red sunset seemed caught in his hand. He smiled contentedly and kissed her hair.

“Making you mad isn’t so bad. Reconciling makes us this happy. Should we fight again later?”

“No way. I was worried sick.”

“Worried?”

“Yeah. Olivia said you were practically dying.”

Ian chuckled.

“That girl. Always exaggerating.”

Laura looked up at Ian’s face. His expression was bright, but he definitely looked a bit haggard.

“Haven’t been sleeping?”

“Nope.”

“Eating?”

“Nope.”

Laura rested her chin in the hollow of her husband’s chest and sighed.

“No matter how much I’m upset, we shouldn’t sleep apart.”

Ian suddenly pulled Laura’s face close, locking eyes with her.

“Does seeing me starve tear your heart apart? Is my pain your pain?”

Laura found his intense gaze a bit overwhelming but nodded obediently. He grinned like a fool—no, exactly like a fool—and pulled her close for a kiss. Since the midnight chime had rung, he stopped short of a French kiss.

Rubbing his nose against hers, he murmured.

“What am I to do with you, my Laura, loving me this much? You’d be in trouble without me, wouldn’t you?”

Laura burst into laughter.

“You’re right.”

“Forever together, right? Loving like this?”

“Of course.”

“Comforting me like before?”

Laura’s face turned bright red.

“Will you treat me like a ride sometimes?”

She playfully smacked his chest.

“You’re such a rogue, really.”

“Won’t you? When your loving husband asks?”

“No way.”

Laura turned away. Ian quickly turned her back to face him.

“Alright, alright. Don’t turn your back. Lie facing me.”

Laura obediently turned back to him. But as she moved, she felt something rough brush against her bare skin. She hadn’t noticed earlier in the heat of the moment, but there was something else on the bed besides the sheets and blanket.

Laura reached under the blanket and pulled out the coarse object. It was a black shawl. A very plain, cheap shawl.

Why was something like this on the bed? As she wondered, Ian swiftly snatched the shawl. He held it carefully to his chest.

Seeing this, Laura recalled how he had been sleeping, clutching it tightly.

“Ian. That’s a woman’s shawl. Why do you have it?”

“…”

“Is it a keepsake from your mother?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, then maybe a gift from your sister before she married…”

He bristled.

“Do you think I’d sleep holding my married sister’s shawl at my age?”

“Then?”

Ian kept his lips tightly shut. Laura considered pressing him, wondering if it belonged to another woman, but decided against it. It would be too cruel to her husband, who’d surely be outraged at the implication.

As she stared at the shawl, lost in thought, Laura suddenly realized its pattern looked familiar. She racked her memory and soon recalled it was hers from the past.

“This is mine! From when I was a governess! When was it? At the cottage? I lent it to you and asked you to throw it away…”

“…”

“Why do you still have it?”

“…Because it was yours.”

He admitted with an embarrassed expression.

“I wanted something of yours. It has your scent, and I can hold it when I want to… Don’t think it’s weird! In romance novels, male leads often secretly steal a glove from the woman they love and look at it sometimes. It’s like that.”

Laura was a bit baffled.

“A glove is one thing, but this shawl seems too shabby for something romantic.”

“It wrapped around your body. How is that shabby?”