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“You will. Although I shall show it to you much later.”

Penny nodded and tapped his chest softly.

“All right then. Let me know when the time is right.” She pulled away from his embrace. “I shall be in my room. I want to rest my head a little. I feel faint…”

Concern coated his features, and he closed the space between them.

“If you are unwell, I shall send for–”

“It is only a slight headache. I am sure I will feel better if I lay my head.”

Rhysand sensed something more was wrong with her, but he did not want to force her into speaking out. She would come to him when the time was right.

He told himself that repeatedly, but he could not help but feel worried about his wife. He noticed she looked paler than usual, as though someone had drained all the life from her body. It also disturbed him that she used a carriage to go and get some fresh air. She had not gone to get some fresh air before.

Had she gone to visit her father in prison? Did she get in contact with her brother?He could ask the footman where he had taken her to end his misery. It would not take much, and he was sure the footman would be more than delighted to tell him, but he could not. He would wait for her, no matter how long it took.

He ran his fingers through his hair and balled his fists in frustration. He could not help but worry about her; it ate away at him that he did not know where she had gone to return so gloomy. He sighed and stared down at the missive in his hand; a small smile sat on his lips as he did.

It was the surprise he had for Penelope; it was why he stepped out of Thornbury Hall. The missive held the key to a promising future for the both of them, and he could not wait to share it with her. He could picture her excitement, the way her eyes would brighten up at the news with her wide, dimpled smile. She would probably wrap her arms around him and declare what a perfect husband he was. He smiled at his imagination.

When did he become like this? He had been reeling in the ecstasy of getting to know his wife, every inch of her that he had not taken note of the changes it made to him. Now, all he wanted to do was see her smile and be the reason behind the smile. Uncle Harold had been right when he said having a family of his own would make him feel content.

Speaking of the devil, Uncle Harold pushed open Rhysand’s study door and let himself in with his usual bottle of whiskey in hand.

“Great, you are just who I wanted to see.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“We met this morning and exchanged pleasantries before I left, but I doubt you remember that,” he pointed at the bottle of whiskey. Uncle Harold looked down at his hand and chuckled.

“What did you want to see me for?” Uncle Harold collapsed into the chair in front of the desk.

Rhysand pushed the missive to him without a word.

“What is this, Son?” He dropped the bottle of whiskey on the table and took the missive. Rhysand said nothing. He only watched his uncle open the letter and go over the contents of the article.

“What is this?” Uncle Harold asked again, his voice sharper than he had ever heard it.

“I plan to release Hislop from prison.”

“What?” Uncle Harold pushed himself off the chair with wide eyes. “Have you gone mad?”

Rhysand blinked back in surprise. He should have anticipated this reaction.

“Uncle, calm down. I can explain–”

“Is this some joke? A simple prank to throw me off balance this fine morning? Because it is working.”

Rhysand, taken aback by his uncle’s reaction, stood up to meet his eyes.

“Why would you think it is a joke? You said it yourself: finding myself a wife would take my mind off the revenge, and it has. I do not feel the need to punish Wilson Hislop anymore.”

“Do you not realize that the man killed your family? He slaughtered your family in broad daylight. My brother!”

Rhysand licked his lips, his brows furrowed as he watched his uncle.

“What has gotten into you, Uncle? Did you take my role as the Cruel Duke?”