Page 24

The shopkeeper nodded approvingly. “Ah, a fine choice. One Thousand and One Nights is a classic, full of magic and mystery. We have a beautifully bound edition just in.”

Nearby, Wilhelmina stood with a small frown, leafing through a few heavier tomes. She held up a volume titled An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith, then a pamphlet titled Reflections on the Revolution in France by Edmund Burke.

“I prefer something more… enlightening,” she chimed in, her tone crisp. “Perhaps some political philosophy or history. These works by Mr. Smith and Mr. Burke offer much food for thought.”

The shopkeeper nodded again, clearly impressed. “You have the mind of a scholar, my lady. Such books are not often requested by young ladies, but you seem quite learned.”

Wilhelmina allowed herself a small smile. “My father permits me one book a season, though I confess choosing is difficult.”

Daphne tugged gently on Wilhelmina’s sleeve. “I can’t decide between One Thousand and One Nights and Mother Goose . Both sound wonderful.”

Wilhelmina glanced at her with a teasing smile. “Your choice is far easier than mine, little one.”

Victoria, standing a little apart, crossed her arms and cast a dismissive glance at the books. “Why is this taking you so long? Novels and fairytales are distractions.”

Dominic, who had been quietly observing them, stepped closer. “Why limit yourselves to one? You may have both.”

Daphne’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Your Grace!”

Before Dominic could react, she threw her arms around him in a sudden, earnest hug.

He froze, caught off guard.

Almost immediately, Daphne pulled back, her cheeks flushed. “Oh! I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Wilhelmina stepped forward then, offering a small smile. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a grateful nod.

Dominic gave a brief nod, regaining his composure. He turned to the shopkeeper. “We’ll take these,” he said, placing a few coins on the counter.

The shopkeeper’s eyes twinkled with approval as he carefully wrapped the books.

Marianne watched the exchange, feeling a new layer of respect and something softer blooming within her for her husband.

They left the bookshop soon after.

Daphne soon forgot about her embarrassment, skipping happily with her purchases tucked against her chest.

Not too far from the bookshop, Victoria’s eyes finally caught something that she liked: a small stall selling trinkets.

She practically floated toward the stall, her fingers hovering over a few beads. Then, she picked up a beautiful crescent-moon brooch with blue and silver beads.

“Do you like it?” Marianne asked gently, almost afraid to scare her sister into dropping the brooch.

“Yes,” Victoria answered, her eyes sparkling. “But I can’t have it. I-It’s too much, Marianne.” She put the trinket back where she found it.

“If you like it, I’ll buy it,” Dominic offered, suddenly appearing right behind them.

“No, thank you,” Victoria said, blinking.

Marianne could certainly believe what she heard. Her sister could be so proud, but Marianne also saw the way she looked at the brooch furtively. Victoria wanted it.

She placed a gentle hand on her sister’s back. “It’s all right to accept gifts, Victoria,” she said softly.

Victoria looked up at her with her mouth open. Then, she looked back down at the brooch. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Aha. A decision has been made.

Dominic gave her a little nod and paid for the brooch.

Marianne watched the whole thing with wonder at her husband’s quiet generosity. There was no gloating. He did not look at her as if to remind her that she owed him. Nothing.

She felt warmth swell in her chest. Perhaps beneath her husband’s strict exterior, there was room for kindness after all.

That evening, Wilhelmina flung Marianne’s chamber door open.

No knocking, no asking for permission to come in. Just like old times.

Her younger sister must have become comfortable.

Wilhelmina crossed the threshold with a sly smile.

“This room suits you perfectly—simple, elegant, not a hint of gaudiness,” she remarked, her eyes lingering on the deep green velvets and the polished mahogany, clearly approving.

Marianne set down her hairbrush, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It does feel comfortable.”

Wilhelmina perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So, Marianne, how was your wedding night? Do tell, was it everything you hoped for?”

Marianne’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced away. “Wilhelmina, really, such matters are hardly appropriate for discussion.”

For some reason, she felt ashamed that nothing happened during her wedding night. Perhaps she would have felt the same shame if something had happened. She was so confused.

Wilhelmina waved a hand, unfazed. “Oh, come now. I’m not a child, you can tell me. Was it awkward? Passionate? Or did you both fall asleep halfway through?”

Marianne bit her lip, searching for a graceful dodge. “It was… uneventful. Quite calm, actually.”

Wilhelmina furrowed her brow. “Calm? Are you telling me that nothing happened at all?”

Marianne blinked rapidly. “Well, let’s just say the evening was… delicate.”

Wilhelmina leaned forward, teasing. “Delicate? Does that mean he’s a hopeless romantic or just utterly disinterested?”

Marianne shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time and getting used to one another.”

Wilhelmina grinned, sensing her sister’s evasiveness. “Hmm. Why are you evading the question?”

Marianne smiled tightly. “I prefer to keep some mysteries.”

Wilhelmina chuckled. “Very well. But next time, I expect more than mysteries.”

Marianne seized the moment. “Speaking of mysteries—have you seen the new garden roses? They’re quite the sight.”

Wilhelmina groaned but laughed. “Fine. For now, the roses it is. But the night? We’ll revisit that soon.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Marianne caught Wilhelmina’s gaze and wondered if her sister could see past her calm exterior, if she could guess the whirlwind of thoughts she was trying to keep at bay.

“Is he always so… cold?” Wilhelmina asked softly, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “So proper, so distant?”

Marianne hesitated before answering. “No. Not always. It’s just… Like I said, we’re both still adjusting—to the marriage, to each other.”

The words felt true, even if only partly.

“Adjusting, huh?” Wilhelmina flashed a knowing smirk. “Well, I suppose it must be quite the change. You love all creatures, great and small, and yet you met him at a stag hunt. And he’s a business partner of our dear, old father.”

Sarcasm dripped from her words like venom.

“He’s nothing like Father,” Marianne said sharply, surprised to find herself defending her husband.

She didn’t fully understand why. They barely knew one another. One afternoon spent shopping in the village wasn’t enough to change that.

Not yet, anyway.

Dominic joined Marianne and her sisters for dinner.

At first, the room was quiet—the way he preferred it.

After all, he had often complained about the noise Serafina and Perseus had brought to Oakmere Hall.

But tonight, the silence felt different, like a restless itch just beneath the surface. It was beginning to wear on him.

During their earlier shopping trip, Dominic ended up buying gifts for his wife’s sisters. He didn’t mind spending the money—he had more than enough and little else to spend it on.

Marianne, meanwhile, hadn’t yet ordered anything new for the estate or herself. She seemed content to rummage through old closets and dusty boxes rather than ask Mrs. Alderwick to prepare a shopping list.

For a while, Marianne and Wilhelmina slipped into a quiet conversation, their voices low and tentative. But soon the room fell silent again.

“Are you always this quiet?” Victoria’s voice broke the stillness, sharp and unfiltered.

Dominic wasn’t sure what to make of the girl.

She was young—too young, perhaps—and impulsive, considering the girl had fled into a forest with armed men, back when Dominic had first encountered his wife.

He disliked how talkative Marianne’s little sister was.

Yet, if not for her reckless streak, he might never have taken the time to get to know his wife’s family.

Whether it improved his life remained uncertain.

“Well,” he replied, his voice steady but not unkind, “there are more important things to do than chatter endlessly.”

Victoria flinched, and Dominic immediately regretted the sharpness of his voice. He pressed his lips together and resolved to keep quiet. The girl would tire herself out, eventually.

But she didn’t.

“Are you fine with us being here?” she asked, peering at him over a half-full glass of water.

“Yes.”

“Can we stay longer than just a weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have bought me that brooch if I weren’t Marianne’s sister?”

“No.”

“Can I ride a pony tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

She was testing him, he was sure of it. He tightened his grip on his knife and fork, trying not to let the tension in his jaw show.

“What about when you were a child?” she continued, her chin propped on her hand. “Was your father strict, too? Or were you always like this?”

Dominic stilled.

Victoria didn’t seem to notice the change in his posture. “Was your mother the quiet sort or more talkative like mine? My mother loved talking to her friends?—”

“That is none of your concern,” Dominic cut in, his voice tight.

Victoria blinked, surprised by the interruption. She hesitated, but then asked quietly, “Is—is your mother still alive? She wasn’t at the wedding, but perhaps she’s staying further away?—”

“These things do not concern you,” Dominic said, firmer now, though not unkind.

Victoria’s shoulders curved inward. She lowered her gaze to her plate and didn’t say another word for the rest of the meal.

“May I speak with you in private, Your Grace?” Marianne’s voice was cool, but her eyes flashed with heat as she leaned forward in her chair.