Page 27 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time (To Fall Through Time #1)

D orian sleeps in the next morning, which brings Selene some comfort. He rises just as she’s finishing breakfast. The dark shadows under his eyes have receded somewhat.

Ariella pinches one of his cheeks as he sits down at the terrace table.

“Oy!” he says.

“You look brighter today,” she tells him.

“Then you should say that rather than pinching my cheeks!”

“Now, where would be the fun in that? I’ll be pinching your cheeks when you’re seventy, boy.”

“Ariella, I cannot stress how much that I am no longer a child.”

“I changed you when you were in your swaddling clothes,” she tells him. “Nothing you can tell me will alter that.”

Dorian blushes a deep shade of scarlet. Selene tries not to laugh. Embarrassed or not, she rather wishes she’d had an Ariella growing up.

“You’re smiling at me,” Dorian remarks over the top of the newspaper he’s trying to bury himself in.

“That is because you are very sweet.”

Dorian blushes even further.

After dinner, as promised, Dorian comes to Selene’s room and summons her for another game. They settle in beside the window in his room for another round of Last Man Home.

“I went easy on you last time,” Dorian insists. “Tonight, I shall be taking no prisoners.”

“We shall see,” Selene remarks, with a confidence she remembers wielding once before—before the Duke, when she believed all men were like Dorian.

“About last night…” she begins.

“Please, Selene, I truly am sorry—”

“I believe you,” she says quickly. “That isn’t what I want to address.”

Dorian raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Selene knows she doesn’t owe him an explanation for why she is the way she is—indeed, she can’t fully explain it in a way that will make sense—but at the same time, she wants him to know. She wants him to understand her better.

She wants to understand him better, too .

“I’ve been taught to be humble,” she explains to him. “I’m never supposed to agree with a compliment, especially around men. From a very young age, much of my education has revolved around how to make men happy and comfortable, often at the expense of my own needs and desires.”

Dorian nods solemnly, as if this isn’t news to him. “I’m sorry that you were treated that way,” he says. “But I hope that you know… you don’t have to do that here. You don’t need to pretend, or perform, or do anything you don’t want to.”

“I… I do know,” Selene tells him. “I’m just… adjusting to feeling it.”

Dorian leans back in his chair. “You know, I’ve always wondered what you girls did in the classes we took separately…”

“You were not missing much, I assure you.” She waits for a moment. “What did you boys do, in your classes?”

Dorian makes a move on the board. “Fencing,” he begins. “A lot of politics and history. Philosophy, public speaking and debating—”

“I bet you were excellent at that.”

Dorian scowls at her, but there’s a smile in the corner of his mouth. “Etiquette, chivalry and honour—”

“Now, that I imagine you did excel in.”

Dorian smiles properly this time. “Some military training, fencing—”

“You said that twice.”

“Did I?”

They smile together. Dorian’s grin lets up first.

“You don’t have to hide yourself,” he reminds her. “You don’t have to cower or dim your light to make others feel better. You never have to be anything other than yourself.”

Selene isn’t entirely sure she knows herself well enough not to hide, but she thinks she’d like to find out. “And you?”

“Oh, I don’t really have much of a light to dim. ”

“That’s not exactly what I meant…”

“No?”

“You’re… you’re hiding too.”

Dorian looks away. “Everyone’s hiding something, Selene. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m different.”

Selene has already made that mistake, but she isn’t sure it’s the wrong one. She wants to tell him that they don’t have to keep secrets, but how can she? She can’t tell him what’s happened to her. He’ll think she’s a lunatic. She is, however, sure that something happened to him.

“Something happened to you, didn’t it?” she begins. “Something happened after your father’s death, when you disappeared from society—”

“Selene—”

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t judge—”

“It’s not your judgement I fear.”

“Then—”

“Selene!” he raises his voice, standing upright. Selene freezes in her chair, shrinking backwards, bracing herself for his anger. But he doesn’t strike her—of course he doesn’t—and he doesn’t yell.

Instead, he does something infinitely more surprising. He crashes down on his knees and throws himself in her lap.

Selene doesn’t know what to do, at first. She has no idea where this has come from.

But she knows she likes the feeling of him against her, and much prefers being hugged to being yelled at.

Slowly, her arms drift around his back, her fingers carding through his ponytail.

Dorian murmurs slightly under her touch.

A year of marriage, and she’d never done anything like this with the Duke. She’d tried hugging him a few times outside of the bedroom, but he never returned it… so ev entually she stopped trying.

Never once had he ever sought a hug from her, or comfort outside of the marriage bed.

“Can we make a promise?” she whispers.

Dorian snorts against her thighs. “Terms first.”

“Maybe we can hug each other, instead of lying,” she tells him. “If we can’t tell each other the truth, at least let’s avoid lies.”

Dorian pulls back, smiling. “I’d like that.”

He coughs and stands up, as if suddenly realising exactly what he’s doing. He sits back down like nothing has happened.

Selene plays her next card, determined to beat him.

Work on the main bathroom is completed, and work finally begins on the new suite Selene has planned. Sensing that Dorian is attached to his own room, she leaves that be, although she has substantial plans for the bathroom, dressing room, and her own room.

“Am I to be privy to these plans?” Dorian asks over lunch.

“You are not.”

He smiles at her, and does not push.

Whilst renovations are ongoing, Selene is moved out of her own room to one of the guest suites down the hall.

It’s only a few doors down from where Dorian is still sleeping, but she finds herself missing the idea of him in the room next to hers.

It’s a silly thing. Ever since the two of them started spending their evenings together, he’s been sleeping better. She doesn’t have to keep an eye on him.

She’s been sleeping better, too .

She no longer wakes expecting to find herself back at Blackthorn Hall. She stops imagining the Duke’s hands on her. She dreams about him less. She lives for being awake. She suspects it will take a long time before she stops thinking about him fully.

Then, one morning, a letter arrives. It’s from the Fairmonts, inviting them to their summer ball.

“Looks like we haven’t been completely cast out of society,” Selene muses, passing Dorian the invitation.

“Do you wish to go?”

Selene hesitates. She remembers the ball well. It was the one where Ophelia hoped Lord Everton would propose, only he lost his courage and poor Ophelia had to wait for another month until he found it.

That aside, it was a very fun night. Selene misses balls and people and court.

She does not miss the Duke.

She cannot hide from him forever, though. Her marriage should protect her.

“Yes,” she says eventually. “I think I do.”

Dorian smiles. “Then, perhaps you would see Greta about getting me a new suit made up? She has my measurements.”

“You wish me to order you a suit?”

“I do.”

“I’m making it magenta. ”

Dorian snorts into his tea.

The next evening, when Dorian appears at her door to summon her to his room for their nightly game, Selene surprises him with a contract.

“What’s this?” Dorian asks.

“An informal marriage contract,” Selene declares. “Since we got married so quickly, we never had a chance to work out the specifics.”

Marriage contracts usually contain legalities—dowries, allowances, financial obligations and incentives. Selene knows Dorian well enough to know he’d be offended by any such things. Instead, their marriage contract contains three things.

Marriage Agreement

This agreement is made and entered into on this …………… by and between Selene Thorena Nightbloom, née Duskbriar , hereinafter referred to as “the Bride,” and Dorian ……….. Nightbloom , hereinafter referred to as “the Groom.”

Both parties, recognising the nature of their union, do hereby agree to the following terms in the spirit of mutual respect, cooperation, and companionship :

1. Shared Mealtimes

The couple shall endeavour to share at least one meal per day. Exceptions shall be made in cases of:

Absence from home due to travel or external obligations

Illness or incapacity

Any other unforeseen circumstance upon which both parties agree

2. Evening Recreation

The couple shall engage in a shared game each evening following supper. The exact time shall be determined by mutual agreement.

Acceptable games shall include, but are not limited to, Chess, Last Man Home, Cribbage, Piquet, Backgammon.

The game need not continue if either party is fatigued, preoccupied with urgent matters, or otherwise unable to participate in good spirit.

3. Honesty Claus e

Should either party find themselves unable or unwilling to provide a truthful statement, they shall instead express their sentiment through a physical embrace (hug) in lieu of a falsehood.

This agreement is made in good faith and shall remain in effect for the duration of the marriage unless amended by mutual consent.

Dorian reviews the document carefully. “This is… very well written,” he says finally.

“I found some old legal documents in the library and emulated the language,” Selene explains. “It’s just supposed to be a silly gesture, nothing serious—”

“I love it,” Dorian says, stepping in the room fully and walking towards the desk. “May I make an addendum?”

“Be my guest.”

4. Privacy and Personal Chambers

The Groom shall not enter the Bride’s private chambers unless explicitly invited by the Bride, or in the case of an emergency.

Selene leans over his shoulder as he’s writing. “You should probably add in something similar for me in regards to your personal space.”

“You’re welcome in my room any time you like.”

Selene’s throat goes dry at the implications—all of which she’s sure Dorian doesn’t mean. “What about your study?”

“You are allowed in my study so long as you knock first.”

“I really do feel like I am getting a lot more out of this marriage than you are.”

Dorian tilts his head. “Do you now?”

Selene doesn’t know what to say to that, or why his gaze is making the back of her neck so warm. “Sign the contract,” she tells him. “What’s your middle name?”

“Ambrose,” he says, writing everything in place. He hands over the pen towards her. His fingertips are hot, and she tries her best to ignore them.

They leave the ink to dry and head to his room for their game.

“I have a favour to ask,” Dorian tells her as he sets up tonight’s entertainment.

“Name it.”

“Tomorrow night, could you keep Marta with you? I have business with her beau.”

“Is it wedding-related business?” she asks him.

Dorian shakes his head, looking guilty.

“Dorian?”

He says nothing, but sweeps his arms around her. “These are the rules, right?”

Selene slides her arms around his back. “Yes,” she says quietly. “These are the rules.”