Tension drains away from his shoulders. He gives me a soft smile. “I am learning.”
I wish I was. I wish I knew how to behave in a way that didn’t insult or upset him. But the only thing I can do is to keep trying.
I smile back at him and hope that my promise is showing in my eyes. I’m trying. He definitely is. And if we both keep working on this marriage, then we are bound to get somewhere.
These aren’t really gardens anymore. They have been allowed to run wild and return to nature. Lawns are now meadows of wildflowers. Neatly trimmed hedges are now shaggy bushes. Regimented borders are now a riot of colour and shape.
I love it. The puppy loves it too. She is bounding along sniffing at everything, while wagging her tail non-stop.
There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. It’s an overcast summer afternoon. Not chilly, but definitely not sunbathing weather. Though I can’t imagine the fey sunbathe.
Maybe most of court are still asleep? I get the impression that most of the fun and drama happens at night. Or perhaps they are simply elsewhere in the gardens. They are vast. I’m pretty sure they are far bigger than the gardens of Buckingham Palace used to be. Which is something I’m not going to think about because it is far too unsettling. Buckingham Palace is slap bang in the heart of London, it should be impossible for the gardens to expand.
Not without an awful lot of demolition, which there is zero evidence of. So that leaves only uncanny, unthinkable things.
Anyway, it’s fine. Whatever the reason, the result is I get to be alone with my new puppy friend. And how glorious is that? People always said that walks are great for mental health and wellbeing. I should have listened. I feel practically buoyant.
The puppy stops to thoroughly sniff an unremarkable-looking patch of grass. I stop by her side and watch her with a smile on my face. She really is adorable.
“How about Sweetpea for a name?” I say.
Her ears twitch and her thick coat moves as if she is shuddering.
I laugh. “No, you are right. You are going to grow up to be a huge, terrifying dire wolf. Sweetpea would be a terrible name.”
I think for a moment. Then a name pops into my head, seemingly out of nowhere.
“How about Loki?”
She stops sniffing, and lifts her head to look right at me. Her blue eyes catch the light and glow for a moment.
“You approve? Loki?”
Her tail wags.
“Ok, Loki it is!”
She gives a little yap and bounds off, only to stop and start sniffing at a bush. I follow after her and wait by her side. There is no hurry, and this walk is for her benefit. If she wants to sniff everything in the entire garden, then that’s just fine.
I tilt my head up to the sky and take in a lungful of fresh air. All of a sudden, voices carry on the breeze. It sounds like someone is on the other side of this bush.
“Viscount Bellany, you are so handsome,” a voice giggles. All light and airy and deeply flirtatious.
My eyebrows rise. Viscount Bellany, Mother’s friend and co-conspirator? He really is not handsome. By any stretch of the imagination.
“I cannot wait until we can be together,” coos the same voice.
Wait. Oh my stars, is that Dyfri? Surely not?
“Not long now!” booms Bellany’s loud voice. “You won’t have to wait for much longer.”
His heavy footsteps crash through the undergrowth and away. Luckily, in the opposite direction from where I am standing.
“Why are you spying on me?”
I yelp and stumble backwards as Dyfri appears right in front of me. Loki lets out a little growl. Then she sniffs Dyfri’s robes, wags her tail, and goes back to inspecting the bush.
Dyfri crosses his arms over his chest, and his dark eyes glare at me.
