The silence that followed was deep and resonant, filled with unspoken understanding. Above them, Castor and Pollux burned steadily, unchanged by centuries of human grief.
Then, Greyson exhaled slowly. “Thank you… for listening.”
Hazel reached out before she could reconsider, resting her hand lightly against his sleeve. “Thankyou,” she replied, “for trusting me with him.”
He covered her hand with his own. And beneath the watchful stars, Hazel realized that she had fallen desperately and madly in love with her husband.
Greyson’s study had always been a place of order.
Dark wood, clean lines and ledgers aligned with military precision. Everything was exactly where it ought to be. It was where he conducted negotiations, signed contracts, and made decisions that affected tenants, trade, and title alike. Feelings had never belonged there.
And yet, as Jasper lounged far too comfortably in one of the leather chairs and Robert examined a set of shipping accounts with quiet diligence, Greyson found himself distracted in a way that had nothing to do with commerce.
“You’ve agreed rather quickly, old boy,” Jasper remarked, tapping a finger against the armrest. “There was no objection, no counterargument, no faintly threatening stare. I feel cheated.”
Greyson did not look up from the papers in his hand. “If you have finished posturing, Jasper, I would like to conclude this meeting before nightfall.”
“Oh, I am finished,” Jasper replied cheerfully. “I am merely observing.”
Robert glanced up then, with the corner of his mouth lifting. “Observing what, precisely?”
Jasper grinned. “Our illustrious duke.”
Greyson’s quill pen paused. Then, slowly, he set it aside. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“Oh, I intend to.” Jasper leaned forward. His eyes were bright with mischief. “You are…happy.”
The word landed in the room like an accusation. Robert’s brows rose slightly. Greyson felt irritation stir in that old, familiar manner, but it did not take hold as it once would have. That, too, unsettled him.
“That is a ridiculous assessment,” he said calmly.
“Is it?” Jasper countered, more amused with each passing moment. “You did not snap when I arrived unannounced. You agreed to Robert’s proposal without argument. And you have been smiling at your ledger for the past quarter hour as though it whispered sweet nothings.”
“I was not smiling.”
“You were,” Robert confirmed, curious to see where this was going. “I noticed it as well.”
Greyson exhaled through his nose. “You are both imagining things.”
Jasper hummed. “Then explain this: what has altered your disposition so drastically?”
Greyson leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. For a moment, he considered deflecting, dismissing, ending the conversation entirely. That had always been his way. But the truth pressed against him, insistent and undeniable.
“I kissed my wife,” he admitted.
Jasper’s eyes widened. “You?—”
Robert’s smirk deepened. “Ah.”
Greyson scowled. “Do not look so smug.”
“I am married,” Robert replied serenely. “Smugness is a professional hazard.”
Jasper, meanwhile, looked delighted. “You kissed her…voluntarily.”
“Yes.”
“Repeatedly?” Jasper pressed.
