“But this morning, I was not a lady,” Beatrice teased, her eyes bright. “So it is not your fault, and you should not blame yourself.”
Alexander nodded toward her. “I will accept your grace,” he said, “and promise to do better in the future.”
She smiled widely, and he offered his arm as Jenkins opened the front door for them.
He hadn't yet been outside today, and the cold whipped right through him with the northern wind howling around the corner of the building. “Was it this bitter this morning?” he asked, turning to her with wide eyes.
“No more shame, my lord,” she reminded him, clutching his arm tighter. “I survived, and you were more than generous in helping me to warm myself by the fire when I did arrive. And I dare say that I should not expect to be that cold again for quite a long time, maybe even the rest of my life.”
Alexander agreed. Not if he had his way.
As Jenkins closed the door behind them, a blur of orange shot out and settled between Alexander’s feet.
“Who is this?” Beatrice exclaimed in a bright voice as she crouched down to pet Rose.
She was still in her kitten form. She must not be ready to trust Beatrice with her true form yet.
“This is Rose,” Alexander said. “I named her after the rose bushes I found her under.” He had been more surprised than anyone to find the tiny dragon in his garden, and his surprise had only grown when the tiny hatchling transformed into an orange striped kitten in front of his eyes. But transformation or not, leaving her outside hadn’t seemed smart.
And as much as he wanted to share both of his secrets with Beatrice, he could not.
Rose’s identity wasn’t his to share, and even if he wanted to share the details of his curse, it wouldn’t let him.
He waited for a moment until Beatrice stood, smiling down at Rose, and took his arm again. Though they both wore multiple layers, the warm pressure of her hand on his arm was reassuring.
Even if she didn’t know everything, he was no longer alone.
He had always had Jenkins and his wife, but they had kept themselves apart, and he had become very lonely. To have a wife of his own filled a hole inside him that he hadn’t realized existed.
“One moment,” he said, kneeling down and letting Rose climb up onto his shoulder.
“Is your kitten riding on your shoulder?” Beatrice asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “Is that normal for her?”
“It is,” Alexander said, reaching up to scratch Rose under the chin. She purred and rubbed her head against his, digging her claws into his shoulder to hold on. “She’s a strange one.”
“I can see that.” Beatrice’s grip on his arm tightened as the wind began to blow harder.
“Let me show you the gardens,” he said, leading her forward.
“Isn’t it winter?” Beatrice asked with a smile.
“Yes,” he admitted. “But we have a greenhouse, and I think one of our gardeners must have a magic thumb, because our garden tends to remain beautiful for uncommonly long. I believe we even have a few rose bushes still blooming.”
As he spoke, the words filled him with a sense of doubt. Did he have someone on his staff who could use magic? And if he did, would they be able to help him at all? The thought had never occurred to him, but maybe Rose was in his garden for a reason. Maybe she had been drawn there by magic. It had seemed the rose bushes should have long since faded for the year when he had found her curled up underneath them.
As they turned the corner of the manor house and came into view of the greenhouse, a young woman backed out of it with a bucket of dirt in her hands, the door closing behind her. When she saw them, she bobbed a small curtsy, despite her full hands.
“Hello, my lord,” she said.
Alexander nodded. “Hello. May I introduce to you Lady Beatrice Dunham, my wife?” The words felt foreign, and yet they filled him with a warm glow that battled the wind.
“Congratulations, my lord, my lady,” the gardener said, curtsying again. “I believe I am to be Lady Dunham’s maid for the time being,” she said. “I was just finishing in the greenhouse before I ventured inside to clean up.”
Beside him, Beatrice perked up. “You must be Guinevere,” she said, her smile wide enough to brighten her whole face.
“That’s me, my lady,” Guinevere said with an echoing smile, her gaze settling upon the cat perched on his shoulder before looking at him again.
“Is the greenhouse presentable?” he asked.
