“And if they reject us? If society decides that the Beast of Thornwick and his scandalous bride are unfit for polite company?”
“Then we shall make our own company.” She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him in the candlelight. “We will fill this castle with friends who see us clearly—who value us for who we are, not who society thinks we ought to be. We will host our own gatherings, establish our own standards, build our own world.”
He laughed softly—the warm sound she had come to treasure—and pulled her down for a kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Have I told you that today?”
“Only seventeen times. I was beginning to feel neglected.”
“Then I must remedy that oversight.”
He rolled her beneath him, and for a while, there were no more words.
***
But even within the warmth of their small refuge, shadows were beginning to gather.
The next morning, Fiona encountered Mrs Blackley in the corridor and immediately noticed the housekeeper’s expression—carefully composed in a way that suggested concealment rather than calm.
“Mrs Blackley.” Fiona paused. “Is something the matter?”
A hesitation, scarcely perceptible. “Nothing of consequence, miss.”
“You are a very poor liar. What is it?”
Mrs Blackley sighed softly, the mask slipping. “There has been… talk. In the village. About you and His Grace.”
“Well, I imagine there has been talk since I arrived. That is hardly new.”
“This is different.” The housekeeper lowered her voice. “The stories have become… specific. Someone has been spreading tales about the two of you—about what happens in this house after dark. The vicar’s wife has declared she will no longer purchase goods from any merchant who supplies Thornwick. Several of the tenant farmers’ wives have stopped speaking to our kitchen staff.”
A chill crept through Fiona.
“What sort of stories?”
“The sort polite women do not repeat.” Mrs Blackley’s mouth tightened. “I do not know who began them, or how they claim to know what they know. But they are spreading, miss. And they grow uglier by the day.”
“Does His Grace know?”
“I have not yet told him.” She hesitated. “He has seemed… so happy, miss. Happier than I have seen him in many years. I did not wish to be the one to spoil it.”
Fiona understood. She understood all too well.
“I will tell him,” she said quietly. “He deserves to know. But… not today. Let us have one more day of peace before the storm arrives.”
Mrs Blackley nodded slowly. “As you wish, miss.”
She moved away down the corridor, leaving Fiona standing alone with the weight of what she had learned.
The world was closing in. The fragile refuge they had built around themselves was beginning to crack. Soon—very soon—they would have to face the consequences of their choices.
But not today.
Today, she would hold fast to the happiness they had found.
Tomorrow, she would tell Christian the truth.
And together they would face whatever came next.
