“It’s…” I searched for the right words. “Different. More chaotic than I’m comfortable with. But not unmanageable.”
“That’s a very strategic assessment,” he said with a slight smile. “What I’m really asking is, are you completely terrified, or only moderately terrified?”
I laughed. “Moderately terrified. Maybe leaning toward significantly terrified during moments involving Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie.”
“That’s fair.” His smile widened. “They mean well, but they are rather intense.”
Our breakfast magically floated into the room, plates and teacups gently lowering down in front of us, followed by our meals. True to Dominic’s order, a small dish of fresh meat settled in front for Savory, the meat cut into perfectly sized pieces and arranged with surprising artistry. Another dish with both seeds was placed beside the meat.
The presentation shows respect,Savory said, hopping onto the table to examine her meal.As does the quality of the cut. Your husband understands that how we treat the smallest members of our household speaks most of our character.
I glanced at Dominic, who was carefully not watching Savory but clearly hoping she approved. The thoughtfulness in the gesture made warmth unfurl in my chest.
“Savory’s pleased with her meal,” I said, and he nodded, his posture loosening.
We ate for a few minutes, and I was surprised by how easy it felt. I didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with conversation or fumble for topics. For now, we were just two people sharing a meal while morning light painted patterns across the table.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said in the greenhouse,” Dominic said after swallowing a sip of his tea. “About there always being a pattern. You’re right, of course. I’ve been too close to the problem to see it clearly.”
“Sometimes that happens,” I said, sipping my primwort. It was perfectly brewed, with enough honey to balance the bitterness. “When you’re dealing with something every day, the details tend to blur together.”
“Exactly.” He leaned forward, and I couldn’t avoid noticing the way his eyes caught the light, the strong line of his jaw, and the genuine interest in his expression as he listened to me speak. “Your analytical approach could help if you’re willing to work on this together.”
“I am. I want to help.”
His smile grew warmer, reaching his eyes in a way that made my pulse stutter. “I think we could make a good team, Sasha. Your strategy and my intuition. Your structure and my flexibility.”
“Complementary approaches,” I said, already seeing the potential in combining our strengths.
“Exactly.”
I took another sip of primwort, letting myself imagine what this marriage could become. Not just an alliance, but a true partnership. Working together to solve problems. Learning to trust each other’s strengths. Maybe even finding something deeper than political necessity. The thought stirred real attraction, but I caught it quickly. Letting my heart get involved could lead to pain, and I couldn’t bear feeling the way I had after losing my parents. Better to focus on fixing things, something I’d done after, helping Grandmother make sure my sisters had all they needed.
The reminder made it easier to see his depth as useful for the alliance, nothing more.
Yet for the first time since the disastrous wedding ceremony, I felt excited, and I worried about what that might mean.
“So about the court schedule,” Dominic said, reaching for a piece of toast. “There are a few events this week you should know about. Nothing too overwhelming, mostly informal gatherings where you can meet the key lords and ladies without the pressure of?—”
A giggle erupted from him.
I froze, my cup of primwort halfway to my lips.
He tried to continue speaking, but another laugh burst out, then another. Within seconds, he was doubling over,his shoulders shaking with the same uncontrollable chuckling that had plagued our wedding ceremony.
The warmth in my chest turned to ice.
“I’m—” He giggled. “I’m sorry, I can’t—” Another laugh burst from him, this one edged with desperation. “Fates, not again.”
The start of the friendship we’d built over breakfast crumpled like broken glass. I was left staring at my giggling husband while my excitement withered like the dying plants in his greenhouse.
Whatever had caused yesterday’s disaster was still here, still affecting him, still standing between us like a wall I didn’t know how to breach. I should be grateful for that. It helped me keep distance between us.
As Dominic struggled to control his laughter, I touched my locket and rebuilt my defensive walls, brick by careful brick.
CHAPTER FIVE
DOMINIC
