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SOPHIE was in the middle of her rounds, making sure to greet each guest personally, when she noticed something unusual.
“Good afternoon,” she said, approaching a lone gentleman. “I’m so glad you could make it today. Lord Edvard Northman, I presume?”
“I am,” the forty-something dandy replied, his baritone voice low and resonant.
Arasyll’s new husband.
He was every bit as dashing and composed as Arasyll’s letters had claimed—perhaps even more so. But if he was here, then where was…?
Sophie glanced around the venue. No sign of her.
Noticing this, Lord Northman offered a kind, slightly rueful smile. “I must apologize, Ms. Sophie. Arasyll…couldn’t make it today.”
Sophie’s voice evaporated. Arasyll couldn’t make it? When she had written how much she was looking forward to it? When she’d said she’d be there no matter what?
“Is Lady Arasyll quite all right?” Sophie finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
He frowned. “Two days before we were slated to leave, she…”
The words trailed off, and Sophie’s heart lurched. Her lips parted, trembling, when something unexpected happened.
A soft pink crept into Lord Northman’s weathered, dignified cheeks. The meaning of his hesitation became immediately clear to Sophie—and it wasn’t anything to worry over. Quite the opposite, actually.
“She’s expecting, isn’t she?” Sophie said, her face lighting up. “Oh, congratulations!”
Tears welled in her eyes, but before they could spill, a neatly folded handkerchief appeared—Kurt, ever at her side.
“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that,” she said again, dabbing carefully at her eyes, her smile wide and warm.
“Thank you,” Lord Northman replied. “She wanted desperately to attend, of course. But, at my insistence, she relented. If anything were to happen to her on the road, I… I know I’d never forgive myself.”
“Well, thank you,” Sophie said softly. “For stopping her. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
“Yes, well, I had to pry her off the floor.”
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. Knowing Arasyll, that wasn’t just a figure of speech. Sophie could easily imagine her. Stubborn, emotional, dead set on coming. Still, the image of her prostrating herself was more than she’d expected.
She looked at the man standing before her—a man who had once lost a wife and child to childbirth. The joy he must have felt at Arasyll’s pregnancy… It had to have been accompanied by fear. Bone-deep, unspeakable fear. If something were to happen again—if he were to lose her or the child…
Sophie briskly shifted the conversation. “I hope you’ve been taking proper care of Lady Arasyll,” she said. “She’s the type to take everything on herself when left alone. Is she doing well? Has she been overdoing it?”
Lord Northman gave a quiet, wry smile. “You know, when word spread that I’d be marrying an eighteen-year-old girl from the capital, reactions were mixed among the household. The younger servants were curious, but the older ones were…decidedly less than thrilled. They feared she’d neglect the graves of my late wife and child. That she’d be a pampered city girl who wouldn’t last a month in the countryside. One who’d faint at the mention of chopping firewood or preparing the root cellar for winter. Not me, of course; I’d met her by then. But for some of the others, well… Let’s just say they were practically mourning. Until they met her, that is.”
“I believe that.” Sophie nodded.
Lord Northman chuckled quietly. His demeanor vibrated as though he’d been impatiently waiting to get to this part of the conversation. “Their graves are cleaner than ever. Winter preparations were twice as lively as they’ve ever been. And if the staff doesn’t step in, she ends up doing twice the work of the best among them. Does that answer your question?”
“I believe it does.”
Sophie smiled. Just in time for Lord Northman to return one of his own. The kind that just radiated kindness. The kind that crinkled the face all over.
“You’re just as Arasyll described,” he said. “Kind, magnanimous—like gentle moonlight that forgives everyone it touches. So lovely, I almost hesitate to let my gaze linger.”
Sophie offered a gracious smile. She felt a prickle of frost brushing against her from the right but chose not to pay any attention to it.
“If you’ll indulge me a moment, I’d like to share a small anecdote. About my birthday, just the other day.” Lord Northman’s piercing blue eyes rested attentively on Sophie.
“A belated happy birthday,” Sophie said.
“Thank you. Knowing her, I suspected she’d have something planned. I had a meeting that day, and on my way home, I deliberately entered through the rear gate. I surreptitiously made my way through the house to the front entrance, and sure enough, there she was. Standing just inside the door, clutching a basket full of flower petals and paper confetti, waiting for me to walk in so she could shower me in celebration.”
“Oh, Lady Arasyll, ever the one for surprises.” Sophie chuckled.
Such a childlike, endearing quality. She could just picture Arasyll planning it between her duties and studies, counting down the days, barely able to stay still as the moment drew nearer and nearer…
“As I approached her from behind,” Northman went on, “I could see she was…trembling. Trembling with excitement.”
Sophie’s smile softened. “…Yes.”
“She was so thrilled. So eager to make it perfect.”
Sophie reached for Kurt’s breast pocket and retrieved the handkerchief tucked inside, offering it to Lord Northman.
He accepted it with quiet gratitude, dabbing at his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. But seeing her there like that…I just couldn’t help myself. I ran up, and with tears streaking from my eyes, I hugged her from behind. I just had to.”
His voice cracked. Sophie felt tears rising in her own eyes. She blinked them back with a sad, understanding smile.
Oh, Lady Arasyll.
Her thoughts turned to that dear friend somewhere far away.
I’m so happy for you, my lady. Truly, deeply happy.
Happy that the girl with her hair streaked angrily across her face, who once looked at the world with hurt and suspicion, no longer lives in this world.
Happy that you now love and are loved. That you’ve found a new life in the north, one you and your beloved will build and nurture together.
“Do come visit us sometime, Ms. Sophie,” Lord Northman said. “We’ll welcome you with everything we have.”
“It’s a promise,” Sophie said. She wiped at her eyes, then lowered into a graceful, elegant bow.
“And you, Kurt Ozhorn,” Northman continued, turning toward him.
“Yes?”
“You’ve won over the moon. Treasure it—or someone else just might. It’s good you’re so passionate about your work, but you should spare some of that attention for your wife every now and then.”
“Thank you for the advice.”
Kurt placed a hand over his heart and bowed as if sealing a vow.