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Good God. This stuff is delicious.

Alessia places a cup of coffee in front of me and takes a seat.

“Okay. I would love to see Angwin.”

I grin. “I could get used to this, you know.” And I raise a piece of bubble bread in salute to my wife.

“You do not have a choice.” Alessia smirks.

“But you do. You know you don’t have to do this. We could go out to eat, or we could hire some help.”

“I want to do it. For you. It is my job.”

And there it is, her upbringing and our cultural divide. I don’t know any women like her. She’s waited on the men in her life for years, and her expectations are limited by that. I never thought I’d marry such a domesticated woman. Will she ever get over this?

I mean, I like that she wants to care for me.

Mate.

Okay, I love that she wants to care for me.

But I want Alessia to have options. The sooner we move to somewhere bigger, the better. We can get some help, and she won’t have to do this. Besides, there are houses to run, estates to oversee, and people to manage.

Mate. It’s a lot.

“I do not know what I would do if I didn’t cook and clean for you,” she adds as she takes a bite of bubble bread and butter.

“I’m sure you’ll be busy once we’ve established you as countess.”

Alessia’s eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

“Staff to manage, houses to run, functions to organize and attend.”

She gasps, her dark eyes stricken with alarm.

“Sorry.” I shrug. “It comes with the territory. Don’t look so worried. You’ll be fine.”

“I think I need lessons!” she exclaims.

“Lessons?” And my mother’s contemptuous offer of “finishing school” pops unwelcome into my mind.

“Yes. There must be something I can read, or… a school I can…” Her voice tails off.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes,” she responds emphatically.

“Well, I’m sure we can find something. If you want. If it would give you confidence.”

She smiles. “Yes. That is exactly what I need.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I was not born into this… life. I don’t want to let you down.”

I laugh. “It’s me that should be saying that to you. You are perfect the way you are, but we could look into lessons, if that’s what you want.”

Alessia smiles, her eyes shining.

Etiquette lessons.

How did my mother know?

“I’ll unpack.” I change the subject, irritated that my mother was right. “Afterward, we could go to Angwin. Go shopping, out for lunch, whatever you want to do.”

Alessia nods. “Yes. I’d like that. And I have unpacked your clothes.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“I would like to go to the store. We need cooking…um…equipment.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, I suppose we do. I am not much of a cook.”

“You make a good breakfast.”

I grin, remembering our time at the Hideout. “I do. Okay. Peter Jones is probably the best place to go. I’ve never shopped for that stuff. We could look online. We could also get you some new clothes. That reminds me—”

* * *

Maxim stands and leaves the room only to return a few moments later with four envelopes addressed to Alessia Trevelyan. Alessia examines them, turning them in her hands.

What could these be?

“I arranged these while we were away. Bank cards. And their PINs. You’ll need them. One’s a debit card. The other is a credit card.”

“Money?” she says, staring at him. “For me?” She’s stunned.

“Yes. For you. Magic cards, you called them once. They’re not magic; let me stress that. So don’t go crazy.” He gives her a crooked smile.

And just like that, the issue of money is resolved.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Maxim frowns. “You’re my wife.”

And once more, Alessia tries to quell her rising panic at her good fortune… when she thinks of what might have been. An image of Bleriana crosses her mind again, and her thoughts take a darker turn.

Where is she?

Is she okay?

Could Alessia find her?

“I’ll wash up,” Maxim says, interrupting her thoughts.

“No. No, you won’t. I’ll do it.”

Maxim laughs. “This isn’t up for discussion. I can wash up. And load a dishwasher. Let’s do a surprise visit to Angwin when I’m done.” He rises, taking his breakfast plate and coffee cup with him.

* * *

Angwin is nestled in the Cotswold hills near Chipping Norton. In the Jag, I turn off the road and glide through the main gate and along the majestic beech-lined driveway toward the property.

“Uau,” Alessia breathes as she catches sight of the main house in all its Palladian splendor, with its four Corinthian columns and impressive pediment. Between the stark beeches, it dominates the groomed landscape in honeyed stone.

“Yes. That’s Angwin.”

She grins at me with a suitable look of awe on her face.

I pull into the visitors’ parking lot, which I’m pleased to see is busy. Normally, I would park around the back of the house near the stables, but I want to keep our visit low-key. I haven’t warned anyone we’re coming, and I don’t want to overwhelm my new countess. “Ready?” I ask as I switch off the engine. Alessia’s smile is answer enough.

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