Chapter 7: Thirty-One

Ansel's POV

I could not sleep, so I walked the house, which is what I do when a thing will not come out even.

It was past midnight.

The foxglove note was in my coat. The tin was locked in my desk. My wife was somewhere in the east wing, plotting against a teapot.

I told myself I was checking the doors.

On the ground floor, a line of light lay under the pantry door, and behind it someone laughed.

I stopped in the corridor.

It was not a lady's laugh.

It was loud and had a hiccup in the middle, and it went on until someone shushed it.

Then Greta's voice said, "You can't do that, it's cheating."

And my wife's voice said, "It's not cheating if you didn't read the rules."

"Where are the rules?"

"I'm writing them now."

I opened the door.

All three of them looked up.

The pantry table had been cleared, and a candle burned on it.

Greta sat on a flour barrel with a hand of cards.

Bertram sat on a stool with his ledger open beside a pile of copper.

My wife sat at the head with her feet on a sack of apples.

She was in her night robe with her hair down.

I have commanded two thousand men, and I did not know where to put my hands.

"Your Grace," said Bertram, rising. He was not at all alarmed. "We were discussing the household accounts."

"With cards."

"With cards, Your Grace."

"Sit down," said my wife. "You're letting in a draft."

Keep reading free with an account. Start I Became the Bride of a Grand Duke Who's Obsessed with His First Love from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.