Chapter 19 #3
Seraphina leaned in closer, eyeing the reptile on Alice’s palm. “Do you want to keep him?” she asked softly.
William’s head snapped toward her, his eyes wide with incredulity. “She cannot keep a toad, Seraphina.”
“Why ever not?” Seraphina countered smoothly, looking up at him with a tilt of her chin.
“The Common European Toad, Bufo bufo is actually a remarkably docile creature. They are nocturnal hunters that feast on garden pests, and they possess a fascinating homing instinct, often returning to the exact same damp hollow every year. He could be a most effective guardian of the manor gardens.”
William stared at her, flabbergasted. “It is a wild, warty amphibian, not a garden ornament. It is not a pet.”
Seraphina leaned slightly closer to William, lowering her voice. “Let her have this moment. She will grow out of it in a day or two once the novelty fades.”
“We cannot bank on the assumption that she will simply grow out of it,” William whispered back. “What if she decides to raise it in her bedchamber? What if it lays eggs? Are we to host a nursery of toad babies in Norwyn Manor?”
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. “Well, unless you have a duckpond hidden beneath the floorboards of her bedchamber, we are entirely safe from an infestation.”
“That is hardly the point,” William grumbled. “It belongs in the mud.”
“No.”
Alice’s voice came again, cutting straight through their back-and-forth.
Both William and Seraphina stopped mid-debate, turning in perfect unison to look at her.
“No?” William repeated carefully, blinking in surprise.
Alice shook her head. Without another word, she gently leaned forward and placed the toad onto the soft grass at the edge of the blanket.
The toad sat frozen for a single beat, and then launched itself into the clover with a series of awkward hops.
Alice burst into a fit of giggles, watching the toad scramble out of sight into the rose bushes.
Seraphina let out a soft laugh, her eyes shining as she looked from the disappearing toad back to Alice’s face. “Well, that settles the matter. Now then, young lady, how about we wash those hands, and then we can finally eat?”
Alice gave a firm nod and rose from the blanket. William settled back, leaning on one elbow, a glass of lemonade resting in his hand as he watched the two of them scurry towards the gate.
When he had agreed to this marriage of convenience, he had envisioned a functional and highly practical arrangement.
He had convinced himself that he was buying security for Alice, while giving Seraphina a sanctuary from her pursuers.
He had fully intended to keep his distance, to remain buried in his ledgers, his parliamentary reports, and his boring world.
He had sworn to himself that he wanted no distractions, no emotional entanglements, and certainly no domestic complications.
He was a man meant for duty, for burdens, for carrying the weight of the Norwyn legacy alone.
Yet, as he sat here on the grass watching Seraphina and Alice, William realized something.
He liked this. He liked the warmth of it.
He liked the smell of crushed clover, the shade of the oak, and the utter lack of formal pretense.
He liked that Seraphina had stepped into his burdened world and had effortlessly taken the reins of something that bothered him so deeply.
She had eased a weight from his shoulders before he had even possessed the wisdom to admit he was drowning under it.
He had spent his whole life believing that control was something a man had to maintain through discipline, isolation, and force of will. He had believed that allowing anyone else into his inner sanctum was a vulnerability, a flaw in his armor that would eventually lead to ruin.
But William realized that letting her take control of this part of his life was the most brilliant, freeing thing he had ever done.
Moments later, the rustle of grass signaled their return from the small stone fountain near the garden wall. Seraphina settled back onto the blanket, her skirts spreading neatly around her, while Alice dropped down beside her with clean, damp hands and flushed, happy cheeks.
They began to dig into the roasted chicken, buttered rolls, and fresh summer berries, giggling to themselves.
He liked this arrangement. He liked it far more than he had ever bargained for, far more than a sensible, rational man had any right to like a marriage built on a contract.
It was changing him. It was dismantling the walls he had spent years building around his heart, stripping away his solemnity, and replacing it with something vibrant, fierce, and alive.
As if sensing his stare, Seraphina turned her head. She caught his eye, seeing him watching her. But she did not look away. Instead, she offered him a small smile, like a secret shared between two people.
William felt that skip in his chest recur, the surge of heat blooming beneath his collar. But this time, he didn’t try to rationalize it. He simply lifted his glass of lemonade to her in a silent toast, accepted the fever, and smiled back.