Duke of the Beast and the Vicarious Bride - Chapter 68

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

The quiet sincerity in her voice left Fiona with nothing more to say.

In truth, it was Fiona’s defeat. For Marie’s words had pierced the tenderest part of her heart.

They say those who insist they care nothing for a thing are often the most consumed by it.

Fiona was no different. Like a stray dog that flinches from a reaching hand, she had always shied from human warmth, yet she craved it more than anyone. Kindness without cause was a commodity not easily come by. Love was the same. Since her mother’s departure, the affection she had once received was lost to her forever, and Fiona found herself instantly drawn to anyone who showed her even a flicker of liking or need. Yet at the same time, she held them at arm’s length.

Marie’s sincerity, in that sense, shook her.

Someone offering her such genuine feeling? She had never disliked Marie, but now a greater fondness was taking root within her. And that was troubling. For how could she cast out someone who had spoken so plainly?

Perhaps, then, she might simply accept it… The girl had persisted even after such adamant refusal; surely that meant she truly wished to stay of her own accord. The part of her that warned against trusting Marie clashed uncomfortably with the part urging her to yield.

The truth was, Fiona was lonely. Life in the north, without a single soul to rely on, let alone trust, had been arduous and wearying.

She had found some solace in Page, yet the opaque future still loomed before her, and she felt far too frail to navigate it alone.

If, in such circumstances, she might have an ally—someone wholly on her side. Even now, when the husband she had almost begun to trust had turned on her, would it not be a small comfort to have someone to lean on?

‘But can I trust her? What if she stays, only to be disappointed that I am not the person she imagined?’

Old insecurities and anxieties warred within her, rendering her incapable of honesty.

Yet neither could she bring herself to dismiss Marie entirely. So she settled for an answer that was neither here nor there, delivered with characteristic gruffness.

“Suit yourself, then. I never asked you to stay, so do not blame me if you find it hard later.”

And then, afraid she might actually leave after all, she added a hasty concession.

“As for your wages… I shall ask Jayden if they can be increased. You will be working twice as hard as the others here, after all.”

At this, Marie smiled softly, as though that were more than enough. Fiona regarded her silently.

She could not have been much past twenty. Brown hair cut to her shoulders, eyes the colour of hazelnuts. A gentle countenance, a kind gaze.

Until now, Fiona had deliberately avoided studying her too closely, for fear of growing attached. Only now did she commit her features to memory.

‘Not that I am growing attached already, of course.’

Though she knew better than anyone that this was a lie.

‘It was only yesterday that Caligo disappointed me.’

She must be truly foolish, she thought. Incorrigibly so.

“Thank you, my lady. I look forward to serving you well.”

With the practised ease of an experienced maid, Marie drew the moment to a warm and tidy close.

Fiona, like a sulking child finally relenting, gave an awkward nod of her head.

She felt as though she had lost some battle. And yet, her heart was warm.

That morning, life had seemed utterly hopeless. Now, it had gifted her a small measure of hope once more.

Life, she reflected, had a habit of tempering her in just such a fashion.

* * *

After the great bustle of departure, the contingent bound for the capital finally took its leave. There was something almost relieved in the retreating backs of those who left the northern cold behind them.