My husbands first love

Chapter || 41

Elizabeth awoke to the gentle hum of voices beyond her door, the morning light spilling into her chambers like liquid gold. The air smelled faintly of fresh bread and summer blooms drifting in from the gardens. She stretched, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, and pushed the covers aside.

Her mind was blank for a moment, blissfully free of thought, until the events of yesterday came rushing back. The lake. The kiss. The way his hands had held her, unrelenting yet careful. Heat flushed through her, and she pressed her fingers against her lips, as if the touch would erase the memory, erase the way her body had betrayed her.

She slipped out of the bed and walked towards her dress when she noticed a folded piece of parchment sitting atop it. Her brow furrowed. She reached for it and unfolded it, only for her breath to catch in her throat. The handwriting was hers.

'I love Maximilian. I love Maximilian.'

Her hands trembled slightly as she read the words over and over, her heart pounding. When had she written this? Had she been so affected that she had sleepwalked and poured her hidden thoughts onto paper? A surge of panic welled up inside her. No one could see this, especially not him. She hastily folded the parchment and shoved it deep into the drawer, pressing it shut as if that alone could lock away the truth. When did Elizabeth let someone so much into her heart?

A knock at the door startled her, and she quickly stood, smoothing out the wrinkles of her nightdress. "Come in."

A maid entered with a tray of tea and breakfast, setting it on the small table by the window. "My lady, The Count and Countess requested your presence in the drawing room this morning," she said, curtsying before taking her leave.

Elizabeth dressed quickly, hoping the cool wash of water against her face would rid her of the lingering warmth in her cheeks. When she finally stepped into the drawing room, she found the Count and Countess seated, along with Maximilian standing near the grand window, his back to her. He turned when she entered, and their gazes locked. His fingers brushed over his lips, as if he, too, was reliving the kiss from yesterday. Her stomach turned upside down.

The Count cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Elizabeth, we were discussing the festival in town tonight. It's a lively occasion, and we thought you might enjoy attending."

Elizabeth brightened slightly. A festival. A distraction. A chance to lose herself in the colors and sounds of the bustling streets, if only for a night.

"However," the Countess added, folding her hands delicately in her lap, "we are concerned about your safety. There have been rumors of unrest, and we would not feel at ease letting you go alone."

Elizabeth's lips parted, already prepared to argue, but she never got the chance.

"I will accompany her," Maximilian stated, his voice calm yet unwavering.

Elizabeth snapped her head toward him. "That won't be necessary."

The Count smiled, seemingly oblivious to her reluctance and shook his head. "Nonsense. The General is more than capable of ensuring your safety. This arrangement is perfect."

Elizabeth clenched her fists at her sides. "I don't need a guard," she insisted. "I can take care of myself." The sudden outburst of stubbornness shocked the count and countess, they had never seen Elizabeth this way with her anger clearly displayed on her face.

Maximilian stepped closer, tilting his head slightly down to her face so only she can hear. "And yet, the last time you went wandering alone, you ended up falling in a lake."

Her face burned. "That was—"

"Either way, you're only going if the General is going with you. It's Settled, then," the Count interjected, pleased. "Elizabeth, you will go to the festival, and he will accompany you. You may both leave after dinner."