The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 60: Warmth Before Winter

The garden remained still, wrapped in morning gold. Fish drifted beneath the pond's surface, and somewhere beyond the hedges, a bird took flight.

Marcus drew in a slow breath before speaking. "Talking about our daughter... do you remember what happened ten years ago in Valmont? Surely you haven't forgotten." A small, quiet chuckle slipped from his lips.

Jean did not answer at once. She reached for her teacup and lifted it carefully, taking a slow sip as the warmth ran down her throat. "Yes. When we took her to Valmont." Her fingers tightened slightly around the porcelain. "It took me five months to discover she was the one that the people whispered about. The blue-cloaked figure with the silver mask... the one who hunted monsters at night." 

She let out a faint, disbelieving breath. "Unbelievable."

Marcus smiled, something between pride and amusement. "You scolded her for days and even made sure she stayed in her room." his voice softened with memory. "I still remember the murmurs in Port Aurelius. They said that when monsters prowled beneath the moon, a hunter clad in silver would rise from the dark."

He lifted his fork and cut a small piece of cake. "Were you not a little harsh with her?"

"Perhaps I was." Her gaze hardened. "But I could not endure her reckless sense of nobility. Do you really believe fortune would stay at her side if she kept fighting those monsters? What if one day we learned she had vanished... died somewhere we could not even find?" Her brow furrowed, and her voice grew tight. "I refuse to lose her again. Not like we did in the ravine."

Silence settled between them, broken only by the distant chirping of birds.

Understanding the fear beneath his wife's words, Marcus pressed his lips into a thin line. Some of his earlier lightness faded.

"Jean," he said gently, though doubt lingered in his eyes, "are you not underestimating her? I will not deny that I feared for her as well. I still do. But have you considered that by holding her so tightly... you may be the reason she feels the need to hide things from you?"

"What do you mean?" Jean asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"That you are doubting her strength," Marcus replied.

He paused, cutting another piece of cake, though he did not eat it at once. His gaze lowered, thoughtful.

"Looking back, after she was remade by the Lightweaver, I found myself regretting our decision." His jaw tightened faintly. "There were nights when I wondered whether it was right. We failed our daughter once... and instead of learning to bear that grief, we took her body and allowed that entity to craft someone new within it."

He finally took a bite, chewing slowly, as if the words themselves were difficult to swallow.

"We moved on, not with acceptance, but with defiance. And in doing so, we raised someone who was not the child we lost." A quiet exhale escaped him. "So we did the only thing we could. We raised her well. That was how I chose to honor the daughter we failed... and perhaps repay a fraction of that sin."

His fingers tightened slightly around the fork.

"My family may wear a noble title, but it was founded by a knight four centuries ago. I would have shamed my own lineage if I hadn't taught her the ways of combat and weaponry. And with her personal maid back then, once a traveler herself, how could she not grow restless?"

Jean said nothing.

"I am not saying your worry is wrong," he continued more gently. "But perhaps we must accept who she truly is. Have we not done enough for her? We turned away every proposal from greedy nobles who sought her for her looks. Because of that, she has reached twenty-five and remains unwed."