Page 22 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
She remembers she said nothing when they bullied him.
Why, by The Four, would he agree to marry her?
She sips the tea, ashamed of her past self. The tea is good, but he is right; it does need honey.
“What will you tell your friends?” he asks. “About why you married me?”
Selene hasn’t really thought that far ahead. She is sure the news of her elopement has spread by now. Many will have questions. She will likely be receiving letters in the next few days.
“I’m not sure,” she admits.
“We should definitely get our stories straight.”
“I suppose we should go along with what you told my parents. How we reconnected at your father’s funeral, married in secret on the night of the ball…”
“Won’t your friends think that’s odd?”
She hesitates. Yes, they will find it odd. They will find it scandalous. They might even find it romantic. But unlike Dorian’s servants, she doesn’t think they will find it unbelievable. She thinks they will find it thoroughly believable that she wouldn’t tell them she has fallen for someone of poor social standing, and that she has pretended to like the Duke, afraid of her parents’ ire.
“I’m sure I can find a way to convince them.”
Dorian nods. “All right, then.”
They finish the rest of the meal in relative silence. Selene remarks upon the fine weather; Dorian reads her the news. After breakfast is whisked away, Mrs Everfrost escorts her back to her room to dress.
“I hope the room is satisfactory,” she remarks. “I had very little time to get anything ready. We can change anything you like.”
A complete renovation is in order, but Selene isn’t sure what leeway she has to redecorate or what budget she has. These ought to have been things they discussed while drawing up the marriage contract with her parents, but of course, they skipped a few steps.
“Everything is quite comfortable,” she tells her, which isn’t a lie but isn’t exactly the truth either.
“I’m sure you’re used to finer things,” Mrs Everfrost says, taking in the silk of Selene’s dress and brushing it down.
Selene’s rooms in the Duke’s house had been second only to the Queen of Haverland’s, but she would still pick these ones and the kindness she has been shown thus far over the luxury of her old life. It’s just… going to take some getting used to.
She doesn’t know how to explain any of this to Mrs Everfrost, though she worries her silence will be taken as an agreement.
“There are some things more important than fine things,” Selene manages.
Mrs Everfrost beams. Selene thinks she is doing well so far. The importance of forming a good relationship with one’s housekeeper has been stressed on her quite a lot growing up. She never did quite see eye-to-eye with Mrs Forthwing, Duke Drakefell’s housekeeper, though she was much beloved by the rest of the household.
“Right you are, my lady.” Mrs Everfrost finishes arranging the lace on Selene’s sleeves. “Now, are you ready for that tour?”
“Indeed, Mrs Everfrost.” Selene has never turned down a tour in her life, and there is something exciting about knowing that she can go anywhere here—not a room is barred to her except for Dorian’s study. Abandoned or not, she wants to see it all.
“Please,” Mrs Everfrost says, an almost conspiratorial glint in her eye, “call me Ariella, if it pleases you. No one calls me Mrs Everfrost unless they want something from me.”
It is another impropriety. Housekeepers are always styled asMrs.But Selene finds she doesn’t mind very much. She has no other friends here. Improper or not, she welcomes the mere suggestion of one.
“Ariella,” she says, practising the sound. “It’s a lovely name.”
“Yours too, my lady.”
It occurs to Selene then that she is Selene Nightbloom now. Women always take on the names of their husbands unless their husbands are marrying far above their station. Dorian might be a social outcast, but he is still a Lord.
The name sounds strange to her, though. Not quite hers.
She thinks she prefers it to Drakefell, though.
