Page 26 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
He is a lot more deserving of affection than the Duke.
“It wouldn’t be against my—” she begins.
“I’m not sure what you know of the marital act, but it shouldn’t be a chore—something you feel obligated to do. It should be something that both parties really,reallyenjoy doing.”
Selene swallows, her mouth feeling oddly dry. There’s something about the way he says ‘really’.Sex for her has never been about desire. Are women really supposed to enjoy it that much?“You sound like you have some experience.”
He laughs. “A story for another night, maybe,” he said. “Good night, Selene.”
It is only as she’s falling asleep that she realises Dorian didn’t answer her question.
The next morning, Dorian takes her, as promised, to tour the village. He takes a simple open-topped carriage that drives himself. Selene feels very strange sitting next to him, not because of how close they are, but because she’s sittingup top.Her mother would think her a common village maid.
She’s not sure what she expected from the village of Lower Thornmere—perhaps a brief stroll through the cobbled streets, a few polite nods to the townspeople, an inquiry about young women looking for employment, and nothing more. Instead, Dorian takes them down a winding road that runs through the heart of the village, where houses sit close together, their chimneys curling wisps of smoke into the pale morning sky.
The village feels ancient, with its crooked rooftops and flower-boxed windows, each stone of the buildings wornwith time and history. The air is thick with the smell of fresh bread and wood smoke, and as they drive, the townsfolk stop to greet Dorian with familiar smiles and friendly waves. A child tugs on his sleeve, giggling, and he bends down to ruffle the boy’s hair. One woman waves a hand from her doorstep, her grin wide, and Dorian nods back, calling her by name as though they’ve known each other for years.
“Good morning, Lord Dorian!” calls a young man, tipping his hat in a gesture of respect. Dorian waves back with a smile, and the young man’s face lights up, as though the greeting is a gift in itself.
Selene watches closely, noticing how the villagers seem so comfortable with him. One woman approaches them, holding a small bundle of wildflowers. “For the lady,” she says with a wink, pressing the flowers into Selene’s hands.
Selene takes them, smiling at the unexpected kindness. The woman nods, then disappears back into her home, calling out a cheery farewell to Dorian.
As they continue their tour, more villagers come forward, offering her little tokens of hospitality. A man with a basket of freshly baked bread hands her a warm loaf, his face creased in a knowing smile. “You’ll need this for lunch, my lady.”
Another woman, older and wrapped in a thick shawl, gives her a jar of honey, the amber liquid gleaming in the sun. “For tea,” she says. No coins change hands, only smiles and soft-spoken words. It’s the same everywhere. A farmer hands her a jar of jam, a candle-maker offers a beeswax candle. No one asks for payment.
“Are these wedding gifts?” she asks.
“You’ll usually find the people here are quite generous,” he says. “But yes, they do seem unusually so today. They’re obviouslyexcited to meet you.”
As they reach the edge of the village, Dorian stops and gestures to a small stone building tucked between two larger structures. “That’s the inn,” he says. “The innkeeper, Charles, is a fountain of knowledge. If we want to inquire about lady’s maids, he’s our best bet.”
Selene looks at the inn, noting its humble exterior. It’s nothing like the grand dining halls and salons she’s accustomed to. “It looks... welcoming,” she remarks, the corner of her mouth curving into a smile.
Dorian helps her down from the carriage, and they head inside. The inn is warm and dimly lit. The fire crackles in a large hearth, and the low murmur of conversation quiets momentarily as Dorian enters.
Behind the bar stands the innkeeper, a tall man with graying hair and a broad, friendly face. He’s wiping down a mug when he spots Dorian, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Well, I’ll be,” the innkeeper says, setting the mug down. “I heard the rumours, but…” His eyes shift to Selene, standing just behind Dorian. “You didn’t tell anything to us, my lord. How dare you keep such a beautiful wife a secret.”
Dorian smiles, a little sheepish. “I’m sure it wasn’t the kind of news you needed, Charles.”
Charles laughs, then looks at Selene with a broad grin. “You’re the new Lady Nightbloom, then?” His voice takes on a warm, welcoming tone, and he offers her a quick bow. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady. I wish I could say we’ve heard so much about you.”
“It was a whirlwind affair,” Dorian tells him. “I shall give you the details sometime.”
When he’s thought of them,Selene realises.
Charles laughs heartily. “Ah, I see. Well, my lord, we’d love to have you both in for dinner sometime. No charge, of course. A wedding gift from the inn to the new lady of the house!”
“Thank you, Charles,” Dorian says, his voice warm. “I’ll take you up on that soon, I’m sure. But today, I’m just here to let you know I’m looking for a lady’s maid for my wife. Someone reliable with a little experience.”
“Of course. I’ll keep an eye out, my lord. We’ve got a few girls here in the village who’ve been looking for work. I’ll make sure to send someone by tomorrow, if that works for you?”
“Perfect,” Dorian replies, nodding. “Thank you, Charles.”
The innkeeper waves them off, still grinning widely.
