Page 22 of A Wallflower's Convenient Duke
Blanche’s confidence grew. "Legend has it that this dagger was forged in an age of upheaval, when kingdoms crumbled and heroes rose from obscurity. It passed from hand to hand, carried by those destined to shape history. First, a Greek warrior who fought to free his people from oppression—"
Philip chuckled, catching on to the game. "And then a noble knight, defending his realm against mythical creatures? Or perhaps a sorcerer, using it to seal away an ancient evil?"
A playful smile tugged at Blanche’s lips. "Or maybe—just maybe—it became the symbol of a forbidden love. Two souls from warring factions, drawn together by their admiration of its beauty, its history..."
Philip tilted his head, considering. "An intriguing notion. Love has a way of transcending even the greatest divides."
Blanche’s breath hitched. She did not know if he spoke of the story they were spinning—or something else entirely.
The more they spoke, the more the barrier between them frayed.
But doubt lingered, shadowing the warmth of the moment. Was Philip simply trying to impress those around them? To convince society that theirs was a legitimate union? Or did he, too, feel the stirring of something between them?
She did not know.
Blanche had always been certain of her place in history, of the artefacts she studied, the knowledge she pursued. But when it came to Philip, to their marriage, to the quiet hope unfurling within her—she was utterly lost.
As they moved on from the dagger, her heart remained divided.
She did not know what would come next, nor what to expect from Philip. But at least, for now, she could set aside the whispers of the ton.
One way or another, they would weather this storm.
And perhaps, just perhaps, they might emerge from it stronger than before.
