The War Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The crowd parted subtly as we entered, a practiced ripple of curiosity and protocol. Faces turned and champagne glasses lowered.Near the centre of the room, by the marble hearth, stood Lord Elric Storm. His presence commanding even in his stillness. He was speaking to a cluster of men in tailored black, but his gaze shifted the moment we stepped into the light."Son," he said with a clipped nod, then turned to me. "Clara."I dipped in a careful curtsey. "My Lord."He took a step forward and offered a rare, approving smile. "You look the part, both of you."I wasn't sure what that part was, but I accepted the compliment with a graceful tilt of my head.Lord Storm clasped Darrell's shoulders briefly. "You've cleaned up well boy. Almost convinced me you enjoy this things."Darrell's mouth twitched. "Let's not push our luck."Then Lord Storm turned to me again, his eyes scanning the room before resting back on mine. This reception is tastefully balanced and not overdone.""Thank you," I

The morning light filtered in softly through the bedroom windows, brushing across the carved posts of the bed and the low hum of domestic noise outside.My maid, Lara, fastened the last button at the back of my gown with gentle fingers. "You look lovely, my lady," she said stepping back. "Lord Storm is waiting for you outside your chambers."I stiffened slightly. "He is?""Yes, my lady."I gave a faint nod, smoothed my skirts and stepped into the hallway.Darrell stood exactly where she said he would be— straight–backed in a tailored navy coat, the gold trim catching the morning light. His hands were loosely clasped behind him. When he turned to see me, something in his expression shifted, just slightly."Good morning," he said."Morning," I replied, curt and even. My voice clipped the air between us like a closing door.He blinked, not quite taken aback, but watching me closely.We began walking side by side towards the dining room."Is something bothering you?" He asked after a long

The next morning brought with it a pale sun and skies heavy with the promises of snow. The manor grounds glistened under a thin crust of frost, and the air nipped at Clara's cheeks the moment she stepped outside.A polished black carriage waited at the base of the stone steps, it's brass lanterns glinting dimly in the cold light. Darrell stood beside it, wrapped in a heavy navy coat lined with fur, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. When he saw me, his posture straightened slightly.I descended carefully, my boots crunching on the frozen gravel. Her cloak was the color of crushed berries, it's hood drawn low over my pinned curls. Beneath it I wore a simple wooden gown."Milady!" Lara's voice rang out as she hurried to me, one hand clutching the hem of her skirts and the other gripping a folded umbrella. "You forgot this! The clouds are thickening again— it may snow before midday."I turned as Lara reached me, slightly out of breath and accepted the umbrella with a grateful smi

The morning of the winter hunt dawned crisp and silver, the snow glittering across the vast Rosendal hunting grounds like shattered glass. Frost clung to the edges of every pine branch, and the sky was a quiet canvas of pale blue.I stood outside the hunting tent, my breath fogging in the frigid air, gloved fingers curled around a small bundle in my palm. I glanced towards the distant grouping of men and horses, scanning the crowd for the one person who hadn't spoken to me in days.Since the kiss in the carriage, he'd kept his distance. No notes. No visits. And any communication about the hunt or household matters had been passed along via the steward with stiff formality.But still, I'd made the handkerchief.White linen, edges neatly stitched, a tiny embroidered hawk in flight at one corner. A keepsake. A custom. I walked past grooms and riders, the crunch of my boots muffled by the snow. Until I spotted him near the horses— dressed in deep charcoal wool and hunter's green, his dar

The snowstorm came in the dead of the night—howling through the trees, and smothering the land beneath a sheet of white fury. By morning, drifts piled high against windows, and the world beyond was a blur of white and wind.I sat near the hearth in Darrell's office, cloaked in a shawl and half–listening as the steward explained the rations, the headmaid explained the servants rotations, and the butler solemnly updates on the damaged Eastern roof.Darrell stood behind his desk, arms folded, expression grave. "Keep fires going in every occupied room. If the kitchen chimney gives out, move the hearth cooking to the west wing. I want no one freezing under my roof.""Yes, my lord," the steward replied bowing.After more instructions and murmurs of agreement, the trio excused themselves. The door closed with a soft click, leaving me and Darrell alone in the thick fire, warmed silence.He turned to me, his brows furrowed. "How long do you reckon this will last?"I glanced at the shuttered wi