His Father's Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

I left before dawn. The manor still slept beneath darkness when I stepped quietly into the corridor outside my room with my traveling cloak wrapped tightly around me. Only a few lamps burned dimly along the walls, their weak golden light barely touching the endless shadows stretching across the carpets. Everything felt unbearably still. As though the house itself held its breath.Two servants waited silently beside my luggage near the staircase below. John had arranged for a carriage to collect me before sunrise specifically to avoid attention, gossip, and most importantly— William. The thought of him sent a sharp ache through my chest instantly. I had avoided him all of yesterday. Ever since I sent that letter to John I could not face him. I had said my final goodbye to Katherine and David goodbye this morning. They were asleep but I visited them and kissed each of them on their forehead. I descended the staircase slowly while the servants lifted my luggage carefully toward

Belle's POV.A week had passed in France, though time no longer felt steady to me. Some moments drifted quietly by beneath sunlight and music, while others stretched endlessly beneath the weight of memory. France was beautiful. I could admit that now. Each morning warm sunlight poured through the tall bedroom windows instead of England’s endless rain. Lavender scented the air drifting through the estate gardens, and birds sang constantly somewhere beyond the open balconies. Even the servants smiled more easily here. Meals lasted longer. Conversation came without stiffness or restraint. John had been nothing except kind to me. Too kind, perhaps. He never questioned me when sadness settled over me. Never forced me to speak whenever he caught me staring too long into the distance. He simply stayed beside me with a patience I had not realized I desperately needed. Throughout the week he took me through nearby villages overflowing with flowers and music. We spent afternoons wanderin

I spent most of the afternoon staring out the window.The conversation with John's mother continued replaying endlessly inside my mind no matter how many times I tried to focus on something else.You are not a burden here.John had said the words so easily.So sincerely.Yet I could not silence the growing certainty that eventually I would become exactly that.The estate gardens stretched below my bedroom window, bathed in late afternoon sunlight. Servants moved through the pathways tending flowers while fountains glittered softly between rows of lavender.It should have been peaceful.Instead my thoughts remained trapped somewhere between England and France.Between William and John.Between the life I had left behind and the uncertain future waiting ahead. I pressed my hand lightly against my stomach.The baby had become impossible to ignore now.Every decision I made no longer affected only me.Soon enough my condition would become obvious.People would ask questions.And eventuall

It was my birthday. I did not tell anyone. Not John. Not the servants. Not even the quiet corners of the house that had begun to feel familiar in the way old grief sometimes does—softened at the edges, but never gone. I woke before sunrise. For a moment, I simply lay still beneath the thin linen sheets and listened to the world outside my windows. France sounded different from England.Gentler, perhaps. The vineyard breeze moved through the open shutters like a breath rather than a command. Birds called to one another somewhere in the distance. The house below me was already waking—soft footsteps, distant clatter of pots, the smell of bread drifting faintly through the floorboards. And for the first time in what felt like years, I did not wake with dread. I woke… with something close to peace. It unsettled me more than I expected. Because peace had become unfamiliar. I pressed a hand lightly over my stomach without thinking. The movement had become instinct now, something I d

The house in the countryside had a way of making time feel soft. That is exactly why I had chosen it over the city when William asked me where I would like to live after we wed. I stood by the window longer than I needed to, watching sunlight spill over the fields outside. Everything looked impossibly green. Alive in a way that made my chest tighten sometimes, not with fear anymore—but with something I was still learning how to hold.Peace, I think.Still unfamiliar on my tongue.Behind me, I heard it before I saw it. A small laugh. Then another. William’s voice followed immediately after, strained in the way it always became when he was pretending to be serious.“Henry Rathcliffe, you are absolutely not supposed to be awake yet.” A delighted squeal answered him.I smiled before I even turned around.When I did, I leaned quietly against the doorway and watched them.William was sitting on the nursery floor, sleeves rolled up, hair messier than he would ever admit to liking. Henry sat