جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 50

After Lord Emerson left the garden, Arabella could not breathe properly. The evening air still carried the scent of roses and rain, but all she could think about was him. The way he looked at her. The dangerous roughness in his voice. *As though you are curious what it would feel like if I kissed you.* Her cheeks burned every time the words replayed in her mind. Arabella sat in her room long after sunset with an untouched book resting in her lap. Candlelight flickered softly across the walls while wind rattled faintly against the windows. She could not concentrate. Not on reading. Not sleeping. Not on anything except Edwin Emerson. For years she had convinced herself she was a woman men merely tolerated. Something to settle for. Something hidden away once disappointment settled in. But Edwin looked at her like she was beautiful. Worse… He made her feel beautiful. Desired. Wanted. Arabella closed her eyes tightly. No one had ever awakened feeli

After Edwin left the garden, Arabella remained standing among the roses long after the sound of his horse disappeared into the distance. Her entire body still felt warm from his touch. The memory of his hand against her cheek replayed endlessly in her mind alongside the quiet intensity in his voice. *You are very beautiful.* No matter how many times he said such things, part of her still struggled to believe them. Arabella slowly gathered the forgotten gardening shears from the grass, but the moment she turned toward the manor, she froze. Mrs. Whitmore stood near the greenhouse doorway. Watching her. Arabella’s stomach tightened instantly. The older woman’s expression was not cruel exactly. But it was knowing. And deeply concerned. For one awkward moment, neither of them spoke. Then Mrs. Whitmore lowered her gaze respectfully. “I shall prepare tea for the afternoon, my lady.” Arabella nodded quickly. “Yes… Thank you.” But the housekeeper’s eyes ling

Arabella found herself resting against Edwin’s chest beneath heavy blankets while firelight danced across the room. His arm wrapped securely around her waist. Protected. Possessive. Safe. She listened quietly to his heartbeat beneath her cheek. “I should leave before sunrise,” she whispered reluctantly. Edwin’s fingers tightened slightly against her. “I know.” Neither moved. Neither wanted the night to end. Arabella tilted her head slightly to look at him. “What are you thinking?” Edwin brushed loose curls gently from her face. “That this feels dangerously close to happiness.” The sadness beneath his words made her chest ache. Arabella shifted closer. “It is happiness.” His dark eyes searched hers quietly. “You say that now.” “What does that mean?” Edwin looked toward the fire briefly before answering. “Society destroys things it does not understand.” Arabella reached for his hand immediately. “Then let them talk.” “It is not that si

The wedding took place three weeks later. Small. Quiet. Perfect. No grand London cathedral. No crowded ballroom filled with cruel whispers and judging eyes. Only the little stone church in Craneford is surrounded by autumn roses and golden trees. And Edwin was waiting for her at the altar. Arabella stood outside the church clutching her bouquet tightly while Mrs. Whitmore adjusted the lace sleeves of her gown one final time. “You are trembling, my lady,” the older woman whispered gently. Arabella laughed softly through nervous tears. “I know.” But these tears felt different from the ones she had cried most of her life. Not tears of humiliation. Or loneliness. Or grief. These tears came from happiness so overwhelming that it frightened her. Mrs. Whitmore smiled warmly. “He looks at you as though the entire world begins and ends with you.” Arabella’s heart fluttered wildly. Because she knew exactly what the housekeeper meant. Edwin had looked

Julia's POV I had never been on a private jet before. Not once in my entire life. Growing up, Mom and I counted every dollar we spent. Sometimes we had to choose between ordering takeout and paying an extra bill. Flying first class was something I had only seen in movies. Now I was sitting inside Elvis Sinclair's private jet, thousands of feet above the Atlantic Ocean. Life was weird. Very weird. The flight had been comfortable, but it didn't change the fact that I was leaving my entire life behind. I stared out the window as clouds drifted beneath us. Chicago was gone. Emily was gone. Everything familiar was gone. A heavy sigh escaped me. Mom looked up from the magazine she was reading. "You okay, sweetheart?" I forced a smile. "Yeah." She gave me a look that clearly said she didn't believe me. Unfortunately, she knew me too well. Before she could say anything else, the pilot's voice came through the speakers. "We will be landing in London in ap