"BUT WE'RE ALREADY MARRIED," I pointed out.

"We've suffered a farce of marriage for your years. Now, I'd like to be married in more than just name."

"Is that not what we've been doing for the past couple weeks?" I pointed out.

His eyes shimmered intoxicatingly. "I'd like to make it official." I opened my mouth to respond, but Matthew but a finger to his lips. "I spent a very long time working out my proposal. If you keep asking questions, I won't be able to get it out."

I grinned at him. "Do go on then."

"Rose, he began, you're the most exceptional woman I've ever met. Other people who suffered the same deal of heartache as you have in your lifetime would've let that hurt consume them. But you haven't. Other women never would've found room in their hearts to forgive me after the wounds I've inflicted, directly or otherwise, but you have. You're resilient, kind, and incredibly beautiful." Matthew paused here, and I recognized that he was nervous. "God knows I don't deserve you, but I would be a fool not to pick the incredible flower before me. Will you marry me Rose?"

I gazed at the man who'd stolen my heart with happy tears in my eyes. "Of course." Matthew slipped the ring of my finger and rose to kiss my cheek. "What kind of wedding did you have in mind?"

"Something in the garden, obviously."

I raised a brow at him. "How unorthodox. No chapel?"

"The garden is fitting," he said before sparing me another kiss. "It's where your most happy."

🥀

I was back in my wing of Whitfield mansion, but under happier circumstances. I told my husband it wouldn't do to be sleeping the same bed and enjoying other marital pleasures while we awaited our wedding. Matthew pointed out that we were still maritally bound, and there was no sin. I replied that there was no room for technicalities, and I would act the proper fiancée. Several interested parties descended upon the house once the wedding invitations were sent (Victoria's being recalled of course). The meddlesome mother-in-law I had to thank for our impending nuptials, a pregnant Elisabeth, and a princess. Leticia provided me with her personal designer for my wedding dress and—as usual—wouldn't take no for an answer. "Think of it as my wedding gift," she said.

Mary had many concerns for our wedding ceremony, chief among them being that we married in a church. "I know you might be inspired by the little ceremony you threw for your servant girl, but there's no need to follow suit. You're not a commoner." I gently pushed her concerns aside.

"It's not as if we're getting married for the first time," I reminded her. "We were holy wed before the church. A little bit of character this time around won't hurt anybody."

Mary only gave me sour glances, and increased her attempts to change my mind. Elisabeth was asking a great many questions about food, she was entering the stage of pregnancy with distinct palate tastes, anything was either appealing or disgusting. "I cannot believe you're taking three months to plan this," she told me one day.

"It's the earliest the seamstress can finish the dress I want on such short notice. Besides, I want this done correct."

Elisabeth's eyes twinkled at me. "God knows you deserve it."

Matthew and I met in the library every night to exchange chaste kisses, sip tea, and discuss our favorite novels. One particular night, I ended up in his lap, paying special attention to his neck. My husband muttered sweet curses beneath his breath. "Stop teasing," he growled.

I gently bit a soft corner of his neck. "Teasing?" I asked innocently.

"You're teasing me."

I planted another kiss, which caused him to shiver. "I am not teasing you, Matthew."

"Then, come to my rooms." I opened my mouth to object, but I was interrupted by the sound of rustling in the background.

I peered into the warm blackness of the room. "Is someone there?"

Bert timidly emerged from the shadows. Matthew gave a barely concealed sigh. Bert was re-hired at Whitfield mansion at my bequest, but my husband still had his reservations. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, ma'am," he hurriedly said.

I smiled, indicating that the interruption earned him no ill will. Not from me, anyway. "What is it?" I asked.

"It's your Mr. Hector Axel. He's dying."

I blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Mr. Axel has fallen gravely ill. His servant called to inform you that he is on his deathbed."

My heart pattered slightly faster than usual. "Why am I the person he's informing in the dead of night? I am not his closest or favorite kin."

"He asked for you, ma'am."

I stared at Bert's uncertain face, unusually grim on the sparse candlelight. Matthew's hand squeezed my own comfortingly. An image of my beautiful mother, full of laughter and love, flitted through my mind. Then it flashed to a moment I'd always wanted to forget: her sunken, sweaty body on a large bed in a dark room. My jaw tightened with a cold rage. "Absolutely not."

"I'll tell him that straightaway."

"Tell him..." I paused, allowing the anger to roll off of my tongue. "Tell him that he does not get to do that. He cannot abuse me the entirety of my life and murder my mother only to beckon me to his bedside...for what? To ease his conscience?" Angry tears burned in my eyes. "Tell him no."

"Right away, madam."

🥀

Hector Vernon Axel was buried three days after his death. It was a cold rainy affair that suited the dreary, old man. I refrained from wearing red and opted for a neglected black frock. The will was read back at Axel House. Squeezed into the large yet suffocating study room was my odious kin, who (quite naturally) did not even spare me a greeting. Well, that wasn't completely true. William gladly told me through clamped teeth how the premature death of his brother was entirely upon my head. I told him, with the thinnest of smiles, that I hoped I'd been granted such a pleasure. Aunt Sarah, with her airs of superiority, told us to stop bickering like children. I had just enough time to tell her the only child present was her insipid brother before the funereal began. The reading of the will went just as expected, coin to family members all around (excluding myself) and some to some mysterious women who I could only assume mothered his bastards. I would've refrained from attending the affair altogether if there was no other way to attend to one important matter. After the reading was done I looked onto the solicitor.

"When was this will made?" I asked.

"It was amended last night, just before Mr. Axel passed," he answered.

"So, there was nothing about a Victoria Sill?"

"What on Earth for?" William boomed.

"She's pregnant with his child," I said patiently, refraining from looking at my uncle.

"Lies," William spat.

"You are many things Rose," Sarah began in her soft, lethal tone. "But you were never a liar, so I'll excuse these accusations as delusions." Her voice dropped another note. "But I won't let you disgrace your uncle with this...slander. Believing that your uncle would impregnate your husband's mistress might be a lie you have to believe to accept Whitfield with open arms. But, for everyone's sake, keep quiet about it."

I spared Sarah a slow-blinked glance before turning back to his solicitor. "Nothing for his child? He's taken care of the rest."

The solicitor regarded me with pinched lips and a furrowed brow, silently supporting my aunt's assertion. "Mr. Axel's estate and various funds have all been bequeathed in the will. No intended beneficiary has been left out," he said coldly.

"How very unfortunate."

Andrew was giving me an unusual contemptuous glare. His eyes were rimmed with red. I think he was the only family member who actually cried. "If the baby is of such importance, take care of it yourself."

I stood up from chair and gave the Axel clan one last disdainful look. "I will."

🥀

I did not abandon my wedding plans altogether—but they took second stage to my quest to provide comfortable living for the newest unrecognized addition to my family. I wrote to the Sills, assuring them that an allowance would be provided once the child was born and they assumed custodial rights. Matthew observed my ventures with distaste, but gave no comment. That was until the day Victoria wrote to me. I didn't tell Matthew about the letter, his disapproval would be obvious. So, I ventured to the kingdom's penitentiary alone. Victoria was brought before me in dull garb of faded gray. Her raven locks were greasy, wilted curls and her face was long and drawn. Four months had aged her significantly, the only source of relative joy was her protruding stomach. It was strange, I should feel a burning hate for the woman who nearly ended my life. And yet, all I felt was pity.

"You've been talking with my parents," she said, without preamble.

"I have," I replied.

"They say you want to take care of the baby."

"The infant deserves nothing less."

Victoria smiled bitterly. "Of course. How righteous of you."

"I'm not trying to be righteous, Victoria."

"But you are." Her emerald eyes darkened with disdain. "No matter, though. It works to my advantage." She smoothed her hands over her prison gown. "I would like to make a deal."

I eyed her warily. "What kind of deal?"

"Let me free from this prison. Of course, I promise to leave. This kingdom is too small for both of us. Do that, and the child is yours."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I never asked to have your child, Victoria. Only to provide for it."

"It would end that way though, wouldn't it? I'm sentenced here for the rest of my life so I can never mother the thing." Victoria's expression soured. "Not that I want too. My parents are too old to care for a newborn themselves. They'd rather be grandparents not parents all over, they're just trying to rescue it from an orphanage."

"Even so, the child will not be mine."

"It has your uncle's blood. Your blood," she spat. "I'm assuming the geezer didn't leave a dime for their safekeeping, which is probably what prompted this whole scheme in the first place. You know what it's like to be rejected by your family—you wouldn't be able to help loving it. No, if I give the baby to my parents it's yours. And I'm saying you cannot have it unless you pay for it. Well, pay me for it."

I regarded her through a cold stare. "You have nothing to bargain with," I said finally. "What's the alternative? You give your baby to an orphanage?"

There was faint glimmer in Victorias eyes. It sickened me. "Why not?"

"Besides basic motherly duty?" I asked acidly. "Maybe the fact that the Whitfield name is worth gold, and I can give this baby a proper home with or without your consent."

"Exactly the reason I'm asking that you let me free. I know what the Whitfield name is worth. I also know I reside in a crowded, ill managed prison that likes to turn blind eyes to the actions of women." She smiled. "And I'm smart. Not lately, but generally. If I don't want you to have my baby...you're not going to get it."

I shook my head at her. "What is wrong with you Victoria?"

She leaned closer toward me and I resisted the urge to flinch. "If you think I'm going to let this parasite—whose only purpose was to secure me a better life—live in the lap of luxury while I toil in this hell all in the name of "motherhood" then it is you who suffer from a mysterious mental ailment, not me."'

I didn't give her a reply. I could only stare at her, speechless.

She leaned backward, satisfied with herself. "Well, do we have a deal?"

🥀

"Absolutely not." Matthew's face was on fire. "If it was up to me, she would've been hung. You know that."

I told Matthew about Victoria's proposal that evening. "It's not about her, Matthew."

"I'm not saying we don't save the child. We can pay the guards to make sure she doesn't try to sneak it off."

"She could hurt herself," I told him quietly. "She could hurt herself to hurt the baby."

"The guards can stop that!" Matthew exclaimed. "Victoria is trying to scare you."

"It's working."

Matthew gave a me a thorough, wide-eyed stare. "Are you having second thoughts about the wedding?"

"What?"

"You cannot blame me for being suspicious. We've delayed the ceremony for a month because of your plans for the child. And now you want the woman that nearly killed you to be released?"

"What does that have to do with our vows?" I cried.

"People do irrational things to avoid the root of a problem!"

"You're not a problem!" The words stretched out of my mouth in a screech. "You're the love of my life."

"Then act like it!"

The words visibly stung me. "I am not acting like a woman who loves you?"

"You won't let me make love to you and you won't proceed with our wedding preparation and you won't let me reason with you lately like, for instance, right bloody now. That is not the behavior of a woman in love."

Anger twisted in my gut. "I'm sorry. I didn't how the frequency at which you I allowed you between my legs determined my love for you."

Matthew attempted to hold my hand, but I ripped it away. "That is not what I meant and you know it."

"Do I?" I asked incredulously. "Because right now you are acting like a complete cad."

"Rose," he began but I turned away and started for my chambers.

We remained apart for the whole evening, night, and following morning.

Elisabeth called just before noon. Her stomach was rounded, and she adored cakes. "You don't think you're being a tad unreasonable?" my friend asked, her lips stained slightly with sugar.

I stared at the specks, wondering if I should tell her about it. "I'm trying to keep a child safe."

"She shot you, Rose." She took two or so cakes and gulped them down in an impressive swallow. "You were going to die." Her voice took on a naked fragility. "You do understand that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," I said, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.

"Then you should understand why she has to stay there. And honestly..." She paused mid sentence to take a third cake. "I share his opinion. After the birth of the child, I would have no qualms if she were hung. It's deserved."

"She's depraved." I'd yet to tell Elisabeth about Victoria implied threat of hurting the child. It made me want to vomit and issue my own death threats. She probably deserved the noose. "My intentions have nothing to do with her, though. It's about..."

"An infant, yes yes," Elisabeth interrupted impatiently. "You have no proof that the prison is ill managed or that the guards can't safeguard the child once it is born. Just the words of a demented woman."

"Demented or not, I trust her to sabotage that child's life. After all, it's clear she takes no comfort in her current state. What does she have to lose?" We concluded the visit on a lighter note than that cryptic statement for Elisabeth began to talk about the food at the wedding party. Nevertheless, the words swirled around in my head.

A soft knock sounded on my chambers that night. I didn't answer, but my husband entered anyway. "I didn't invite you in," I said.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said. The words were honey on my ears. "I was an ass."

I snorted at the epithet. "Yes, you were."

"I just..." He paused, weighing his words. "I miss you, Rose. And not just because we're not intimate anymore. You're not here."

"I'm right here," I answered acidly.

"No," he answered quietly. "You are not."

"Where am I then?"

"In a world that only revolves around the issue of the baby." I opened my mouth to speak, but there was something in Matthew's eyes that stopped me. "I'm not saying you're wrong about wanting to rescue the child. Until very recently, I believed the child was my own. But don't let it consume you."

"There is something wrong with me being consumed with concern?" I queried hotly.

"Only when it means you neglect the people in your life that love you." He closed the distance between us. "Do you remember the last time we spoke? I mean really spoke, Rose, not just exchanging niceties or kisses?"

"Don't be dramatic," I said, but my voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

"I'm not."

I took him by his arm, pulling him closer. "Victoria's told me something that I can't stop thinking about."

The room was dark, but the concern in his eyes was clear. "What did she say to you?"

"She said that I wouldn't be able to help loving a rejected child with Axel blood running through its veins. My blood."

"Was that how she threatened you to let her go free?" he asked.

"She's right, Matthew." My eyes welled with tears. "I know what it's like to be rejected by that family. I cannot let the same thing happen to another."

There was a brief silence. "I'll pay the guards triple to look after her, Rose. Nothing will happen."

I withdrew my hands from his arm. "You don't know

that."

🥀

We went on for another few precious days without speaking to each other, staying in our respective wings. And then it happened.

An aid at the prison rushed to inform us that Victoria was experiencing labor pains. We were having breakfast which, for whatever reason, we chose to take together. "She says she needs to know if you're saying yes to a deal," the aid said.

I took an inhale so sharp it hurt before I spoke my next words. "It's no," I whispered softly.

I could feel those marine eyes on me, piecing me apart. "Actually, it's a yes," Matthew said. I swiveled my head to look at him. The aid nodded and took her leave.

"Are you sure?" I whispered.

"If anything happened to our child because I said no, you would never forgive me," he said lowly. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

We went to the to the prison straightaway, I didn't want to chance it. The had rooms for such matters, surprisingly. The Sills were there as well. We watched and helped as a cursing, bitter Victoria brought a child into the world. A beautiful baby girl was born some hours later. She had her mother's raven locks and emerald eyes with a caramel coloring from her father. Victoria handed the child to her mother straightaway, who wept at the sight of her. "What will you name her?" Mary asked.

"She's not mine," Victoria said blandly. She eyed the infant with distaste before looking in my direction. "She can. She's the true mother."

I hadn't yet held her. I shook my head. "Don't be ridiculous. You can name her, Victoria. It is your child, even if you won't be there."

"I didn't want a child, I wanted to be free. And now, no special thanks to her, I am. I don't want to name her. She's yours."

"Surely you might," I offered to David and Mary timidly.

"You won't keep us from our grandchild, that I know. We'd be glad to let you adopt her. As it is, we're in no state to take on full care of an infant, even with all the help in the world," David said. Mary gently placed the baby in my arms.

I lovingly examined the child and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Matthew stared on, an unexplainable emotion in his eyes. "What shall we name her?"

Matthew traced a thumb along the baby's cheek. "Georgia."

🥀