Late Night Endeavor

The next week passed uneventfully.

Nora sat in her private parlor, fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain of her teacup. The warmth seeped into her palms, a comforting contrast to the cold pit forming in her stomach. She should have been at ease after confirming that the book's claims were unfounded, but the image of the boy's face staring out from the carriage window lingered at the back of her mind like an unwelcome shadow.

Perhaps it was merely her imagination. Yes, that had to be it.

She had been so consumed by the absurdity of the book that she had conjured up an illusion, a phantom of her fears. Caspian wouldn't—couldn't—betray her like that. He had married her knowing full well the conditions of their union, and he had once been so attentive. Even if things had grown cold between them, it did not mean he had strayed.

"Your Grace," Ruth's voice interrupted her thoughts. The maid carefully placed another plate of biscuits on the table, her brows furrowed with concern. "You've been stirring your tea for quite some time now."

Nora blinked, glancing down to see the spoon still circling the liquid, long after the honey had dissolved. She set it down, forcing a small smile. "I was merely lost in thought."

"If I may be so bold, Your Grace, is something troubling you?" Ruth hesitated, exchanging a glance with Lillian, who stood by the doorway with an equally worried expression.

Should she tell them? The book was a ridiculous thing, after all. Even if she voiced her concerns, what proof did she have? What could she say—that a mysterious novel foretold her husband's betrayal? It was too foolish to utter aloud.

"No," she finally answered with a sigh. "Nothing at all. Have there been any further updates about the…nanny?"

Ruth pursed her lips. "Only that His Grace has ordered a special wing in the estate be prepared for her comfort. None of the staff have seen her yet."

Nora hummed in acknowledgment. It was odd. She had never known Caspian to be particularly sentimental. Even towards his own blood relatives, he had always been distant, more of a man of duty than of emotion. Yet here he was, bringing back a childhood caretaker and ensuring her comfort with such secrecy. It should have been a heartwarming gesture, yet unease clawed at her insides.

Before she could dwell on it further, the door to the parlor opened, and a familiar deep voice resonated through the room.

"Nora."

She turned to see Caspian standing there, still in his formal clothes from visiting the palace. His dark hair was slightly tousled from the journey, and a hint of exhaustion lingered in his striking features. And yet, as always, he was the very picture of nobility, commanding the room effortlessly.

"Caspian," she greeted softly. "I didn't expect you to visit me so soon after arriving."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. "Of course I would. I wanted to make sure you weren't overexterting yourself." His gaze flickered to Ruth and Lillian. "Has she been taking her medicine properly?"

Ruth nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Grace. The Duchess has been diligent with her medicinal teas."

Nora exhaled, half amused, half exasperated. "You speak as though I am a child needing supervision."

"You are my wife," he corrected, stepping further inside. "It is my duty to ensure your well-being."

A softer emotion swirled in her chest. Perhaps she had been worrying over nothing. He still cared, even if his attentiveness had waned with time. But before she could let the relief fully settle, he continued speaking.

"I'll be occupied for the next few days tending to matters regarding the new guest," he said, voice calm yet firm. "I trust you'll understand if I'm unable to join you for meals."

Nora stiffened. "Your nanny must be in a terrible state if she requires that much of your time."

He hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough for her sharp eyes to catch. "Yes. She is quite ill."

Her fingers tightened around her teacup again. "Then surely I can at least meet her briefly. It would be improper of me, as Lady of the house, to ignore a guest entirely."

"No." His response was immediate, his voice sharper than before. "It's best if you keep your distance."

Silence stretched between them. The air in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension. Caspian rarely raised his voice at her, even in frustration. That he was doing so now, with such finality, sent a ripple of apprehension through her.

He noticed her reaction and sighed, reaching out to brush a lock of silver hair from her cheek. "Nora, please," he murmured. "Just trust me on this."

The warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his voice—it should have reassured her. And yet, the warning bells in her head only grew louder.

She forced herself to nod. "Very well."

Caspian's expression softened, as though relieved by her compliance. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before excusing himself, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.

The moment the door shut behind him, Lillian exhaled shakily. "Your Grace, I do not mean to pry, but… something about this does not sit right with me."

"You're not alone in that thought," Nora admitted. "Something is being kept from us."

"What should we do?" Ruth asked hesitantly.

Nora's grip on her shawl tightened. There was only one thing she could do.

She would find out the truth herself.

**

That night, long after the estate had quieted and the lamps had been dimmed, Nora carefully slipped out of bed. The cool air nipped at her skin, but she paid it no mind as she reached for a lantern and quietly opened her chamber doors.

Ruth and Lillian had been sent to bed hours ago, leaving her alone in her late-night endeavor. It was risky—she was well aware of that—but she could not simply sit idly by any longer.

Moving as silently as her frail body allowed, she navigated the halls, making her way toward the west wing—the place Caspian had ordered to be prepared for his so-called nanny. Each step was measured, cautious, her heartbeat a steady drum against her ribs.

She reached the door at the end of the corridor, the one she had seen the servants frequent throughout the day. The one where no one had yet seen the guest.

Carefully, she pressed her ear against the wood, listening.

Silence.

A flicker of hesitation passed through her. Should she risk it? What if Caspian discovered her wandering so late at night? What if…what if she found something she wasn't ready to face?

But she had to know.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly pushed the door open.

And there, in the dim glow of the lantern's light, sat a woman with golden curls cascading down her back—her hands wrapped protectively around a sleeping child.

A child with Caspian's face.

Nora's breath caught in her throat, her vision swaying slightly as the weight of the book's prophecy came crashing down upon her.

It was true.

Everything was true.