Chapter 27: The Balcony Confession (Sort Of)

Verbena was so tense, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a servant informed her that His Grace requested her presence in his study.

She marched down the hallway like a prisoner being led to the gallows. Her mind raced with excuses — maybe she could claim she was sleepwriting, or possessed by a ghostly poet. Anything but the truth: that her foolish heart had betrayed her hand.

When she stepped onto the balcony attached to Theodore's study, the evening breeze sent shivers down her spine. Theodore stood with his back to her, the crumpled letter between his fingers. The moonlight cast a silver glow over him, making him look like a villain straight out of a romantic tragedy.

"Is this yours?" he asked, holding the letter up without turning around.

Verbena cleared her throat, trying to sound calm. "Uh, that's… I mean, technically, it came from my desk, but—"

He finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. "So you hate me?"

"N-not exactly!" Verbena waved her hands like she could physically push the misunderstanding away. "That was… just a personal emotional purge! A—a creative exercise! You weren't supposed to see it!"

Theodore took a slow step toward her. "You hate my smirk. My voice. My eyes."

"I don't hate them! I just—" She backed up until her shoulders hit the cold stone wall. "Look, you're very…villainous. And I'm your wife by accident. Feelings are bound to get complicated."

He rested one hand on the wall beside her head, leaning in. "Complicated?"

Verbena's heart pounded so loudly she was sure even the palace guards could hear it.

"Like… like how enemies sometimes develop a mutual respect after battling to the death?" she stammered. "Or how cats hiss at each other but secretly want to cuddle?"

Theodore's lips twitched into a smile. "So which are we? Mortal enemies or hissing cats?"

Verbena's brain short-circuited. "Neither! Both! I don't know!"

Before the tension could snap, loud giggles rang out from the garden below.

"Look! The Duke and Duchess! What a romantic scene! The moonlight, the balcony—just like in the novels!"

Verbena peered down to see a cluster of noble ladies peeking up at them, eyes sparkling with giddy curiosity. One of them clutched a fan to her chest like she might faint from the sheer romance of it all.

"Oh for heaven's sake." Verbena groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Why does everything in this mansion turn into a dramatic spectacle?"

Theodore chuckled softly — a sound so genuine it startled her. "If you want to avoid gossip, my dear wife, you should stop writing letters confessing your 'not-really-hateful' feelings."

"It wasn't a confession!" she squeaked.

"Mm." He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Whatever you say."

Verbena bolted for the door like her skirt was on fire, leaving Theodore alone on the balcony with her crumpled, embarrassing letter.

He smoothed the paper out, rereading her words one more time. His smile softened, something almost fond flickering in his eyes.

"Not really hateful," he murmured, before carefully tucking the letter into his coat pocket.

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End of chapter 27