Chapter 41: Whispers in the Moonlight

The heavy doors of the ballroom closed behind them, muffling the music and chatter inside. Verbena's heart was still racing — from the kiss, from the attention, from the sheer madness of her life these days.

The corridor was empty, save for the faint flicker of torches lining the walls, their flames casting shadows that danced across the marble floor.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed, yanking her hand out of Theodore's grip. "Kissing me in front of everyone like that—are you trying to start a war with the Crown Prince?"

Theodore leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. "Maybe. If it keeps men like him away from you, I wouldn't mind."

"You can't just—"

"Why not?" His gaze swept over her, from the faint flush on her cheeks to the rise and fall of her chest. "You're my wife, Verbena. I'm simply doing my duty."

Her stomach flipped. It was maddening how easily he could shift between teasing and serious, leaving her head spinning every time.

"Well, next time, warn me before you decide to publicly devour me," she muttered, smoothing her skirt. "I almost fainted."

"Don't lie," he said, stepping closer. "You kissed me back."

Verbena's breath caught in her throat. "I—I was just playing along! For the act!"

"Of course," Theodore drawled, his fingers tracing a slow line down her arm. "Always for the act."

His touch sent shivers racing across her skin. She stepped back until her back hit the cold stone wall, trapped between it and her infuriatingly charming husband.

"Why did you do it?" she asked softly. "Was it just to annoy Lance?"

A flicker of something passed through Theodore's eyes — something that almost looked like vulnerability, quickly hidden beneath his usual arrogance.

"Partly," he admitted. "But mostly because I wanted to."

The honesty stole her breath.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open again, and a pair of noble ladies peeked out, gasping when they saw the duke and duchess standing so intimately close.

Verbena shoved Theodore back, plastering on an innocent smile. "Ladies! What a lovely banquet, isn't it?"

They giggled behind their fans. "Oh yes, especially the part where you and the duke…well, we all saw it."

Theodore smirked. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

The ladies practically swooned before scurrying back inside to spread fresh gossip.

"Great," Verbena groaned. "Tomorrow, they'll be writing poems about our 'epic love story'."

Theodore shrugged. "Better than writing about our impending divorce."

She froze. The word felt…wrong now. Divorce. That was her whole plan, wasn't it?

But after tonight, after that kiss, after the way he looked at her — did she really want that anymore?

The thought scared her more than anything.

To distract herself, she grabbed his hand and dragged him down the corridor, away from prying eyes. They stepped into a secluded balcony overlooking the royal gardens, the cool night air doing nothing to calm her racing thoughts.

"Let's make one thing clear," she said, spinning to face him. "I'm still mad at you."

"For kissing my own wife?"

"For making me like it!" she blurted, then immediately covered her mouth in horror.

Theodore's laughter was low and sinful. "Oh? You liked it?"

"I said nothing!"

"You said everything."

He stepped closer again, his hands bracing on either side of her against the balcony railing, effectively caging her in. His voice dropped to a husky whisper.

"Do you want me to do it again?"

Her knees went weak. "I—no! We're outside! Someone could see—"

"Good," he murmured, brushing his lips against her ear. "Let them."

Before she could argue, his mouth captured hers once more. This time, it was slower, softer, no audience to perform for — just him and her, the moonlight spilling over them like liquid silver.

And this time, Verbena didn't pull away.

Her fingers curled into the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer, kissing him back with a hunger that surprised even her.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Theodore's forehead rested against hers.

"You're dangerous," she whispered.

"So are you," he replied. "That's why we work."

For a moment, everything felt still. No schemes, no fake illnesses, no amnesia acts — just them.

"Do you still want a divorce?" he asked, voice quieter than before.

She didn't answer right away. "Ask me again after the next dance."

His smile was slow and devastating. "Deal."

And just like that, the second act of their twisted love story began.

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End of chapter