Chapter 60 - The Queen’s Invitation

The envelope lay between them like a sleeping serpent, its presence heavy with unspoken danger. Verbena stared at it, heart pounding louder than the ticking of the grand clock in the corner.

"Open it," she said, her voice soft but firm.

Theodore broke the seal with a flick of his wrist, his expression carefully neutral. His eyes scanned the letter, and for a brief moment, his brow twitched—so subtle anyone else would have missed it.

"What does it say?" Verbena asked, hands clutching her skirt beneath the table.

"The queen has invited us to a private luncheon at the palace," Theodore said, voice low. "Tomorrow."

"Just us?"

"No. A few other high-ranking nobles will be present, but the message makes it clear—we are the main attraction."

Verbena swallowed hard. "Does she know about…everything?"

"She's the queen." Theodore's lips curled into a humorless smile. "She knows more than she lets on. And she rarely hosts private events without a reason."

"Maybe it's just…a welcome-back luncheon," Verbena said hopefully. "After all, I've been out of the social scene for months."

Theodore leaned back in his chair, gaze locked on her. "You don't believe that any more than I do."

She sighed. "No. But I'd rather not think about the worst-case scenario before breakfast."

He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. "Whatever happens, we face it together."

Her heart fluttered—annoyingly soft for a woman who'd sworn not to fall for him. Yet here she was, holding his hand like they were some star-crossed lovers fighting against fate.

"Alright," she said, forcing a smile. "If we're going to be paraded in front of the queen, we need to make sure we look every bit the happy couple."

Theodore's brow arched. "Planning to seduce me into public affection again?"

"Again?" She scoffed. "I never seduced you the first time. That was all you."

He smirked. "Liar."

Their playful banter might have continued if not for the sudden arrival of Mrs. Clover, who knocked once before bustling in with her usual no-nonsense energy.

"Your Graces, I've taken the liberty of preparing outfits suitable for a royal luncheon," she announced. "You'll both need to match, of course."

"Match?" Verbena repeated.

"Coordinated colors," Mrs. Clover explained. "To emphasize your unity as a couple. It's what all the noble couples do when they wish to make a statement."

Theodore looked at Verbena with mock seriousness. "Well, Duchess, shall we wear matching disaster colors to terrify the court? Blood red and pitch black, perhaps?"

Verbena burst out laughing. "Tempting. But if we're aiming for 'perfect couple,' I vote for something softer."

"Lilac and silver, perhaps," Mrs. Clover suggested, already scribbling down notes. "Romantic, elegant, and subtle enough not to seem desperate."

Verbena nodded. "That sounds lovely."

Theodore gave a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose I'm doomed to become a fashion doll."

"Welcome to marriage," Verbena teased.

---

Later that afternoon, Verbena stood in her dressing room, examining the gown Mrs. Clover had chosen—a stunning lilac creation with silver embroidery at the sleeves and hem. It was softer than anything she usually wore, more delicate, more…romantic.

The woman in the mirror looked like someone in love.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to calm the rush of warmth. "It's just an outfit," she muttered. "Not a confession."

Yet the truth lingered at the edges of her mind—each day with Theodore chipped away at her walls. His dry humor, his quiet care, even the way he made her tea exactly how she liked it—all of it made her heart betray her a little more.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Theodore stepped inside, already dressed in a perfectly tailored silver coat with lilac embroidery at the cuffs. They matched almost too well.

He looked her up and down, eyes darkening slightly. "You look beautiful."

"Flatterer," she said, though her voice wavered.

"Honest man." He closed the distance between them, fingers tracing the delicate embroidery at her wrist. "Nervous?"

"A little."

His hand slid into hers. "Whatever they throw at us tomorrow, remember—you're not facing it alone."

For once, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, letting his warmth anchor her. "Thank you, Theo."

The way his eyes softened at the nickname made her stomach flip.

Tomorrow might be a battlefield—but for tonight, they were just husband and wife, holding on to something fragile and precious.

---

End of Chapter 60