Giselle wonders if the words said by the presumably married man are misspoken as she watches Silas who smiles at Eira, who returns his grin–although with fewer teeth.

“Aren’t you precious, little one?” he murmurs, his voice a low-warm sound that resonated through the small room. “Yes, you are. A beautiful princess.”

Giselle almost didn’t want to break such a heartwarming moment. He’d left the two after a week after Giselle got somewhat used to motherhood on a quiet morning. Now, here he was, holding her daughter with such warmth and affection.

“Marriage…for your son?” Surely he means that. Now that she thinks about it, the Duke Aethelstan in her book didn’t have a wife or children and was the last of his blood but Silas…was different. She had a wife, children, and probably even grandchildren.

And she was a random girl he met on a snowy night.

“No, to me.” Giselle clutched her nightgown.

“What…what about your wife?” A flicker of sadness washes over Silas’s face but a gentle smile as he rests the infant over his shoulder, her stubby dangling legs setting on his chest.

“She passed away giving birth to our daughter–I didn’t want to go through marriage and focus on raising my four children. Lydia would’ve preferred that, anyway.” His tone was tired yet chide. “My children have families of their own. The place I raised them and grew myself feels so…empty.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’ve lived thirty years without Lydia in his life, my grief came and went. I had my children after she died but you,” Silas replies, pausing before continuing, “are alone. With a child to raise. How will you manage with no memories?”

Giselle purses her lips. “I’ll find a way,” She figured out a while ago that she’s quite..stubborn. When she first arrived in this life, she had been alone. She was scarred but she had some sort of will to live, at least long enough for the child to be born. “I have to.”

Silas shook his head.

“When we first met that night, I saw bruises on your skin, Giselle. The scars. You may or may not remember yourself or your past but this is a chance for you to become someone new.”

Giselle’s defiance crumbles, his puffy, round frowns. “I…I could be a bad person,” she whispers, as if to convince herself of that, her voice thick with emotion. “I woke up in this cottage, alone with my baby inside of me. The first thing I felt was her kicking and fussing in my belly. I don't remember anything else.” 

Silas doesn't say anything at first but he gets up and hands Eira back to her, who squeals at her face as her mother clutches her close. He gets down on a knee and takes her hand. His voice is soft, gentle even.

“That doesn't matter,” his hand seems to overlap hers. “What matters is the present, and the future.” He gestures around the small drafty room. Cracks in the foundation, a broken window or two. The living is overgrown by vines and flowers. A constant draft they may have left her ill a few times.

“This cottage is cold, isn’t it?”

She pouts.

“It’s just homely, Sir Silas.”

“The ‘Sir’ is unnecessary. It’s homely, it’s unsafe, Giselle. My home is big, has warm beds, plenty of food, and people who will take care of you and Eira.”

Giselle glances at her daughter and her mind races.

“And marriage is for?”

“It will give you a noble title and some security. It will be a marriage only in name if that is your wish. And if you find a person you love, that will cherish you, I’ll divorce you.

‘Is that my wish?’ A marriage to the Grand Duke? It seemed like a dream she’d wake up, too good to be true. But then again, her her newfound life was already unexpected.

After a moment of silence, Giselle nodded slowly. “I accept.”

Silas’s rugged face broke into a relieved smile, his eyes crinkling.  In a gesture that surprised her, she kissed her outstretched palm. “Welcome to the Aethelstan family, Giselle and Eira.”