The Duke of Everwyn sat beside Seraphina on the edge of the sofa, his expression stern yet concerned.
"Foot."
"It's okay if you leave this—"
"Foot."
With a resolute tone, Seraphina relented and lifted her feet, stifling a cry as he removed her shoes, revealing her wounded bare feet.
As he inspected the injuries, he asked gently, "...was there no one who bothered you?"
"No," she replied, the absurdity of the question hanging in the air. Who would dare bother a bride on her wedding day? Yet, his skepticism persisted.
"Really? You're not covering for someone, are you?"
"It's true. It's just from not breaking in the new shoes."
"Isn't that usually done by an attendant?"
"..."
Her silence spoke volumes. She had no attendant to rely on, managing even the simplest tasks by herself. Fortunately, the Duke didn't press further and instead focused on treating her wounds. He crushed the medicinal herbs into a thick paste, applying it gently with a cotton ball to the affected areas, causing her to flinch.
"If it hurts, let me know. I've never treated someone's wounds before."
Seraphina nodded, though the pain was something she was used to. She remained silent through the treatment until the bandage, as white as her skin, was securely in place.
As soon as he finished, her foot slipped from his grasp, her toes wriggling in discomfort.
"…Thank you for the treatment."
The Duke's gaze lingered on her feet, then moved up to her bare legs. Her exceptionally white skin, blushing from embarrassment, fascinated him. From the moment he first saw her, he had been unable to look away. She seemed so delicate as if she might vanish if he didn't keep his eyes on her.
Compelled by his thoughts, he moved reflexively, capturing her toes in his hands and gently caressing her legs.
"Duke?"
"How long will my wife call me Duke?"
His eyes, dark as night, held an intensity that made Seraphina's heart race. He smiled as their eyes met.
"Would you like to make a bet?"
"A bet?"
"Yes, a bet."
Seraphina's eyes widened at the sudden proposal.
"What are we betting on?"
"A bet that ends when you call my name first. Easy, right?"
Her lips pressed together in thought. She had never called anyone by their name easily, not even her younger brother. The concept of addressing someone so personally felt foreign to her, even with the man she now called husband.
"What if I don't do it?"
"Then I'll do as I please until you do."
"What do you want to do?"
Her words faltered as his hand slid beneath her skirt, his fingers warming her skin.
"Like this."
"…this is the lounge," she protested, pointing out their surroundings. He chuckled at her concern.
"It's a quiet lounge. None of the guests would think to come here."
By now, the guests were likely gossiping about the newlyweds' sudden disappearance. The Count's interests were far from the Duke's concerns.
"But still…"
Desperately, she searched for an excuse. His fingers inched higher, causing her tension to spike.
"Do other people bother you?" he asked, his hand caressing the inside of her thigh. Her muscles tightened under his touch.
"Even though I don't care?"
How could she not care? Their marriage was newly sealed, the ink on the certificate barely dry. They could have easily rented a room for privacy.
"Are we not a couple now? It's a secret for newlyweds. Sometimes, being out of place adds to the excitement."