Lisbeth's head drooped, and her heart swelled with waves of disappointment that ebbed and flowed like the relentless sea.
"I... I better go, goodnight."
With a heavy heart, she left the room.
In another part of the house, tender sex had just come to an end.
Aurelia lay in Leopold's arms, drowsy and content.
"Are you okay?" He would always ask after their lovemaking, ever so careful not to hurt their unborn child.
"Yes," she murmured, nodding against his solid, warm chest that felt so comforting.
"You’re always my dear love," his voice was so soft and affectionate, it was almost tangible as he kissed her forehead gently.
"You too, my darling," she replied, lifting her face to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. She hoped they would remain in love like this, until their golden years.
The next morning, the couple was rudely awakened by a spat of loud quarreling.
It was Charles and Harriet at it again.
"Did you do it? Did you have the maid push Mary down the stairs?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. It's a festival, for heaven's sake. Are you mad to pick a fight now?"
"I was going to wait until after the festivities to sort this out. Couldn't you have waited?"
"Sort it out? You've been showering her with gifts, what's that about? Setting her up for a cozy confinement?"
"What I do is my business, not yours."
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