The morning sunlight streamed through our bedroom windows, casting a warm glow that matched the contented expression on my husband's face. Alaric had been unusually cheerful since we'd awakened, his typical morning grumpiness replaced by an almost smug satisfaction.
"You're in an exceedingly good mood today," I observed, watching him dress with methodical precision. "Should I be concerned?"
Alaric's lips curved into that half-smile I'd come to adore. "Can't a man simply enjoy a beautiful morning with his wife?"
"A man can," I replied, accepting the cup of tea Clara had just brought in. "But when that man is you, such moods usually mean someone somewhere is about to experience profound misfortune."
Before he could respond, Clara cleared her throat. "Your Grace, I've brought the morning newspaper as requested." She placed it beside me on the breakfast tray, her eyes darting meaningfully toward the front page.
