The ancient stones of St. Mary's Church had witnessed countless weddings over the centuries, but none quite like this one. Felicity sat rigidly in the carriage as it rolled through the iron gates of the Blackwood estate, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned white beneath her silk gloves.The wedding ceremony had been a blur of whispered vows and curious stares from the few guests in attendance—mostly business associates of Lord Blackwood who seemed more interested in catching a glimpse of the mysterious groom than celebrating the union. Felicity had barely seen her new husband during the brief ceremony. He had stood in the shadows near the altar, leaning heavily on a walking stick, his face partially obscured by the dim lighting and the high collar of his black coat.All she had managed to glimpse were his hands—long, elegant fingers that seemed oddly steady for someone rumored to be so badly injured—and the sound of his voice as he spoke his vows. Deep, cultured, with none of the roughness she had expected from a man supposedly ravaged by fire."Nearly there, my lady," called the coachman from his perch above.My lady. The title still felt foreign on her tongue. This morning she had been scrubbing floors; now she was Lady Blackwood, mistress of one of Yorkshire's grandest estates. The irony was not lost on her.The carriage rounded a bend, and Blackwood Manor came into view. Felicity's breath caught in her throat. The mansion was magnificent—a sprawling Gothic masterpiece of gray stone and towering spires that seemed to pierce the cloudy sky. Gargoyles perched along the roofline like ancient guardians, and ivy crept up the walls, giving the entire structure an air of romantic mystery.It was beautiful. It was imposing. And it was now her prison.The carriage pulled to a stop before the grand entrance, where a line of servants stood waiting to greet their new mistress. An elderly butler with kind eyes stepped forward to help her down."Welcome to Blackwood Manor, my lady. I am Morrison, the head butler. We are honored to serve you."His genuine warmth was so different from the cold reception she had grown accustomed to at Ashworth Manor that Felicity felt tears prick at her eyes. "Thank you, Morrison. You're very kind.""His lordship is waiting for you in his study," Morrison continued as he led her up the marble steps. "He asked that you join him for tea once you've had a chance to refresh yourself."Felicity's stomach twisted with nerves. She would finally have to face her husband properly—this man she had married without truly seeing, this stranger who was now bound to her for life.A young maid with rosy cheeks appeared at Morrison's side. "This is Annie, my lady. She'll be your personal maid and will help you settle into your chambers.""My chambers?" Felicity asked, surprised.Morrison's expression remained carefully neutral. "His lordship thought you might prefer your own suite, my lady. For your comfort and privacy."Relief flooded through her. She had been dreading the thought of sharing intimate quarters with a man who was essentially a stranger, scarred and bitter from his injuries. This small mercy meant more to her than Morrison could possibly know.Annie led her up a sweeping staircase lined with portraits of previous generations of Blackwoods—stern-faced men and elegant women who seemed to watch her passage with ancient eyes. The corridor they walked down was wide and well-appointed, with Persian rugs and crystal sconces that spoke of wealth accumulated over centuries."Here we are, my lady," Annie said, throwing open a set of double doors.Felicity stepped inside and gasped. The suite was larger than the entire servants' quarters at Ashworth Manor, decorated in soft shades of blue and silver that reminded her of moonlight on water. Tall windows looked out over perfectly manicured gardens, and a fire crackled warmly in an ornate fireplace. Fresh flowers adorned every surface, filling the air with the scent of roses and lavender."It's beautiful," she whispered."His lordship had it redecorated especially for you, my lady," Annie said proudly. "He spent weeks choosing every detail himself."That surprised Felicity. From what she had heard, Lord Blackwood was a bitter recluse who cared little for beauty or comfort. Why would he take such care with her accommodations?"Would you like me to help you change before you meet with his lordship?" Annie asked. "Perhaps something more comfortable than your wedding gown?"Felicity looked down at the elaborate ivory silk dress that felt like a costume she was wearing in someone else's play. "Yes, please. Something simple."Twenty minutes later, dressed in a modest afternoon dress of deep green wool that Annie had assured her was appropriate for meeting her husband, Felicity stood outside the mahogany doors of Lord Blackwood's study. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she raised her hand to knock."Come in," came that same deep voice she remembered from the altar.She turned the handle and stepped inside, then froze in the doorway.The study was dimly lit, with heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the only illumination came from a fire burning in the hearth and a single lamp on the massive desk that dominated the room. Her husband sat behind that desk, still dressed in his dark wedding attire, but now she could see him more clearly.What she saw made her mind go completely blank.The man sitting before her was not scarred. He was not disfigured. He was not crippled or broken or any of the things society had whispered about him.Lord Adrian Blackwood was, without question, the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon.Dark hair swept back from a face that could have been carved by a master sculptor—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and penetrating gray eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul. His shoulders were broad beneath his perfectly tailored coat, and when he rose from his chair to greet her, his movements were fluid and graceful, with no trace of the limp she had expected."Good afternoon, Lady Blackwood," he said, his lips curving into a smile that made her knees go weak. "I trust you're finding your accommodations satisfactory?"Felicity stared at him in shock, unable to form words. This was impossible. This was the man society called a monster? This was the recluse who supposedly hid his face in shame?"I..." she began, then stopped, her mind reeling.His smile widened, and she caught a glimpse of something dangerous in those gray eyes—something that made her realize she had walked into a situation far more complex than a simple marriage of convenience."Please, sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "We have much to discuss, you and I. Starting with why you're looking at me as though you've seen a ghost."
