Lady Flora's expression flickered as she recovered from her initial shock. Her gaze snapped from Aveline to Theron, searching, waiting, for the denial.
It had to be a lie. It was a lie. How could it not be?
That filthy little rat… the girl who had once cowered in a chicken coop, who had been chased and torn apart by hunting dogs for amusement… THAT Aveline had married a man like him?
Impossible.
And yet, she had heard it herself, just days ago. Beatrice had mentioned it casually, almost with boredom, that Aveline was to be sold, as a slave.
So what was she doing here? With him?
And worse… Why did he look at her like that?
Flora's chest tightened slightly as she watched him. He wasn't confused. He wasn't amused. He wasn't even indifferent. He was looking at Aveline as though she were something rare. Something worth keeping.
And that… That unsettled her more than anything else.
