“It is just a singular wedding cake we need. Do we need to sample these many of them?”
“We need to be sure of our decision. It would be best if we pick a cake that everyone will enjoy,” Agnes said thoughtfully, picking up a fork and a plate and handing them over to him.
The Duke collected them and eyed the collection of cakes before him, trying to pick the one least likely to kill him with its sweetness. There was one with simple, nondescript frosting that appeared to be some sort of cream. It was by far the plainest in terms of decoration, and it felt like the safest option, so he reached out and cut a bit out of it and put it onto his plate.
With a deep breath, he put a forkful into his mouth. And promptly regretted all his life decisions.
All he could say was that it was sweet. Far too sweet. The cream must have been beaten with an absurd amount of sugar because it tasted so sweet he felt a twinge of pain in his head. With a shudder, he forced himself to chew and swallow, breathing heavily once he had gotten the bite down. Once he had managed to dispose of it, he reached for a glass of water, and once he had downed half of it, he faced the snickering ladies and stated plainly.
“That was horrendous.”
“You have only just begun, dear. Try the one with purple grapes to your left. The baker said it was layered with buttercream –that should be easier for you to digest.” The Dowager Duchess suggested.
He squinted at her in suspicion, not believing the innocent front she put up before him but relenting because he knew he had no other choice. She had not been wrong; the cake was a lot less sweet in comparison to the other, but it had raisins, and he never liked raisins.
With a sigh, he faced his betrothed and asked,
“Any requests from you? Which would you like me to try next?”
She shrugged with a coy smile. “Whichever you choose. I need actual constructive opinions rather than you wincing at every bite. Try a little harder, hmm?”
Silas stared at her, a little disheartened but wholly unsurprised that she would choose to side with the other women in tormenting him.
Had women always been this difficult to please? It seemed less like they were testing his loyalty and more as though his endurance was under question. But he knew he was hardly in a position to refuse. Agnes… her happiness was his goal, and he needed to prove that he could be trusted as a custodian and an advocate for that.
For her, he would do anything.
And so, the torture continued. He tried to be as constructive as she had requested, pointing out cakes that were the softest, the ones with better texture due to the bits of fruit baked into them, the ones that felt like more frosting than cake – he nearly wept after a bite of that one – and so on.
He had no idea how long it had been since the exercise began, just that at some point, he felt as though he had reached his limit and could go no further, feebly asking a maid to fetch him a cup of black coffee.
A hand gently combed through his hair, and he shifted his gaze to Agnes, taken by her beautiful smile.
“You did really well, Silas. Color me impressed,” she giggled.
And if he didn’t know, then he was very sure that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he did not marry this woman. He had grown to ache for her, to desperately seek out a life with her by her side until he took his last breath. He wondered if this was how his grandfather felt when he had met his grandmother if he had been this suffocated by his desire and need to have and to hold.
Slowly, Silas took her other hand and hoped to God he sounded as earnest as he felt as he requested,
“Marry me, please.”
They might have been simple words, but he hoped they would convey the feelings of his heart to this wonderful woman. The very same woman who asked for him to prove that he was serious about her, but still didn’t let that keep her from showing him affection last night. Despite what he had done and the fact that her faith in him had been brought to question, she still came to him, worried for his wellbeing and offering him company and warmth.
They had talked a lot about nothing in particular, and even though there were moments that felt as though claws were ripping through his insides, Silas felt free when he awoke in the morning with her still in his arms. He felt his old scars begin to heal, gained hope and even started to hope for the future.
And he wanted to return the favor to her. He wanted her to feel as safe as he did with her, for her to rely on him, to provide her with the stability she deserved.
He saw no sense in lying that he had stopped feeling unworthy of her, but rather than focus on that point, he would prefer to acknowledge that he wanted her, and if she would have him, he would stop at nothing to prove himself to her.
Agnes studied his expression for a moment, and hers melted into something fond and happy.
“I will marry you if – you keep your heart open to love. Do not go off on your own, seeking to bear the weight of every burden that comes your way on your own. You can rely on me, too, Silas. Just as you have taken it upon yourself to fulfill my goals, so willI also help you achieve your desires. If we do this, we will do it together – every step of the way, whether it is riding horses or even… raising a family together.” Her cheeks were stained with a pretty pink flush, and her gaze dropped for a moment before she lifted it to his eyes again and asked, “All right?”
He smiled at her, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.
“All right. Together.”
Agnes also went to see how Scar was faring, relieved to see him wandering about meters away from the stables. Simon was also watching over him, looking just as thankful as Agnes that the horse seemed to have made a full recovery. He also fussed over Agnes’ well-being, not quite convinced that she was fine.