The Marquis wanted to say something.
He opened his mouth.
But upon seeing the indifferent face of the Marchioness.
Compared to more than twenty years ago, she hadn't changed much, but there were fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Just a calm glance from her was enough to make him dare not even breathe.
She had always been an extraordinary girl, her reputation preceding her in the capital. While others embroidered or practiced calligraphy indoors, she excelled in riding, archery, and throwing the pot, her skills rivalling those of young noblemen, making her one of the most outstanding amongst them.
Many men admired her, but not a single one dared to confess or to ask for her hand in marriage. He certainly didn't dare to either.
Yet, one day, she gave him an extra glance, spoke a few more words to him, and he was overjoyed. He went home and begged his father and mother; his father was naturally willing, considering her prestigious status.
