Damian looked at her with surprise and skepticism. "Eilika, if this marriage ever begins to feel suffocating to you, tell me. I will ensure you have an exit, a way to live your life well and perhaps find a man who will truly love you," he suggested.

Eilika felt a sharp pang in her chest. "Are you suggesting a divorce?"

"I think you deserve a better man," Damian stated, his gaze drifting toward the cottage. "Someone who values you and loves you fully. I placed a heavy burden on your shoulders. Roman needs a mother, but you are not obligated to sacrifice your own happiness for him."

"What if I want you?" Eilika whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. "I don’t believe there is any man out there who would be as considerate as you have been."

"But you know where my heart lingers," Damian countered. "You said it yourself, the past still holds me."

"What happened with your first wife was a tragedy," Eilika replied, stepping closer, her voice gaining strength. "However, I believe that if we have been brought together by this thread of marriage, we should both make an effort. We owe it to ourselves, and to Roman, to try."

Damian let out a dry, unexpected chuckle. "Now, you are acting selfish, Eilika. That is not the woman I have come to know."

"Perhaps being selfish for the sake of a family isn’t a sin," she retorted softly.

Damian studied her for a long moment, the wind rustling the leaves above them. "I cannot give you what you are desiring, Eilika. I cannot bring myself to love you. Let us end our conversation here."

He didn’t wait for her response, his expression returning to that impenetrable mask of stone. "You and Roman shall lunch together. I will not be joining you."

With that, he brushed past her. Eilika stood frozen in the shadow of the oak tree, her hand still clutching the damp handkerchief she had used to wipe his brow. She bit her bottom lip, feeling a sharp sting of rejection that was far more painful than she had anticipated.

"Perhaps I made a foolish mistake to even suggest such a thing to him," she murmured to the empty garden. "To think he could move on and consider forming an actual relationship with him."

~~~~~

Damian took the bundle of rough, commoner’s clothing from Maurice. Beside the clothes lay two small, fake identification cards that would place them as a small merchant couple looking for domestic labor.

"The slave market begins its operation at three o’clock sharp, Your Grace," Maurice stated as he adjusted the map on the small side table. "I will be stationed at the third exit we discussed. If the situation turns dire, or if your cover is blown, simply give the signal, the flare or the whistle, and my men and I will move in to extract you."

Damian nodded. "Understood. Keep the horses ready. If we find the children mentioned in the report, we won’t have the luxury of a slow departure."

"Everything is prepared, Your Grace," Maurice replied, bowing his head before slipping out of the room.

Damian turned toward the bed where he had laid out a set of modest, drab garments for Eilika.

"Roman has fallen asleep after his meal. We won’t have to worry about him for a few hours," Eilika informed him as she stepped into the room.

"Good," Damian replied before he handed her a bundle of coarse, drab fabric. "These are the clothes Maurice arranged. Change into them quickly."

Eilika took the dress. "We must return before dusk," she added. "Roman is young and this place is still strange to him. If he wakes and finds us gone, he will become restless."

"We will return as soon as the task is done," Damian assured her.

While Eilika retreated to the adjacent dressing room, Damian locked the heavy bedroom door. He stripped away his tailored blazer, donning a weathered tunic and trousers. He was lacing up a pair of scuffed, worn-out boots when Eilika re-emerged, looking uncharacteristically small in the plain merchant’s garb.

"Umm... Can you help me?" she asked softly.

Damian lifted his gaze, noting the way she fidgeted with her hem. He arched an expectant eyebrow until she turned her back to him, revealing the gap in her bodice. "It has hooks along the spine," she murmured, gathering her hair and draping it over one shoulder to clear the way.

Damian stood, his shadow falling over her. He began to fasten the metal closures with careful movements. As he worked his way up, Eilika remained perfectly still, acutely aware of his proximity. The only sound was his steady, warm breath fanning across the sensitive skin of her nape.

When the final hook was secured, he didn’t pull away immediately. "There," he said.

Eilika let her hair cascade down her back, the dark locks masking the hooks he had just fastened. She turned to face him, offering a polite, distant nod. "Thank you, Duke."

"You only choose to give me such respect in certain situations," Damian remarked with amusement dancing in his eyes. "I find I don’t mind if you call me by my name."

Eilika blinked, her expression shifting to one of genuine surprise. "You won’t get angry?"

"No," he replied.

A small smile touched her lips, and she stepped forward, noticing that the collar of his rough tunic was folded awkwardly under his overcoat. She reached out, her fingers deftly straightening the fabric and smoothing the lapel. "Shall we go then, Damian?"

"Yes." He reached for the map on the table, folding it before tucking it into the inner pocket of his thick overcoat.

Together, they walked out of the room and stopped at the courtyard where a carriage awaited them. Damian got in first and extended his hand for Eilika. She grabbed it and climbed the carriage.

As they sat comfortably inside the carriage, it began moving.

Eilika tied her hair into a bun when she found Damian was staring at her.