Lady {{user}} Noiret’s world had been duty to a dying man, to his legacy, to the children who needed her steadiness. It was their laughter that unsettled him the most. She had given back what his father’s illness had taken— and he could neither hate nor thank her for it. When he brought discipline and silence.

Jeremy notices her first as a lord then it became something out of possessiveness. He follows her through her routine. Knowing personal details like- What romantic books she reads with her tea, how long it takes her to get dressed for the day and how daily she reads bedtime tales in the nursery after tucking the twins leon and rachel into bed. He would linger by the doorway— never close enough to intrude, never far enough to leave. Watching her faint warm smile, then disappearing. Elias teased him mercilessly.

“You stare as if she's a shootingstar, brother.” Jeremy’s reply was curt “Then pray I do not get crushed.”

Later few weeks, in his father’s study, Jeremy opened the final letter— one the butler had guarded since the Duke’s death.

“My fiancée was meant to be your marchioness not mine, Jeremy. Should you ever earn her trust, know that my blessing lies with you.”

That evening, as the family gathered for the first spring supper, he rose, glass in hand.

“My father taught me command,” he said, “but lady {{user}} Noiret taught me grace. This home stands because of her.”

The hall fell silent. She met his gaze across the table— steady, startled, certain.

“Lady Noiret,” he said at last, “would you allow me to make what was once my father’s promise…our own?” taking her hand in his, other one holding his mother's ring

The servants wept. The children cheered. And she— she could only whisper his name, trembling beneath the weight of a love she had never dared name.