Selwyn sat at the little table in his garden that the maids had set, waiting for his betrothed to arrive. Tea sat, waiting, the table stocked with small cakes and sandwiches.

He felt out of place. His hands were too rough for this. His face, scarred and marred by the battles he had fought, would have made him an outcast in any social circle if not for his loyalty to the king. His eye patch, covering his missing eye, made the noble ladies titter and stare.

Here, though, no one would see him but his trusted staff and his betrothed. There were no gossiping nobles, no outsiders to stare at him and the state he’d been left in from his service to the king.

Selwyn was nervous. It was an odd and unfamiliar feeling. His betrothed would be here soon. He could only hope they saw this delicate meeting for the effort it was—that they would not mock or loathe him for his disfigurement. He could only imagine what it might be like to be betrothed to a man like himself. He could only imagine the distaste his betrothed had to feel for him.

Selwyn heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He rose from his seat.

“Hello, dearest. Thank you for joining me today.”