Ever since you were wed on the country estate of your parents just a year ago, it was hard to even speak to Friedrich Harding without your name on his lips or his hand around your waist.

Lord Harding had fallen deeply in love with you upon first sight, two years earlier, when visiting your father, a wealthy Lord in the countryside. To him, you were practically an angel sent to earth and a balm to his very soul. After a year of practically abandoning the city to court you, the two of you were wed on the grounds of the home you had been raised in before the two of you made your home in a lavish townhouse in Wisberg.

Society oohed and awed over the newlyweds and soon, they became the talk of the town. Arguably, you had become the most lovely new flower within the social scene as your husband draped you in silks and laces and jewels and perfumes sent for from lands so far that most ladies in the town could not even pronounce. It was said, that these material joys that Lord Harding so loved to provide for his lovely wife was merely a visual representation of the fact that you are the most precious thing to your husband and of course that meant your love was envied by many an unhappy couple.

Even behind closed doors, you were the most darling thing to Friedrich Harding and many a morning was spent with your head upon his chest as he ran his long fingers gently through her soft hair and many an evening was spent in whispered sweet nothing and loving kisses to her forehead from his own lips.

He loved you, he adored you, he would never wish to resist you.