It was late afternoon and Lady Whitman stepped into the open courtyard, her steps light despite the crutch she still occasionally used. Jason's laughter echoed across the field where he trained with his swordsmanship instructor, and she made her way there slowly, enjoying the golden spill of sunlight over the gravel path.
As she walked on, she couldn't help but overhear a cluster of servants chatting beside the herb barrels, their voices drifted her way—too low to be intentional, but not so quiet as to be completely private.
"I heard she gave Clara herbs and instructions herself! Said it might save her da."
"…Did you see how the steward bowed to her this morning? He never used to even look her in the eye," one maid whispered, wide-eyed with awe.
"The steward, the butler, even the cook—everyone says she's changed. And that she forgave Sarah without humiliation. What kind of lady does that?" another replied with a hushed tone of admiration.
"She's changed. Ever since the accident... the new countess is kinder. Smarter."
"She's… well. She's starting to feel like a real lady of the house."
Lady Whitman paused just before the corner, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She didn't dare move—afraid that any sound would startle away the rare gift of praise unbidden. For a moment, her heartbeat drummed louder than the servants' voices.
Warm. The word pressed deep into her chest like sunlight through winter glass.
She resumed her pace with quiet steps, smiling to herself. Perhaps she had not just survived this world—but had started to belong.
Jason's laughter rang out across the garden as she neared the training yard, pulling her attention forward. She spotted him sparring with padded sticks against a taller footman, his stance clumsy but enthusiastic. He saw her and lit up like a lamp.
"Mother! You came early!"
Lady Whitman grinned. "Of course. Tomorrow's a very important day, isn't it?"
Jason beamed. "My birthday!"
She reached out to ruffle his sweaty hair. "And maybe… something even bigger than that."
"Bigger than cake?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"Much bigger." She winked, already imagining the faces of the noble children when they discovered the new toy waiting at the manor tomorrow.
The Ministry of Merriment was about to have its first true celebration in honor of the manor's young lord.
*****The justice thou sleekest*****
The late morning sun filtered through the grand arched windows of Whitman Manor, casting golden beams onto the gleaming floors of the ballroom. The scent of fresh pastries and sugared fruits wafted through the corridors, drawing laughter and excited footsteps toward the heart of the celebration.
Jason's birthday had arrived with fanfare.
Ribbons in soft blues and silvers fluttered from columns and chandeliers. The manor's garden staff had filled tall glass vases with white roses, baby's breath, and lavender sprigs, their fragrance mingling with the sweet aroma of cake and lemonade. A small orchestra, tucked into a corner of Whitman Manor's grand ballroom, played cheerful waltzes while noble children ran about squealing in their best silks and lace.
The guests arrived expecting cake and children's laughter. Perhaps a little bit of marital scandal. What they didn't expect was the Earl and Countess of Whitman standing side by side on the grand steps of the manor—together, smiling, and dare one say it… looking happy?
A few of the arriving noblewomen exchanged quick glances as they handed their invitations to the footman.
"Is that truly Lady Whitman?" one whispered behind her fan.
"And she's smiling," another murmured. "Good heavens, she looks—radiant."
"No wonder she was called the 'diamond in the first water'."
The infamous couple, along with the birthday boy, were resplendent in their tastefully matched outfits. Earl Whitman in his tailored formal coat of deep navy, subtly embroidered in silver threads, a restrained but unmistakable match to Jason's colors who was wearing a young noble's dress ensemble in deep navy blue—youthful, tailored, and princely, with silver buttons etched with playful motifs. Meanwhile, the Earl's softer grey cravat echoed the Countess's gown of pearl grey and twilight blue silk, elegantly simple but exquisitely cut, with soft embroidery at the hem resembling stars and constellations. Her golden hair is swept up with delicate silver pins, a few strands beautifully framing her angelic features, opting for a thin layer of makeup than what was custom which made her look even more naturally radiant.
They watched as the Earl leaned slightly toward his wife, murmured something only she could hear. Her answering blush said enough.
No one said it aloud, but the shift was felt: the once-estranged couple now looked almost like a couple in love.
At the center of it all, Jason stood, his cheeks red with excitement as he grinned up at the adults circling him. Right behind him was a growing pile of gifts that their guests have brought for him. He turned every so often to show off his new boots or declare the number of muffins he'd eaten.
Lady Whitman watched from the edge of the ballroom, smiling softly as she held a simple but beautifully wrapped package close to her chest.
"Is it time yet?" Jason ran over to her, tugging at her skirt.
She knelt, offering the package with both hands. "Happy birthday, my love. You can open it anytime you want."
His brows rose, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. He tore through the string and unwrapped the paper with impatient glee. Inside was a hand-bound book, the cover stitched in soft navy leather, a golden dragon stamped on the front. It was thanks to Garren that she was able to make this storybook for Jason.
"The Little Knight and the Gentle Dragon," he read aloud.
Flipping it open, his lips parted in amazement as he discovered hand-drawn illustrations, colorful and whimsical, paired with a tale written in looping, careful handwriting. He gasped as he recognized a boy, who has the same name as him, and who also looked just like him fighting off shadowy monsters and befriending a misunderstood dragon who guarded a lonely castle.
"You wrote this?" he asked breathlessly.
Lady Whitman nodded, brushing a loose curl behind his ear. "And drew it, too. Only for you."
Jason threw his arms around her neck. "It's the best story in the whole world!"
Laughing, she hugged the boy back. "You haven't even read the whole story yet."
"Can we read this later before bedtime?"
"As many times as you want," she kissed the boy's chubby cheeks, then blew a raspberry as well earning a delighted series of giggles from the birthday boy.
She was so happy to see him even from afar as he held on to her gift for the rest of the party, showing it to his friends and reading snippets of the story to them.
Jason proudly held up the hand-bound storybook, the gold-trimmed edges catching the afternoon sunlight streaming from the garden terrace. "Mama gave it to me," he beamed, flipping through the pages to show the hand-painted illustrations. "She wrote it herself. Even drew the pictures."
A boy from the Earl of Silvertree's household squinted at the page, unimpressed. "Lady Whitman only pretends to like you," he said with a shrug. "My governess says she's a cold woman who just puts on a show in public."
Another girl chimed in, twisting the ribbon on her braid. "My sister saw her at the Spring Banquet last year. Said she made a maid cry. That's not what kind people do."
Jason blinked, confused and frowning. "That's not true. Mama's not like that—"
"You should be careful," the first boy interrupted, his tone half-worried, half-superior. "Pretending is what grown-ups do best. My mom says he'll just hurt you in the end."
There was a pause as the other kids murmured their confusion at the turn their conversation had taken.
Soft footsteps clicked on the cobbled stone path behind them, followed by the gentle swish of skirts.
"Will I, now?"
The children turned quickly to see Countess Bettina Whitman standing just behind them, her expression calm, composed, and oddly kind—not angry, not offended. Even so, the children took a step back in unison, eyes widening in fear to see the infamous Lady Whitman up close. Except, of course, Jason and the other kids who were present during the last tea party in the Whitman Manor.
Jason jumped to his feet. "Mama! I—I didn't say it, I—"
She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know, sweetheart. I heard."
She looked at the children, her gaze firm but warm. "It's not easy being someone people whisper about, is it?" she said, crouching down to be at their eye level. "Sometimes, others only see a single moment—a mistake, or a rumor—and they carry that around like it tells the whole story."
The boy shifted uncomfortably. "That's just what I heard…"
"And you're allowed to be curious of course," Bettina replied gently. "But let me tell you something important. When someone chooses to be kind, to love someone—like I love Jason—what matters most is not whether people believe it. What matters is that it's true. And truth... truth always shows itself, sooner or later."
She looked at Jason, brushing a leaf from his hair. "And you, young man, don't you ever let someone else's fear decide how you see the people you love."
Jason nodded solemnly.
The children were quiet for a moment, the wind rustling the trees above. Then the girl with the ribbon whispered, "I think the storybook is really pretty…"
Bettina smiled. "Would you like to hear a bit of it? Jason can read it out loud. He's very good at voices."
Jason grinned, puffing up slightly. "I do the dragon voice best."
The tension broke, and soon the group was gathered again, huddled around the book, their earlier awkwardness dissolving into curiosity and giggles as Jason performed.
And Bettina? She sat just behind them, sunlight warm on her shoulders, listening quietly—her heart quietly proud, and healing. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to her, the adults who heard the exchange were now whispering their accounts of the incident to other people's ears.
Nearby, Anthony watched them quietly, his expression unreadable. Only those who would care to look closely would notice how his eyes have softened as he watched the scene.
Later in the ballroom, laughter echoed beneath glittering chandeliers, the children's joy as infectious as the music sweeping through the hall.
The Countess moved with an effortless grace, speaking with guests, thanking patrons, accepting compliments on the toys. Among them was Grand Duke Chambers, ever-charming, whose arm she accepted with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
The Earl stood near the musicians, glass in hand, eyes following her as she glided across the floor. Not even noticing the surreptitious glances that some of the guests threw his way.
And here's what they noted: the Earl wasn't scowling. Not quite. But when the Grand Duke leaned in too close to Lady Whitman and said something that made her laugh, a faint crease formed between his brows. The ladies blushed behind their fans at the Earl's obvious jealousy toward the Grand Duke while the men chuckled at his predicament.
The Earl's thoughts, though, were also a jumble of conflictions: Jealousy, yes, perhaps. Or regret. Or something unnamed that had begun to stir inside him the day she stopped looking at him like a stranger.
Later that afternoon, when the games were winding down and the cake had been reduced to crumbs, a footman approached them and cleared his throat politely.
"My lady, my lord. The guests have gathered by the east veranda as instructed."
Anthony and Lady Whitman exchanged a glance. Showtime.
Minutes later, the noble guests stood gathered around a long, low table arranged near the terrace. Draped in pale linen, they held the prototypes of a brand-new toy—colorful wooden blocks with clever pegs and grooves.
Lady Whitman stepped forward, her voice clear and confident. "Today, in celebration of Jason's birth, we would also like to introduce the newest invention from the Ministry of Merriment. We call these the ArchiBricks!"
The crowd gasped in amusement and wonder as Jason, once again, spearheaded the demonstration by building a colorful castle. One by one, the children came over as well and started constructing on their own. One proudly held up a wobbly horse; another had constructed a windmill.
"These bricks," Lady Whitman continued, "encourage architectural creativity, storytelling, and cooperation. Each piece is lightweight but sturdy and can fit well with the rest of the other piece, so that anyone can build anything that they fancy without fear of their towers or castles toppling over."
"Really, the only limit to this toy is your own imagination." Anthony, who was beside her, added.
And the Grand Duke, who walked over to stand on her other side, piped in. "These toys and more new wonders will be available for purchase at our soon-to-open toy shop in the city."
A round of applause erupted.
Lady Margella clapped slowly, her eyes glued to the Whitman "couple", while several other noblewomen whispered excitedly among themselves.
The guests walked over to the table to start examining this new wonder while children stacked and linked them with delight, building towers, animals, and castles.
The Grand Duke chuckled and leaned over to Jason. "Tell me again, young knight, which of us built the tallest tower yesterday?"
Jason grinned. "Mine was taller by one brick, Uncle Edward. You knocked yours over sneezing."
The Grand Duke gave an exaggerated groan. "Foiled again by my own nose!"
As laughter rippled, Lady Whitman turned slightly, catching the Earl watching her. She tilted her head, a quiet pride in her gaze. He returned the look, his expression clearly mirroring her own—then stepped forward.
"A clever toy," he said. "And a cleverer woman behind it. Congratulations."
Before she could thank him, his thoughts turned back to when the Grand Duke casually ruffled her hair earlier. Anthony's tone cooled a fraction as he gazed at the charming duke.
"You and the Duke are growing quite… comfortable with each other." He murmured with an air of casualness.
Lady Whitman raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching. "We are partners. In business."
"Mm. So I've noticed."
And with that, he walked off, joining a cluster of noblemen near the punch who called for him to join their conversation.
Lady Whitman turned back toward the guests, lips curling in amusement.
Jealousy, was it?
It made the day even better.
*****Shall awaken in time*****
Jason's birthday party was a resounding success. Not only for the young master's happiness, which kept him in high spirits even days after the party, but also for the introduction of The Ministry of Merriment's new toy, which made the people anticipate the announced opening of their first ever toy shop in the Boleus Capital.
A crisp morning wind swept through the cobblestone streets of capital, particularly on Bellmont Street, playfully tugging at colorful pennants strung from iron lampposts to shop balconies. At the heart of the town square, nestled beside a respectable hatter and a bakery known for its cinnamon rolls, stood a quaint building freshly painted in shades of blue and gold.
Above the arched entryway, a carved wooden sign swung gently:
-----000-----
The Ministry of Merriment
Toy Emporium
—Whimsy in Every Piece—
-----000-----
A small crowd had already gathered even before the doors opened. Noble carriages lined the street, their occupants watching with mild curiosity from their windows. Townsfolk mingled with giddy children, some bouncing on their toes in excitement. A few shopkeepers peered out from across the square, eyes narrowed in curiosity—or perhaps envy.
Inside, behind the locked door, Lady Whitman took one last look around the shop.
The shelves gleamed with polished wooden toys. Wobble-Tumble towers stood in perfect balance beside boxes of the newest invention: interlocking colored blocks in neat wooden trays, each set shaped like miniature castles, animals, or carts. On the far wall, brand-new, handcrafted mini-carriages behind wooden horses sat in display boxes marked with little tags that read "Make the Horse Gallop with Just One Spell" and "As Seen at Lord Whitman's Garden Party."
The scent of beeswax and cedar lingered lightly beneath the baked sugar aroma from the neighboring bakery.
Lady Whitman adjusted her gloves and turned toward her team—Mage Henry, looking over inventory notes in his notebook; Grand Duke Chambers, impeccably dressed in deep green and visibly more excited than he'd admit; several shopkeepers who were already at their specific posts; and their newly hired store manager, Alex, who was tasked to handle the day's transactions, with the poise of a seasoned banker.
A hush fell outside.
The Earl stepped inside quietly. "It's time," he said, nodding to Lady Whitman.
She gave him a small smile, then faced the entrance, her heart pounding. "Let them in."
One of their shopkeepers turned the key and swung open the doors.
A rush of chatter, laughter, and eager footsteps poured in. Children squealed as they ran toward the toy displays, parents trailing behind with amused expressions. Gasps echoed as they discovered the vibrant interlocking blocks. One noblewoman stood back in surprise, whispering, "Ingenious. You can build an entire castle with them…"
"I heard the designs came from Lady Whitman herself," murmured another, eyes wide.
"Oh, look! Caravan Train. A caravan of carts that moves on its own," a brother pulled his sister to a long, low table set at the center where a train set was chugging merrily round and round its track that was decorated with miniature houses and vegetation made of colorful ArchiBricks.
"It says here that you'll have to insert a key here and wind it so that it moves on its own," the sister corrected him.
Within moments, the shop buzzed with delighted chaos.
Jason, proudly stationed near the Jenga table with his friend Luke, demonstrated how high he could stack the tower before it toppled. "Watch this! Mother said balance is the secret."
A boy from the neighboring district clapped in wonder. "Can I try?"
Nearby, a well-dressed merchant handed a coin purse to the steward. "I'll take one of each block set—and the spinning tops. My nieces won't forgive me if I return empty-handed."
Even the skeptical hatter from next door wandered in, only to linger curiously by the spinning gear puzzles.
The Grand Duke leaned closer to Lady Whitman as they watched from near the counter. "I'd say this was a success."
Lady Whitman exhaled a soft laugh, overwhelmed. "I was afraid no one would come."
The duke raised a brow. "You underestimate the power of word-of-mouth from noble children. Especially after your son's party."
The Earl approached them then, his expression unreadable but his voice warm.
"Congratulations," he said, eyes meeting Lady Whitman's. "It's… remarkable. You've built something extraordinary."
She flushed, taken aback, but nodded graciously. "Thank you."
Just then, a noblewoman entering the shop paused as she passed them—and smiled directly at Lady Whitman. "I heard about what you did for your maid's father," she said softly. "He was my butler, you know, a very kind and hardworking man. I'm happy to hear that he will soon be able to return to us. That was very kind of you."
Lady Whitman blinked in surprise, heart skipping a beat. She offered a polite curtsy. "I'm simply doing what I can."
As the woman moved on, the Earl glanced at her with something like admiration shining in his eyes.
"You're… even more amazing than I thought you were," he said, quiet enough for her ears alone. His breath fanning her cheeks while his lips almost grazed her ear.
Lady Whitman didn't respond right away. She had to turn to watch Jason laugh as his Jenga tower collapsed again in order to hide her reddened cheeks.
"Well," she finally said, "perhaps we're all a little different than we expected to be."
A short while later, Garren came up with a triumphant grin. "We've already sold out of two full crates of block sets. I may need to return to the workshop by sundown."
The Earl let out a surprised huff of laughter. "You're an empire now."
And with a move so sudden, so unexpected, that took her breath away, Anthony leaned down and brushed a light kiss on her hand before walking away.
She was startled for a moment, looking on and following his retreating back. Lady Whitman shook her head with a laugh, then paused as she looked out the window—past the bunting, past the crowd, toward the broader city beyond.
Not an empire, not yet.
But maybe something she could be remembered by after she leaves.
Whitman Manor was quiet again, a soft hush settling over its stone halls like a woolen blanket draped over weary shoulders. The shop had closed at sundown, the last of the cheerful nobles ushered out with cakes in hand and children hugging their toy bags as if they carried treasure.
Dinner had been lively, with Jason recounting each moment of his birthday in full dramatic detail, bouncing in his seat, his cheeks glowing pink from sugar and excitement. But now the manor was wrapped in the peaceful stillness that only followed a day well spent.
In the countess's private sitting room, a small fire crackled. Jason curled beneath a knitted blanket on the chaise lounge, the storybook Lady Whitman had made for him resting across his lap, half-read. He had begged to come to her room after supper. "Just a few pages before bed," he'd said, already bringing the book like a sacred ritual.
Now, his soft breaths rose and fell, cheek pressed to her side, his little body warm against her. Lady Whitman gently brushed a few curls from his forehead and watched the firelight flicker over his peaceful face.
She didn't notice the door open until a soft knock sounded once, then again.
She turned—and her breath caught.
Not Nanny Jones as was usual.
It was Anthony.
He stood in the doorway, already having removed his coat, the top of his white shirt slightly unbuttoned. His sleeves were rolled to the forearms, revealing strong wrists and the relaxed tension of a man who had hosted half the nobility of the region that day—and survived it.
"Sorry," he said, voice hushed. "I came looking for Jason."
Lady Whitman offered a smile, keeping her voice equally low. "He insisted on one more story. He didn't last long."
Anthony stepped into the room fully now, the soft lamplight brushing gold along his jaw. His gaze flicked to the boy, his face visibly softening. "He's happy," he said quietly, after a moment. "He said he had the best birthday celebration that he won't ever forget. I haven't seen him like this in a long time."
She lowered her eyes. "That's all I wanted. For him to have one day… where he is the center of our world."
Anthony looked at her then—really looked.
"You gave him more than a birthday," he said after a pause. "You gave him joy. Stability. A place where he feels truly loved again."
She swallowed, warmth blooming in her chest. "You gave him that too," she said gently. "Not only by yourself, but also by trusting me."
Their eyes held. A breath passed between them.
Then, without another word, Anthony cleared his throat, stepped forward, and crouched beside the chaise. His arms moved with practiced ease as he gathered Jason up, careful not to wake him. Jason murmured softly in his sleep, but settled immediately against his father's chest.
Lady Whitman rose with him. For a moment, they stood close—far too close—the child between them bridging a space that had once been filled with cold silence. Now it was filled with something warm, hesitant, and new.
Anthony glanced at her, his voice quiet and lower now. "He talks about you often, you know. Tells me how you smell like warm bread, flowers, and books. And that your hugs make bad dreams go away."
She blushed, laughing under her breath. "He's poetic for a little tyrant."
Anthony smiled, though he didn't laugh.
His eyes remained on her, gentle… a little too long.
"You've changed this house," he murmured. "You've changed me."
The air went still.
Lady Whitman's heart stuttered, he was too handsome up close, but she covered it with a soft smile. "One toy at a time."
He exhaled through his nose, lips curving into a warm smile. "Goodnight, Bettina."
She dipped her head. "Goodnight, Anthony."
And then he was gone, walking slowly out the room with their sleeping son cradled in his arms.
She stood there, hand still warm from where Jason had curled against her, heart even warmer from a man who, only a season ago, barely met her eyes.
Tonight, he did more than that.
He saw her.
And she had seen him too.