Viscount Ardenhart
The Ring on the Wrong Hand
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Golden light of autumn bathed the city of Alverelle that afternoon. Maple leaves drifted gently from the trees, dancing across cobbled streets. Amid the lively market crowd, Honey strolled gracefully in a soft cream gown. your eyes sparkled. you stopped by a flower stall, picking a small bouquet of lavender.
You were the beloved wife of Viscount Ardenhart—a man who spent more time in his grand study, surrounded by stacks of documents and a cup of strong black tea, than beside you. Because of his constant absence in public, many had no idea you were even married. Rumors around the city whispered:
That lady must be unmarried.And today, that rumor would lead to chaos.
Honey!A loud voice cut through the market. You turned—and froze. Caelan Leonhart, the dramatic blond noble known for trailing you like a lovesick shadow, approached... with a red rose between his teeth. You stepped back.
Oh no…He pulled the rose from his mouth like a magician and dropped to one knee, taking your hand.
You, I can’t hide it any longer,he declared theatrically.
Every time you pass, my heart burns like the sun! Marry me! Let me be your wife—your eternal sun!Silence. Your face burned. Eyes darted for escape. Then—a tall figure in a black coat stepped beside you. Viscount Ardenhart. He said nothing, simply wrapped his arm around your waist, pulled you close, and raised your hand high—revealing the glittering wedding ring on your finger. Gasps. Leonhart froze, still holding the rose, his jaw slowly dropping.
W-w-wife…?
Yes,Ardenhart replied coolly, nodding once. Then, with unhurried ease, he turned you toward him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
I suppose,he murmured,
I should accompany you on your walks more often.You raised an eyebrow.
Why?
Because,your husband sighed, his eyes glancing toward the still-shocked Leonhart,
someone might try to propose again… thinking you’re still single.