The brush ran over the fabric of his dinner jacket with a scratch, scratch. Edward lost himself in the ministrations of long practice. Griffin had been in the family employ for the better part of two decades and had served his father before he had served Edward. Griffin's hair was grayer than black nowadays, and he had gone rather thick in the middle, but he still worked hard and had an eye for detail that was not easy to replicate.

Griffin put down the brush with a gentle clack. Edward opened his eyes and looked at the rain-streaked window. The weather had given them only a short reprieve. Once that afternoon, he had looked out his window to see the dim light pushing through the clouds. A glimpse of the sun was a welcome distraction from the tedium of estate management. The wheat was suffering from an overabundance of rain; the roots were rotting in the ground. A dozen sheep on another tenant farm had been killed by some kind of animal. Wolves, the tenant insisted. He swore he had heard howling the night it happened. Of course, that was not possible. It had to be wild dogs. Perhaps I should send out Mr. Wolfe to deal with this problem.

"What cufflinks tonight, my lord?" Griffin asked, bringing Edward back from matters of estate.

Edward was thoughtful for a moment. "I think the pearl." He pointed to the pair in the case that Griffin stood beside.

"Good choice, my lord," Griffin said in his rumbling baritone. There was something reassuring about the older man that Edward attributed to Griffin's longtime employ in his household. While Griffin worked to dress him, Edward let the day's worries slip away.

Griffin pulled out the cufflinks from their velvet-lined case and was preparing to attach them to Edward's dinner jacket when thunder rumbled through the sky and Edward startled. He knocked the older man's hand aside, and the cufflink went flying. It hit the wall and fell behind a bureau.

"My apologies. I don't know why I am so jumpy," Edward said somewhat sheepishly.

"Think nothing of it, my lord. It is normal for a young man to be excited about introducing his bride to his loved ones."

Edward smiled. I suppose I have a right to be excited. I imagine they will all fall in love with her in an instant, just as I did.

Griffin sank down on his knees and was hard-pressed to hide the groan as he did so.

"Griffin, is it your knees again? Let me fetch the cufflink."

Griffin's wide face was awash with shock. "My lord, please do not trouble yourself. It is no great pain, just the natural ailments of time."

Edward squatted down beside his valet, watching for signs of pain, prepared to offer assistance if there need be any. Griffin gave pretty speeches, but in truth he was getting on in years. Service was a difficult occupation even for the most stout of men. Perhaps it's time I consider a pension and retirement for Griffin. It would be a shame to lose him.

"Ah-ha, there you are," Griffin said as he retrieved the cufflink. He pulled his hand out, and though he tried to push away Edward's hand of assistance in getting him back to his feet, he succumb in the end.

Griffin opened his hand to reveal his prize, and sitting beside the missing cufflink was a silver locket. "My lord, I found this alongside the cufflink."

He held it out for Edward, who was hesitant to take the trinket. It was a pretty item, engraved silver of a tree with bare branches that wrapped around the curved edges. The trunk of the tree had been carved into, and there was a heart with tiny initials there: MLA. I thought I lost that.

"Let me see that, Griffin." Edward held out his hand, and Griffin dumped it into his master's awaiting grip. Edward ran his finger along the raised metalwork.

There was a small button on one side that, when pressed, opened the locket. Inside was a miniature portrait, a silhouette of a woman. She had curly hair, a petite nose, and a long elegant neck. Mary.

"Shall I take it, my lord?" Griffin held out his hand to Edward.

Edward closed his hand around it, feeling oddly possessive of the trinket. "That won't be necessary, Griffin." Edward placed the locket into his inner jacket pocket and held out his arm for Griffin to put on the remaining cufflink. "Best get to dinner. I'm sure Lady Thornton is waiting for me."

Having finished dressing, he headed out and down the hall. Catherine emerged at the same time.

"Oh, Catherine, I beg your pardon for having kept you waiting." Edward swept over to her and gathered her hand in his. She wore long ivory evening gloves, and her dark hair had been curled and piled on top of her head.

Catherine took a step back as he drew in to plant a kiss on her lips. He took her resistance as a show of propriety. She was a timid creature, and that was what drew him to her. From the moment he had spotted her at the dinner party where they met, he had wanted to draw her out of herself. He wanted to get to know the Catherine who hid behind those lowered lashes.

"Lord Thornton, I hope you are well."

Her formal address cooled his ardor. His mother used to call his father Lord Thornton, and it always seemed distant and lacking affection. There had been little love in their marriage and he wanted different for his own. "Catherine, darling, we are married now; you must call me Edward."

She blushed. It added delicate color to her pale skin. "Edward," she whispered.

He tugged her close and her chest pressed against his. He inhaled the scent of jasmine on her skin. She kept her gaze lowered, and he saw the blue veins along her eyelids and her dark lashes against her pale skin.

"We should prepare to greet our guests; they will be arriving soon," Catherine said.

She did not push him away, but she did not relax into his arms. She was as stiff as a stranger. They had been married two weeks, but had yet to consummate their union. He did not want to rush her, he was a gentleman and he would not pressure her but he could not deny his impatience. He grabbed her chin, titling her head up to face him and stroked her cheek. She looked at him with fear in her eyes. How can I make you love me?

He let her go and she took a few steps back. It shamed him that his wife was scared of him. He adored her but she kept her own feelings hidden. He was not so naive as to think that she married him for love. He was a wealthy man, titled and with a large estate. Catherine had come from relative obscurity with a father that could hardly be called a gentleman. But when he had seen her he had fallen for her hard and fast and he knew no other would do but her. He had been scorned before, but a girl of little fortune would not deny him.

"You need not fear me," he reached to tuck a hair behind her ear. She recoiled from his touch and he felt a stab to his chest. His hand fell to his side.

"Forgive me, I am still learning the duties of a wife. I know we have not—" her voice trailed off.

He rubbed his hand across his mouth, his throat had become suddenly dry.

She looked anywhere but at him. He had never so desperately wanted a woman before, to unlock all the mysteries of her glances and inner most thoughts.

"There's no need to apologize, Catherine. We have the rest of our lives to sort that out." He croaked, though the burning longing in his veins spoke otherwise. "When you are ready, I will be here for you."

She smiled a flash of brilliance mixed with her relief. It was a promise of a future, that she could open up to him, that they could love one another. He wanted to kiss her, but he refrained. Precious ground had been gained in the battle for her heart and he dared not scare her with unannounced affection "Come to dinner, darling." He offered her his bended arm. They strode down the swirling staircase together and down into the entryway, where they were to greet their guests.

Edward, Catherine and their guests mingled in the parlor. As he listened with half an ear to his neighbor, Dr. Rowan, he watched her move about the room. He heard perhaps one in three words, the graceful way Catherine moved about the room enchanted him. The gentle touch of her hand upon her cheek drew his eye. The delicate way she moved, or glanced in his direction when she felt his eyes on her sent his heart thudding. It reminded him of when they had first met. He excused himself from Dr. Rowan and was intent on going to her when Mr. Hobbs announced a new guest.

"Mr. Ashton and Mrs. Ashton are here, my lord," he said.

Edward looked at him with a puzzled expression. "I thought they were in London."

"I met them in the village this afternoon and invited them," said Edward's sister Lydia as she trounced up to him, beaming. Even married and no longer part of his household, she still presumed to invite guests to his party.

With a sigh, he gave his sister an indulgent smile. He could never say no to her, nor stay cross with her.

"I guess I shall go and greet them then," he said with a look in Catherine's direction.

She was presently in conversation with his Aunt Isobel, a petite woman with a heart shaped face and dark hair. He was glad his aunt had taken it upon herself to entertain his wife, if anyone could put her at ease it would be her.

Out in the hall, Mr. Fox took the coats of the Ashtons. Mr. Ashton was a wiry man with short blond hair that was predominately gray. Mrs. Ashton was a strawberry blonde with an artful streak of gray that ran through her hair. They stood in the entryway, looking at Edward until they flickered past him to the doorway to the parlor. Mrs. Ashton's gaze was almost hostile in its assessment. He looked over his shoulder to see Catherine standing in the doorway leading to the parlor, like a frightened rabbit.

"Lady Thornton, I presume?" said Mrs. Ashton.

Edward looked between his guest and his wife. Catherine hands trembled as she clutched them in front of her. He walked over to her taking her hand in his and squeezed. She gave him a grateful smile which lifted his spirits.

"Where are my manners? Mr. Ashton, Mrs. Ashton, this is my bride, Catherine Thornton."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," Catherine curtsied.

Mrs. Ashton pursed her lips but covered it with a smile when Edward took a second look. "You are a pretty thing. I can see why you stole Edward's heart."

Catherine blanched, and Edward decided the entire affair needed some smoothing over. He had hoped to delay this meeting, that he knew would be awkward. I thought this could be avoided. They cannot blame me for Mary's inconstancy, can they? "I'm glad you both could come; I'd be honored if you would sit beside us at dinner."

"It would be an honor." Mr. Ashton beamed.

Edward gestured once more to the parlor. "Well, shall we, then?"

Dinner was announced and the guests drifted out of the parlor and into the dining room. The footmen were waiting along the wall, in white gloves and tails, backs straight.

Catherine seemed apprehensive as they took their seats. She stared down at her place setting, the multitude of silverware, with a look of complete panic.

Edward leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Start from the outside and work your way in with each course."

She glanced at him with her large brown eyes and mouthed, 'Thank you.' He was glad to be of some assistance to her. Even in such a small way. From the corner of his eye however, he saw the knowing smirk of Mrs. Ashton, judging his bride for her ignorance and his mood soured.

The first course was served, and Edward focused on entertaining the Ashtons. If he was to keep the peace in the village, he would need to keep them happy. The Ashton's were influential in the neighborhood, and if he wanted Catherine to be accepted he would have to mend this burned bridge. Mr. Ashton gave him a drawn out recounting of their time in London. He spoke at length about mutual acquaintances and the string of parties he had attended while in town. Next to Catherine was Mrs. Rowan, Dr. Rowan's wife, she attempted to draw Catherine into conversation. Catherine seemed incapable of answering in more than single syllables. She's nervous.

A moment presented itself when Mr. Ashton took a breath, and he said to Mrs. Rowan, "Catherine is an excellent gardener, her irises won prizes," he gloated for her. The neighbors must love Catherine as much as him. She blushed and when Mrs. Rowan questioned her further she spoke with much more animation, on a topic she was passionate about. It was these snatches of confidence that had made him fall in love with her. And more than once during the dinner, he caught her gaze stray in his direction and when their eyes met she would smile and look away like a shy maid. It was a triumph, however small.

As they were serving the dessert course, Col. Hawthorn, an old friend of his father's spoke up. "Lord Thornton, I have something I must say. Forgive me for being blunt, but what madness drove you to travel during a Thorn Dwellers' Moon?"

The room fell silent but for the clatter of silverware. Dr. Rowan dropped his fork into his wineglass, and the cup tipped over, spilling wine onto the white linen. Mr. Solomon, one of the footman, rushed forward to clean up the mess. The only sound for a few moments was Dr. Rowan's muttered complaints about a stain on his cravat.

Lydia laughed as if it were all a joke. Everyone else remained silent. Lydia's laughter died away as her husband Patrick hushed her. Every eye turned to Edward. They all seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for his response. Only Catherine kept her eyes transfixed upon the colonel, a mixture of terror and curiosity in her expression.

"Forgive me, Colonel. But those are just old superstitions," Edward said as if to brush the matter away. He could not hide his displeasure from his tone, and he noticed a few of his guests shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Damn you, Colonel! I have enough to manage with the Ashton's feeling slighted. Do not bring your mad ravings into the mix. If the dinner party was a failure, it reflected poorly on him.

"That's not what your father thought. He believed, as I do. To take a young woman out on their night is to court disaster."

Someone cleared their throat, perhaps Dr. Rowan. Catherine stared at the colonel as if he held the answers to all of life's mysteries. Edward was pricked by jealousy. He could not get Catherine to look at him for more than a moment, and here the colonel had captured her attention with his mad obsession. Catherine sat poised on the edge of her chair, her eyes boring into the colonel.

"Colonel, you will scare Lady Thornton." Lydia laughed again. "Those are just stories nurses tell children to keep them from misbehaving."

The colonel glared at Lydia, and she shrank back in her chair.

"Enough," Edward said, slamming his hand down on the table. Catherine jumped and flicked her gaze towards Edward before staring back at her plate. "I will have no more talk about fairy tales this evening. We are here to celebrate my marriage to Catherine." He gave the colonel a pointed look. The colonel may have been his father's close friend, but that did not give him the freedom to terrify his guests with his superstitions.

"We are fortunate they arrived safely," Aunt Isobel said in a low voice from the end of the table. Everyone looked in her direction, and a few leaned in to hear her better. "Isn't that why we've gathered? To Celebrate this young couple's love?"

The Colonel frowned but it was enough to silence him.

"Speaking of celebrations, we should have a ball!" Lydia said.

"A splendid idea!" Edward said. At last someone had a good idea. Then everyone could see how beautiful Catherine was and how graceful. Edward leaned in to ask Catherine. "Would you like that, dearest?"

She nodded feebly.

"It's settled, then." Lydia clapped her hands together. "Catherine, I will help you with every detail. I helped Papa plan my ball when I came out. It will be splendid," Lydia said. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure at the thought. Catherine gave her a weak smile in return.

After dinner the ladies went to the salon and the men hung back to smoke and drink. Edward caught Catherine's hand as she stood to leave. "I won't be long, darling."

Her gaze flickered towards Mrs. Ashton whose thin lips were drawn together in displeasure as she sauntered out of the room with Mrs. Rowan. He hated that protocol dictated they be parted, even for a short time. He did not trust Mrs. Ashton not to divulge information he would rather keep buried.

"I will do my best to entertain our guests," she said with a slight tremble to her voice.

"I will help her," said Aunt Isobel coming up behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder.

Catherine gave him a half smile, as his Aunt escorted her out, he caught a fragment of their conversation as they departed, "Don't fear looking your peers in the eye, child. You are Lady Thornton now; be proud of that," Aunt Isobel said in her soft voice.

"My lord," the Colonel said drawing Edward's attention back.

He suppressed the scowl that threatened to mar his features. "Colonel."

"How much longer do you plan to pretend they do no exist. You who live closest to the forest, you have a duty to the village—"

He had hoped, they could let the subject lie, but the colonel was relentless. He had to put him in his place, "I have a duty to provide for my tenants and to my wife. There are no such thing as Thorn Dwellers."

"How can you deny it when they took your mother?"

Edward slammed his fist down on the table. The other men in the room jumped but looked anywhere but at the two squabbling men. "There is no such thing, Colonel. I have no fear of children's stories."

"Perhaps you should, my lord, if not for yourself, then for the safety of your wife."

There was general mutter about the room.

"What are you implying?" he scowled at the older gentleman. Let him make a fool of himself in front of his guest. Edward had spent years trying to separate himself from these horrid superstitions. Everyone in the village knew he did not believe.

"Your mother, and others who were not born in this village, were taken by the thorn dwellers."

Edward laughed derisively. "Catherine has nothing to fear. Because they are not real."

Silence followed this announcement as the men gathered around the table shared looks that spoke otherwise. Edward may have forbade such talk but it did not stop the neighbors and visitors from fearing the unseen creatures who hunted the night.

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