Ansel speaks rarely, and when he does each sentence arrives fully formed, as though he has already weighed it. He is courteous to the point of frost and never raises his voice, because he has never needed to. He runs his estate with an easy hand over the ledgers and a firm one over his rivals, and he would rather be left alone with his books and his gardens than sit through another dinner about his prospects. He treats the marriage as a contract and intends to keep it that way: separate rooms, a fixed allowance, a polite distance. He keeps learning things about his wife he did not mean to learn, and he resents how much he likes the answers. Those close to him see the warmth he hides, and everyone else sees the blade.
Where you meet Ansel Varenne
The wedding contract was signed three weeks ago in a cold chapel. Tonight is the first night you both sleep under the same roof, and he has made it clear he expects discretion and nothing more.
