Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 120: The Arrival of Salvatore’s Mother.

Chapter 120: The Arrival of Salvatore’s Mother.

Night.

Theodore Mansion

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

*****************

Theodore stood ramrod straight while Lydia appeared shaken. She wanted to appear modest but the rum wouldn’t allow it.

"How did you get married to this?" The lady visitor asked with a displeased look on her face.

Her whole self was exuding elegance and pride. Lydia gulped.

"She looks awfully unkempt and too pale, her hair is too long and what is with this clothing?" the woman pointed out things and fired question after question.

Lydia, due to the rum bringing down her defenses became transparent with her feelings and reactions. Theodore caught her pouting, she seemed hurt by that comment and he couldn’t have that. He turned her to face him but her head was faced down. His stone physique has changed immediately to his wife.

"You are beautiful, Gooseberry look at me"

She did, her ocean-blue eyes meeting his sky-blue ones.

He nodded as he started. "You are pretty Gooseberry, ethereal, even and I have never fallen for or shall ever fall in love with anyone but you"

"Lydia you are mine and now the Lordess of Critic Arley as you wish" he declared possessively.

"Theodore" she purred her eyes glassy as she reddened.

"I love you too" she whispered gripping his arms.

"What is this nonsense?" a screech reached the loving couple.

"Leave this mansion, this instant" Theodore growled.

Lydia’s heart thundered. "Theodore you cannot say that, if she is your mother, we need to welcome her" she said softly. She looked so apologetic, that Theodore hated it.

"She is not my mother," he said.

He turned to the visitors, two men and two women. "Leave!" he barked.

"I shall leave today but I will return to oversee everything here" the older woman said.

"You have no right to do that and you shall not be welcome here ever" Theodore snarled, his eyes blank.

"Theodore" Lydia whispered like a scold.

"Let us go to bed, Gooseberry, it misses us"

And with that, he banged the door on the unwanted visitors’ faces, picked up his wife and started to stroll inside.

Lydia was quiet for a while before she couldn’t help it.

"You have a mother," Lydia said in shock.

Theodore didn’t reply as he continued his walk.

"Is she really your mother? I am beginning to uncover your secrets" she commented again.

Theodore sighed. "She is not my mother," he said.

Lydia shifted in his arms. "Who is she then?"

"Salvatore’s Mother, the homewrecker" he replied.

"Oh, you really are royal," she said gleefully.

"And so are you, my love" he countered with a small smile.

"I am royal" she whispered dreamily.

He felt nice that she could be this excited about being royal but tomorrow when this rum wears off she might embrace her sadness again.

He had been shocked when he came back home to find her sad again.

"Theodore, she will come back again, we need to prepare," she said.

He narrowed his eyes as he asked. "Prepare what?"

Quickly she replied. "The mansion, the maids,... me?" uncertainty blends into her voice at the end.

He paused in his steps. "Why would you have to prepare?"

"I need to change my lazy schedule" she confessed.

Theodore grumbled. "You need not change, Gooseberry, you are perfect" he whispered.

She met his eyes. "I am?"

He balanced her in his arms. "Yes, my perfect berry in a tree of thorns," he said.

She touched his face, they were a few scrubs. "My lord husband Theodore is perfect too" she said back.

He smiled, thinly. "Why, Thank you, my wife"

He resumed his dinner to be stopped by her question. "Did you have dinner?"

"I am not hungry" he grunted.

Lydia started to move hastily, intending to leave his arms. "What are you doing?" Theodore asked with a smile.

"Wiggling" she replied as she continued, trying to leave his arm.

He shook his head. "I know you are wiggling, why are you wiggling in my arms?" he asked.

"We need to eat," she said.

"We do? I did not assume you were hungry, I am sorry" he apologized as he looked down at her.

"No silly, I am not hungry too but we should eat, Let me down" she requested.

Only because he wanted her to eat he nodded and let her down.

And only because she wanted him to eat did she insist they have dinner.

They both had no appetite but love led them.

In the grand dining room of their mansion, Lord Theodore and Lady Theodore sat at the ornate table, the space is bathed in the soft flickering glow of candlelight.

The room that was normally filled with an air of opulence, but tonight, it felt strangely hollow as the couple sat in silence the maids had already set the food, but they merely sat, their plates untouched before them.

They’re both clad in elegant yet comfortable sleeping attire befitting their station, Lord Theodore’s silk robe and Lady Theodore’s delicate nightgown hinted at the intimacy of the moment, despite the heavy weight of their hearts.

The aroma of the sumptuous meal, prepared with care by their devoted maid, wafted through the room, tempting but ultimately failing to stir their appetites. They were still in an unhealthy space.

Their minds were preoccupied with worry, each silently willing the other to eat, knowing that if one refused, the other would follow suit.

Lydia’s gaze flickered with concern as she watched her husband push his food around his plate, his appetite diminished by the weight of his burdens.

Beside her, as they say next to each other because Theodore wouldn’t sit on the head seat if she wouldn’t sit on his thighs, Theodore’s expression mirrored Lydia’s, his concern for his wife etched into the lines of his weary face.

He needed her to eat.

Despite their lack of appetite, neither was willing to let the other go hungry.

It was a silent testament to the depth of their love, a love that became proven even through the simple act of eating.

For in that moment, their shared concern for each other’s well-being was more nourishing than any meal could ever be.

And so, they gulped air before they started to eat, each morsel was a testament to their devotion, each bite a silent vow to stand by each other’s side through thick and thin.

Under the soft glow of the candlelight, their love shone brighter than ever, illuminating the darkness that was threatening to consume them.

After dinner they stood up silently and content, Theodore offered to pick Lydia up again but she refused, saying that she wanted to walk a bit before they reached their bedroom and the stairs were a good stretch.

They reached and he helped her stay tucked in bed before he climbed in, next to her.

His eyes fell on her lips. He missed them.

He missed her.

He met her eyes, they were drowsy and rimmed, red. He sighed as he dropped a kiss on the left eye, she clutched his arm, and he then kissed her right eye, she had them closed now.

He kissed her nose, they were red yet cold. He pressed a firm kiss to her lips before lying on his back.

He pulled her half on top of him while she sighed. She climbed further onto him and like a koala, she wrapped her arms around his head, burying his face in her neck.

He chuckled before tightening his hold on her, he snuggled as much as he could whilst she did too.

"I love you" he declared moments later when her breath evened and soon after he followed her into the land where his stepmother couldn’t jeopardize.

*

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*

Evening.

Conan’s Bungalow.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

Conan had left home early this morning to meet the Lord because whenever they came back from the monthly it gets really busy and paperwork doubled.

They left for work early and as Theodore returned to his mansion, Conan left for his bungalow that was brave to admit now feels like home.

As the knight returned to his bungalow after a long day of work. He is clad today in his noble armour, he pushed open the door with a sense of anticipation, wondering what the night would bring.

As he stepped inside, he scanned the cosy interior, expecting to see Helena bustling about, or in a corner reading, her presence is a comforting constant in their shared abode.

But to his surprise, the bungalow was eerily silent, devoid of her usual lively energy.

A flicker of concern danced in Conan’s chest as he called out her name.

"Helena!" The sound echoed softly in the empty space. With each passing moment, his worry grew, his mind racing with a thousand questions and fears.

Had she left without him knowing?

Was she unwell, or worse, in danger?

Conan’s heart hammered in his chest as he searched the rooms, his footsteps echoing hollowly against the wooden floorboards.

But as he reached the kitchen, his fears were assuaged as he caught sight of a hastily scrawled note resting on the table.

With a sense of relief flooding through him, the knight picked up the note and read the words written in her graceful script.

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