### Chapter 7: Contract Conditions (2) The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow through the window as Edgar regarded Alessandra with a keen glint in his eyes. "I suppose arriving at this hour did little to enhance my men’s opinion of you. They might just consider you a criminal. Please, take a seat," he gestured toward a chair opposite him, the tone of his voice tightly laced with curiosity. "I find myself quite intrigued. How did you manage to slip away from your father’s home—where it is said you are never allowed to venture? Did you outsmart him, or did he grant you his blessing for this visit?" As Alessandra settled into the chair, she mulled over his words carefully, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I am not allied with my father in any way. He would never permit me to breach those walls. In fact, he would consider my suggestion as sheer madness—an absurd thought that you might actually welcome me here." "Does your father despise you?" Edgar’s inquiry was direct, devoid of any unnecessary preamble. The gravity of their discussion demanded nothing less. Alessandra paused, contemplating before responding. "I do not believe my father hates me. More accurately, he feels ashamed. In a world such as ours, who would wish for a daughter that bears such a tarnished reputation?" "A parent’s love should transcend such trivialities. It’s unfortunate you were born a baron’s daughter, for elsewhere you would have known a warmer embrace," Edgar lamented, pitying her plight. To him, the powerful were often the ones to exile their kin, driven by the weight of family honor far more than by affection. "If I had been the daughter of farmers,” Alessandra shot back, “I would have been readily cast aside in favor of their harvests.” "Surely," he probed, "there must be an extraordinary reason for a farmer’s daughter to don a mask. Is it not the nature of a baron’s daughter such as you to conceal deeper troubles? The circles of high society are rife with envy." The reality of his words hung heavily in the air. "Yes," she conceded, the truth cutting close. It was indeed envy that had driven her to this point, all rooted in her status as a baron's child. "Someone must have been intensely envious of you, Alessandra," he continued, leaning forward, an intensity igniting in his voice. "Let us for a moment agree that this is solely your plan and your father plays no part in it. Why would one who has spent the majority of her life in confinement seek the company of someone who exists in the limelight?" With a mixture of vulnerability and resolve, Alessandra admitted, "The thought of marrying you just slipped out. I had been seeking a suitable husband, but I never envisioned someone of your stature. I arrived at three points, Duke Edgar. First, your preference for solitude means I would not be compelled to socialize excessively. Second, my presence could deter others from encroaching upon you. Lastly, as a Duke, your status would provide a certain level of protection against my family." Only last night, she had weighed the advantages of forming this alliance in her restless thoughts. Partnering with someone whose rank surpassed her father’s would force her adversaries back into their corners, giving her a chance to escape the confines of her prison-like home. Edgar's brows furrowed in contemplation. "It is true that I enjoy my privacy; yet there are familial and professional events I cannot evade. Am I to make these appearances alone? It would be rather dull should you remain cloistered away." "Duke Edgar," Alessandra interrupted, her voice steady or perhaps pleading, "you misunderstand. My hiding was never born of desire; it was a compulsion of obedience. I yearn to explore the town, attend social gatherings, and sweep across the dance floor. I may lack experience, and confidence may elude me, yet I refuse to dwell in shadows any longer." She held his gaze, the intensity of her confession making her heart race. “Hmmm,” Edgar mused, a thoughtful sound escaping his lips. “A week ago, I would not have entertained this conversation, but tonight I find myself in a rather playful mood.” He slid a parchment across the desk towards her, ornate edges drawing her eye. “What is this?” Alessandra asked, her curiosity piqued as she examined the document. "A marriage contract must outline its regulations and stipulations, wouldn’t you agree?" Edgar replied, his voice smooth and confident as he nudged a pen and ink closer to her. "Let us begin." Her eyes widened, a rush of shock pooling in her chest as the realization sank in—he had agreed to her proposal. Part of her had anticipated a longer debate; the ease of this moment felt almost surreal. "What are you waiting for?" Edgar urged, noting her hesitation. "Forgive me," she stammered, reaching for the paper and pen, yet gasped when he suddenly grasped her wrist before she could touch the contract. "What is amiss with your hand?" he demanded, a sharp look crossing his features as he noticed the faint redness encircling her knuckles. His gaze darted to her other hand, unblemished and whole. "Did you strike something—or did someone lay hands upon you?" "It’s nothing," she retorted, swiftly extricating her hand from his grip, fighting a surge of embarrassment. "It is most certainly something. After all, you will be my future wife. I do not take kindly to anyone laying harm upon my people. Name the culprit, and I shall ensure they face justice," Edgar asserted, his tone shifting from casual to dangerously serious. With their impending union, her concerns became interwoven with his own. "It was merely an accident, Duke Edgar—" “Just Edgar,” he interjected firmly, but with a hint of softness in his voice. “Let it be known: do not let ‘accidents’ become commonplace in your life while residing there before our wedding." "I will endeavor to do my best. Based on our prior discussions, I believe mutual indifference shall be our first condition. Love shall not be a concern on my end," Alessandra replied, inscribing the first rule with determined strokes. "I hope you will maintain this clarity until the very end," Edgar remarked, studying her with unwavering intensity. She lifted her gaze to him, taking note of his striking features. He was undeniably handsome, yet she knew him not beyond that. In truth, if desperation had not led her to seek an escape from her father’s grasp, she would never have entertained a man of his caliber. “You are not my type, Edgar.” “So there is a type, is there?” His curiosity flared, as if he wondered what sort of man could ever ignite a spark within her. "I may have lived in seclusion, but I have not been blind. Now, what should the second condition be?" She sought to shift the conversation away from romantic matters. “Clearly, speak of this arrangement to no one but my butler, Alfred. He will be your protector in challenging times. Third, communication is essential—do not permit minor grievances to fester and escalate; it is utterly vexatious," Edgar delineated further. "Agreed," she nodded, finding no issue with these terms. “Furthermore, I must insist on the right to keep my mask on until I feel confident enough to remove it.” "That is your prerogative. And fifth," he smirked slightly, "we must share a bed. Why the surprise? Did you honestly think I would not sleep beside my own wife?" Alessandra’s mind reeled momentarily, reset, as she absorbed the implication. “I had assumed we’d maintain separate quarters, but… it stands to reason. Couples do share a bed." "Of course, everyone does, regardless of age," Edgar affirmed, idly rolling a smooth stone between his fingers, the casual gesture a stark contrast to the weight of their conversation. "Young? How young?" she inquired, her tone laced with the innocence of curiosity. Only then did he realize the misunderstanding threading through her thoughts. “Sleeping, Alessandra! I meant sleeping. Yet, if you wish for something more—” “No! Sleeping is entirely sufficient,” she interrupted, digging her gaze into the parchment as embarrassment crept over her. “Is there anything else to include?” “No, we have outlined the fundamentals. Any additional conditions can be addressed through future communications. You do not seem the sort to complicate matters, so we can amend things as we see fit. Now, please sign," Edgar prompted, his patience waning slightly. “Do you not wish to include consequences for breaching this contract?” she hesitated, wary of the potential ramifications. “We have yet to define the duration of our marriage, either.” “The principal point of this contract is secrecy. Should anyone discover that our union is founded on such an agreement, it would inflict greater harm upon you than me. I intend to remain a Duke; those in society will delight in humiliating you for necessitating a contract. I trust you do not desire that." Her head shook in swift denial. “Lastly, I should clarify—we shall be wed indefinitely. I presumed that was self-evident,” Edgar revealed, the declaration leaving her momentarily speechless. “Ensure that you log this into the contract, as it holds great significance.” Thus, the weight of the future began to take shape between them, intertwined with hidden motives and unforeseen longing, as Alessandra prepared to sign her name upon the threshold of an unknown destiny.