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Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual

"I have waited for you in all of my lives, Gooseberry, and in all of them you had left. Please stay in this one," he pleaded, his eyes locked with hers. "I wish to stay too, My Lord Husband, because you are forever, Theodore," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. In a world where Lydia Statham, an illegitimate girl shunned as an abomination, is confined to her noble-born family’s estate, her only escape comes through books and stories of the outside world. But destiny intervenes when she receives an invitation to a bridal pick banquet at one of Critic Arley’s grandest mansions. What was supposed to be a chance for a new beginning soon becomes a solitary encounter with Lord Theodore, a feared outcast and enemy of the Empire. Lord Theodore, of royal blood but without a surname, has never desired a wife, and the idea of cohabiting with a woman seems unfathomable. Yet, at the banquet thrown by Conan, where every young lady was invited, only Lydia appears. Now, Theodore must confront his deepest reservations as he navigates the ritualistic demands and unearths feelings he never anticipated. In a tale of forbidden desires and unspoken promises, every season, every day, and forever, Theodore's life will revolve around the ritual that is Lydia—his chosen, his fate. No one came but her. His Gooseberry. ************** "Call me Lordess Theodore" "I am Lordess Theodore and I am his favourite ritual" Dear Critic. Do you wish to https://buymeacoffee.com/nanafirdausi Discourse with me on discord @i_nanafirdausi Cover photo is mine.

I_Nana_Firdausi · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
294 Chs

Miss Lydia Is My Wife.

Late Evening.

Theodore Chambers, Citadel.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

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

The maid that had been sent to bring down the couple started with a slight frown. "But your highn-"

Theodore turned to her, his eyes dangerous and livid, he spoke to her without words, and she paled before quickly nodding.

"Right away, Your Highness" she bowed and they all left the room.

The royal maids hurried towards the grand dining hall, their footsteps echoed against the stone walls in the dimly lit corridors of the castle, the air was thick with tension as their delicate aprons fluttered behind them while they moved with urgency, their faces etched with worry and fear.

The Lord had refused to come down but the King and this mother were impulsive and cruel.

As they approached the ornate double doors leading to the dining hall, the head maid, a woman of stern demeanour motioned for the others to pause.