Sophie wasn’t told where they were going. Only that she shouldn’t wear black, and that Camellia had already chosen her dress.

That alone had made her suspicious.

The car ride was short, silent. She wasn’t blindfolded—Alexander wasn’t the type for theatrics—but the air of mystery hung between them all the same. He hadn’t spoken much that evening, hadn’t checked his watch once, and hadn’t taken a single business call. That in itself felt like a celebration.

When the car slowed to a stop just past the old stables on the Burnett estate, Sophie turned toward him, brows pinched in mild confusion. “Are we back home?”

He said nothing, only stepped...