My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 8

Soren thought of the book Fiona had given him–the one that turned out to be no poetry collection at all, but a scandalous manual on intimacy, complete with her pointed notes. It was evidence enough that Fiona, despite her delicate exterior, possessed skills in bending men’s hearts, though hardly the sort befitting a noblewoman.

Callum, after some consideration, suggested, “Why not settle your engagement to Ms. Roxanne quickly? Better that than to let these games drag on.”

If Soren were formally betrothed, the Niven family would have no ground to meddle further. And Roxanne was no ordinary choice–admired for her beauty and talents, sought after by countless young men. To secure her hand swiftly would prevent needless complications.

But Soren shook his head. “The court is unsettled. Now is no time for marriage negotiations.”

His Majesty’s suspicion is a blade above our heads. If he were to read an alliance between our family and the Thankerton family as ambition, it could bring disaster.

The crown prince had yet to be named. It was a season ripe with danger. Callum, recognizing the weight of Soren’s words, let the matter rest.

During the several hours Meryl and Fiona spent at the Zonfrillo Estate, neither Soren nor Callum appeared before them. The meaning was plain–the Zonfrillo family had no interest in forming ties through marriage. Fortunately, Meryl had not come with such intentions, so the subject was never raised.

After luncheon, Meryl rose to leave. Before departing, Fiona said to Penelope, “If you boil jasmine, honeysuckle, and bugbane into a salve, it helps fade scars from rashes. Perhaps you might find it useful, Duchess Zonfrillo.”

In her past life, Fiona had once suffered burns, and it had taken months of searching to obtain this remedy.

Penelope arched a brow but offered only a thin smile. “You’re thoughtful to concern yourself.”

Fiona knew well that her former mother–in–law reserved all her tenderness for her own kin. Still, Penelope’s fondness for beauty was undeniable. Fiona had little doubt she would try the recipe.

As soon as the mother and daughter departed, Winnifred commented admiringly, “Ms. Fiona is truly a beauty.”

“Are you thinking of her for Callum?” Penelope asked, her glance sharp.

Winnifred shook her head quickly. “I may appreciate her looks, but my son is not one to heed me in such matters.”

Penelope stifled a sigh. Everyone assumed Soren was the sensible one. Few realized he was just as stubborn.

When he was a boy, he had rebelled against his studies until his father’s whip left him bedridden for months. Yet still he did not yield until he himself chose to learn. That stubbornness had forged his skill in both letters and arms. Soren would never be steered against his own inclination.

Even Princess Jasmine, who had openly admired Soren, had long been kept at a distance. Penelope could not believe her son’s hand was not behind that quiet refusal.

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