When Vaughan woke to find Lecia still delicately arranged in his arms, he was relieved. It had not been another wearying dream. Recalling it all, the reality was much more satisfying than his fantasies.

"Will you tell me, then?" she had asked shyly.

Baffled, he'd replied, "what?"

"You said I've never been able to understand," she murmured, eyes cast down and drawing away.

She had raised herself to sit and peered down her perfect nose to see the dawning on his face.

Her hair had begun to tumble from its pile, the once central knot off to the side of her head. Now that she was upright there were more rebellious coils tight against her neck and some floating midway between captivity and freedom. Lecia didn't seem to mind it, truthfully neither did Vaughan, but seeing her then he needed to release the mass of her long and lovely hair so that he might finally touch it.

With the poise of a duke, he reached out and let loose the knot. With the determination of a man, he slid his hand behind her head and wrapped his fingers in her thick hair. With eloquence of a poet he said, "My cariad—my love—rwy'n dy garu di." With the tenderness of a lover, he placed a gentle kiss on her unmoving lips. And, with the urgency of a starved beast, he searched the seas of her eyes and felt for the beating of her heart.

Finding exuberance under his fingertips and anticipation in her brilliant gaze, Vaughan pulled his wife in close and pressed his rough cheek against the softness of hers to whisper, "I love you" in her ear.

Her touch grazed his skin so lightly that he was not sure it was real, but he did not imagine the steady hand the guided his face away. She had wanted to look at him, though not to confirm truths or see him grin if she echoed the sentiment. In fact, she could not speak—it was an effort even to breathe—and she had needed him to know that her eagerness matched his.

Relaxed then, as she slept soundly against his chest, he lay still so as not to wake her. He let her rest while he admired the transitions of the sky from sunrise to late morning. After some thought, he realized that there were no appropriate contemporary euphemisms to describe their actions. Lecia had almost always been a woman in the time he had known her; perhaps marriage had matured her, but even as a girl she was defined. In that regard, too, there was not anything missing from her now; she was as whole as when he had met her. If anything had changed, it was that she had bloomed rather than been pruned, but even that was not due to anything he had either taken or given.

Furthermore, he had never considered innocence to be anything more than an internal state of naivety and ignorance that could not be altered by an external force. There were men of the court who exhibited more innocence than children, yet they defined it a commodity of femininity that was easily bartered, traded, or bought. No, the Duke did not share that sentiment at all. Nor had he ever felt that it was sinful. Though, most others did and thus his reputation often preceded him, but maybe now that he had coupled affection and passion, even he saw some fault in those ways. Still, though, as his Duchess nestled herself into the hollows of his arms and neck and chest, he could not fathom a reproachful thing about her existence.

On the other hand, Vaughan was not impressed by his own behavior. There had, of course, been both consent and great restraint, he was concerned that it was too soon. She was still grieving, and despite their companionship being a comfort to both of them, he knew it was possible she had not known what it was they had done. Really, he worried that she might be regretful when she woke, and his heart simply could not take it.

But what would he know of love? He felt it, yes, but he had not often received it. Perhaps he was the innocent one.

After some time, Vaughan was beckoned from bed by his empty stomach. He called for Izzy to deliver breakfast to the apartment, and when the maid arrived with a tray of fruits and pastries, she reminded the Duke that he'd brought his wife home a gift.

Although he was hesitant to wake her, he was quite sure she would not mind. So, after making absolutely sure that the small creature would not make a mess in their bed, Vaughan released the wriggling, curious puppy he had acquired. The young dog's infantile legs stumbled over the rippled sheets, his marbled nose sniffed over ever fold. When he finally made it to his new mother, he identified her quickly before licking her chin. Grinning all the while, the Duke stifled a laugh when Lecia finally stirred from the tickling of whiskers and promptly frowned when the dog yelped.

One of Vaughan's long arms swooped down to capture the puppy once more so as to let his distraught wife adjust to wakefulness and motherhood. He held the dog to his chest and sat down beside her.

"I did say I'd get you a dog," he said, offering a comforting smile. Lecia was unmoving, even her face was stoic as the frozen statues out back. His joy was fading quickly; perhaps it had been a bit much too soon. Especially f her conscious realizations were even remotely similar to his.

"I—" she frowned, looked away, and then returned her gaze to the tranquil canine nodding off against Vaughan's heart. "You did. Thank you," she said.

She didn't meet her husband's eyes as she lifted herself fully upright, clinging to the sheet wrapped over her chest. The Duke suddenly found it hard to swallow, and, disgruntled with the quickening of his pulse, the tiny setter bounded away and toward the Duchess. There was an upturning of her mouth as she pet the small hound and ran his soft ears between her fingers.

"I've never seen such a thing," she murmured as the stumpy-legged pup curled himself into her lap. "Where is he from?"

Vaughan met her eyes and cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, I'd mentioned to Zeke about needing a dog, and he apparently had just been hunting with some associates who'd employed some excellent dogs. Zeke hunts frequently," he explained, "and he was quite impressed with the setters. At the time, he had inquired for his own interest, and the breeder wrote him shortly after I saw him last. Some fellow named Llewellin said he'd been breeding English Setters and would be very much obliged if Zeke would take one of his recent pups. Zeke responded that he'd like two, posthaste, and they arrived just a few days ago."

The puppy was asleep, comforted by the soft stroking of his head by Lecia's gentle hand. She smiled and peered up at Vaughan.

"Llewellin?" she asked.

"Ie," he nodded. "The man's an Englishman, though, but I still reckon that's why Zeke got two. I'd likely have asked for one even if it wasn't for you."

"What's the significance of it?" she wondered, thinking of his old horse. "I never thought to ask."

"Ah," Vaughan sighed. "Llewellyn ap Iorwerth—Llewellyn Fawr, Prince of Gwynedd—was an ancient Prince of Wales. Though, his son Dafydd was the first to call himself Prince of Wales, but he was a monarch nonetheless. Mam told me many stories about him, and daid said we'd descended from his line," he laughed, recalling the absurdity of the claim. "This breeder spells his name a bit differently, though."

"Oh," was all she said.

"I've always named my horses after heroes," he told her. "I had one called Gwyndion like the magician, and now there's Beli Mawr. He's really less of a hero and more of a patriarch, but he is quite mysterious and the name suites the horse rather well, I think."

"It does," Lecia agreed. "I think I ought to read these tales some time," she sighed.

"That might be wise," he grinned. "It's a thick stack of books, though. I heard most of it as stories growing up. Daid and nain couldn't read, so it was a surprise to learn they knew most of the tales simply from memory."

"That is impressive," she granted. "I have a lot to learn, then."

"You have time," he said. "Now, what are you going to call this pest?" Vaughan ran his knuckles softly over the puppy's twitching snout.

"I was thinking," she began blithely, "that I might name him Dove."

Her husband stiffened slightly and studied her even expression.

The puppy had not matured enough to be fully colored, but in his immaturity his coat was a muted grey. He wasn't quite white, as his black ticking was beginning to develop underneath. The tip of his nose was speckled with tiny brown spots that faded to black as they travelled over the top of his head. His tiny feet were the same, paws splattered like mud but knees freckled with ink.

"Well," Lecia said, "he's meant to replace you. When you're in town, he'll keep me company." She waited a moment before catching her husband's eye and continuing. "It's only appropriate that, no matter the circumstances, I always have a little dove to warm my bed."

"Minx," he accused her, the word barely making it from his lips.

She simpered back and said, "Perhaps you should find him somewhere else to nap for now." With both hands, Lecia scooped up the warm creature and passed him off to Vaughan.

At a loss, the Duke was on his feet in futile effort to relocate the dog. Thus far his only idea was to set the thing down and leave it at that; even though he'd averted his gaze from his demure enchantress of a wife, he could not think of anything else.

"Here," she interrupted his thoughts.

When he turned to see what she offered, he spotted a coiled mound of cloth on the floor beside the bed. Incredulous, his glaucous eyes flicked upward still and found that, in fact, she had taken the sheet from the bed and arranged it for the dog.

"I'm quite sure of two things," she said calmly. "First, it is impolite to stare. Second, you should never keep a duchess waiting."

"Of course, your grace." He nodded and set the puppy in the makeshift basket before sinking back into bed with his mystic wife.

Fair warning, I sometimes just don't even read through what I wrote because 1) I'm lazy af, and 2) I feel like you'd rather just read it asap with a few issues. So, my apologies if there are any crazy errors or anything. I'm pretty good, though, so I don't think any of the problems should be too bad. But anyway. Thanks peeps.

Also, I know some of the stuff recently might have been coming across as awkward maybe (?) and that's partially because I decided to change some of the plans I'd made. I plan on going back and editing everything when I'm completely finished, so that will all hopefully get smoothed out. Suggestions would be considered and appreciated. Anyway. I apologize if you're ever like: why does this psycho talk about ponies and weird things so much. But I love ponies and weird stuff. And I love English Setters and all the things fit and if you ever want to know more or talk about or correct anything about ponies, puppies, or Welsh things, please message me or something. Especially the Welsh part. I try my darndest to be accurate, but my knowledge is limited. Kay. Sorry again. Mostly for this long note.

**After completing this story, it came to my attention that some people didn't catch my drift the first time around in this chapter. So Imma just lay out for you what I'd been thinking, but I plan to edit this chapter so no one else gets confuzzled.

First, I named the chapter "Innocence". I try to be on point with titles, even if they're a little obscure at times, but this one's pretty explanatory. Or I thought it had been...

Second, I did refer to Vaughan as a "lover," which was meant to imply a degree of carnal intimacy. Also, "felt for the beating of her heart" sounds all nice and poetic and crap, but if we really think about that one, HE WAS TOUCHING HER BOOB, GUYS.

"Her eagerness matched his" is me telling you that Lecia was feeling it. With all of the boob touching and whispering and kissing and stuff that was happening, you know Vaughan had to be feeling something, and sure enough Lady L was equally excited about the thing.

When I said "no appropriate contemporary euphemisms" I was drawing attention to the Victorians' 1001 ways to say something without actually saying what you mean (which I guess I actually kind of did, but everyone actually knew what each other meant back in the day...). Furthermore, the rest of that paragraph touches on a few specific euphemisms for IT: #1 "Lecia had almost always been a woman in the time he had known her" = "becoming a woman"; #2 "there was not anything missing from her now" = "loss of innocence" (tie to the chapter name, anyone?); #3 "she had bloomed rather than been pruned" = "deflowering".

The next paragraph goes on to say "now that [Vaughan] had coupled affection and passion". Coupled is another euphemism for sex, but that's not the grammatical function of the word in this particular sentence. So is passion. A euphemism, that is. ALL THE EUPHEMISMS!

Big chunk here: "Vaughan was not impressed by his own behavior. There had, of course, been both For me, the word consent is ladened with sexual connotations.and great restraint, he was concerned that it was too soon. She was still grieving, and despite their Maybe, not the strongest of clues, but good for emphasis. being a Getting it on is one way for stress to get gone.to both of them, he knew it was possible she had not known what . What did they do? Why was Vaughan worried about his wife regretting it? I don't know.

I'm too tired to go on. I think you might be able to figure it out from here. I trust you. I also didn't mean to come off as an ass with my sassy explanations. I'm tired and I just like being sassy.