“It’s usually the valet’s job to do this,” Gerda said, folding the cravat around Elsa’s collar. “The valet or the wife.” Gerda would not know what those words did to her, but Elsa didn’t bat a lash. “Good thing you’re a wife, then. Give Harold my regards.” Gerda tightened the cravat just a little too much on purpose. “You know what I mean,” she said sternly. “You shouldn’t be fighting on your wedding day.” “No, I imagine we’ll have the rest of our lives for that.” Or however long it took for Anna to realize she didn’t want to be married to her anymore. The look Gerda sent her for that comment, though, had her shoulders slumping. “We didn’t fight. I was discourteous. Anna took offense.” Rightfully so, a voice in the back of her mind said. The housekeeper frowned at Elsa. “You have excellent manners and you are well bred. Why would you do that to your own wife?” Elsa shrugged. She couldn’t very well say that she had all but thrown Anna out of her room because she hadn’t wanted to kiss her. She had wanted very much to kiss Anna again, only Elsa didn’t trust herself not to do something else stupid or rash or both. Kissing already counted as both those and more, she just couldn’t think of the words right then. Feeling miserable seemed to make up for her lack of eloquence. “I’ll apologize to her,” was the best Elsa could manage. Gerda finished the knot. “There. And good, every marriage should start with a clean slate. Sit, I’ll put your hair up.” A clean slate wasn’t possible for them—Elsa thought of the clause, the need for an heir, and how those important things had already tainted the marriage before it could begin. It wasn’t going to be a real marriage. It was never going to be a real one like her own parents had.