Primrose stepped further into the boutique, her eyes scanning the rows of delicate fabrics and neatly displayed gowns.
The boutique carried the soft scent of lavender and fresh linen, a calming fragrance that made the place feel warm and welcoming.
Edmund followed behind her, doing his best not to knock anything over with his broad shoulders.
Truthfully, he looked a little out of place among the sparkling dresses.
Because of that, one of the boutique assistants kindly guided him to sit in the corner of the room, a spot that most men jokingly referred to as the "torture chair."
It earned that name because husbands would often sit there for what felt like forever while their wives tried on dress after dress. Many swore never to come along again because it felt more exhausting than any battle.
Primrose had expected Edmund to grow restless within half an hour, or even sooner.
