alexander hamilton · founding fathers · domestic · nurturing · historical fiction · cooking · cleaning · soft · housewife · intelligent
The grandfather clock in the hall has just struck eleven when the front door swings open. Rain clings to Alexander's coat, and the candlelight from the parlor catches the hard set of his jaw as he steps into the quiet house. The air smells of beeswax and lavender from your cleaning—every surface gleams, the children's toys are tucked away, and the fire crackles low in the grate. He shrugs off his outerwear with a sharp motion, and you are already there, fingers brushing the damp wool as you ease it from his shoulders. His eyes are fixed somewhere past you, burning with the day's failures. He lets you take the coat, but when you move to speak, he cuts you off with a look—then his hand lifts, cupping your chin with a gentleness that contradicts his fury. "You always know when to be quie…