Chapter 1

Alexander Petersen was the wealthiest man in Elmsville, having pursued my sister, Makenna Stafford, for two years, going to great lengths just to make her smile.

On an evening at the party, he presented her with a priceless silk dress, an exquisite creation that left every noblewoman in Elmsville envious.

I stood quietly in the corner and, in a low voice, asked her, "Makenna, truly, you don't like it?"

But Makenna merely sneered and, in a loud voice, declared, "He has no military record, no real ability, just a businessman reeking of money. Only the short-sighted and greedy would be a match for him."

Her words were met with approving sneers from the entire room, effectively putting an end to any lingering admiration for Alexander.

I looked down at my worn shoes and socks and replied softly, "How fitting. Doesn't that describe me perfectly?"

Makenna furrowed her brows, still stunned by my response, as I turned and walked away.

Outside, Alexander turned, looking despondent.

I stopped him, smiled up at him, and said, "I may be a bastard daughter, but I'm still the daughter of a Marquis. She might look down on you for being a merchant, but that's exactly what I admire. Will you marry me?"

*****

I looked up at Alexander Petersen and asked, loud and clear, "Will you marry me?"

He was clearly taken aback, a flash of disbelief crossing his eyes as he instinctively glanced back toward the Stafford mansion.

From inside, the music and laughter spilled out through the half-open red doors, the lively scene sounding like a world apart, yet not a soul bothered to peek outside.

Even the pile of gold and jewels stacked in ornate boxes behind him seemed dull in comparison.

I crossed my arms, looking completely at ease.

"Don't waste your time looking. Lady Makenna doesn't care about you. She's still holding out for General Leonel Hayden to come back," I said.

Alexander whipped his head around to stare at me, his face a mix of confusion and surprise, like my words just didn't compute.

I couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled myself.

"Wait, you really didn't know? Lady Makenna's been in love with General Hayden for three years now. Anyone who's anyone in Elmsville knows about it," I said.

His brows knitted together, frustration clear in his voice.

"She never told me! Every time I gave her something, she'd say no, but she always took it anyway. I thought... I thought she liked me, she was just shy," he said.

I couldn't help but make a face. He always seemed so smart, but when it comes to stuff like this, he's totally clueless.

If he'd bothered to ask any servant in the Stafford family, they'd have told him that Makenna went all the way to the city gates to see Leonel off before he left for war three years ago.

But with Leonel away at the front and no word from him for the past two years, people stopped bringing it up. Turned out, Alexander really was in the dark.

My gaze lingered on the sparkling pile of jewels behind him, and I couldn't help but feel a little greedy. My fingers practically itched to touch them. I sidled a bit closer.

"Ever thought about me? What if I'm the one who marries you?" I teased.

"You?" Alexander looked me up and down, his voice straightforward. "Honestly, you've got way more spirit than Lady Makenna, but..."

Seeing a glimmer of hope, I pressed, "What's the catch?"

He sighed, his gaze drifting to my worn-out, faded sleeves.

"Honestly, you look pale and thin, like you're running on fumes. Give me a moment to think this over," he said.

And he just stood there, lost in thought, as if he'd never come out of it.

The sun hung high above, beating down on me. My legs ached from standing too long, sweat prickling at my temples.

I pursed my lips, growing impatient. My heart thudded hard.

Had I just done something reckless?

So what if I did?

I had no other options. Mom died young, and Dad never cared about me anyway.

Even if Alexander refused, Makenna's plan would see me married off to that fifty-something widower as his second wife. Could things really get any worse?

But seriously, how long does he need to think about it?

I was about to turn and mutter, "Forget it," when Alexander's frown softened, his usual casual swagger vanishing.

I straightened up, mirroring his serious expression.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Caught off guard, Alexander paused, then stood tall and offered a formal bow, his demeanor entirely earnest.

"Lady Isabela, wait for me at the Stafford residence for a few hours. I'll return soon with my family to formally request your hand," he said.

True to his word, Alexander appeared at dawn the next day, bringing with him a lavish marriage proposal that left no room for ambiguity.

The betrothal gifts formed a dazzling parade, stretching from the Petersen estate to the gates of the Stafford residence.

Agate, emeralds, and silks were stacked into towering piles, wrapping the main street of Elmsville three times, while crowds pressed along the sides just to marvel.

From the veranda, I watched in quiet awe, finally letting myself relax.

Dad might always sneer at merchants, but honestly. Who would refuse that kind of fortune?

Within thirty minutes, the butler rushed in, announcing that Alexander had sent an additional million dollars in cash.

Just days ago, Weston Stafford, the Marquis, had acted as if I were invisible. Now, his mustache seemed like it might fly off his face from grinning so hard.