Chapter 2

I stepped out from the shadows. "Perhaps," I said lightly, "he has come to ask for my hand."

Isabelle scoffed, and my father merely shook his head with a smile. Everyone just thought I was being ridiculous.

Edward didn't come himself. Instead, he sent the capital's most silver-tongued matchmaker.

Once the woman finished delivering her message, Isabelle stared in disbelief and demanded it be repeated. When the answer remained the same, she turned and slapped me hard across the face. "What have you done?" she shouted. "Why are you stealing him from me?"

I covered my cheek. Isabelle had not held back; blood gathered at the corner of my mouth. "Isabelle," I said quietly, "I didn't steal Charles from you."

Isabelle clenched her teeth and looked ready to strike me again, but my stepmother stopped her in time.

Charles had already come to seek her hand. She had no choice but to let Edward go.

Thus, on the same day, both Isabelle and I received marriage proposals.

Edward sent 128 chests of betrothal gifts, filling the entire courtyard of the Ainsworth estate from wall to wall.

Charles sent only eight chests, along with a thick stack of love poems written in his own hand.

Each of us was pleased in her own way, moved, and satisfied.

My stepmother had no wish for me to marry Edward, but I answered her without a trace of concern, "My honor already lies with Edward. If Mother does not fear offending the Harrington family, then I can be wed to anyone she pleases."

The Harringtons may be merchants, but in an age ruled by trade, they had risen to become royal suppliers. They were no common traders to trifle with.

My father understood the stakes well. When Isabelle had refused Edward, he had been terrified of offending the Harringtons. Now that I would marry in her stead, he was more than content.

Isabelle was married half a month before me. Though her betrothal gifts were modest, her husband was the newly crowned laureate—handsome, learned, and admired. The wedding brought her no small measure of glory.

Charles' mother praised Isabelle at every turn, calling her gentle, dutiful, and respectful of her elders. Isabelle's reputation as a gifted woman only grew brighter with each compliment.

On the day she returned to her maiden home, she arrogantly brushed the Luminous Pearl from my hand. "As expected of a seductress' daughter," she sneered. "No taste, no vision—fixated only on shiny trinkets. You know nothing of true affection, which is what truly matters.

"Still, a merchant's wife suits you well. Men of that sort always take concubines sooner or later. Just wait—your tears will come."

Isabelle and my father both prided themselves on being scholars, aloof and lofty. They never seemed to realize that without the very coin they scorned, even their refined lives would grind to a halt.

My own wedding was handled simply by the Ainsworth family. Yet the Harringtons, as the foremost royal merchants of the realm, needed no grand display to inspire awe. Even in restraint, their presence alone astonished the capital.

The bridal veil obscured my sight, but the murmurs around me told me all I needed to know about the standing of the Harrington family.

Edward's hand was cold. He said little, saw me settled in the bridal chamber, and then left to attend his guests.

He returned late that night with the scent of wine on his breath. I greeted him with a smile, and our wedding night passed without discord.

The days after our marriage were just as smooth. He was often away on business. I, in turn, managed the household accounts and estates.

Edward's mother, Aurelia, was generous and open-handed. On the very next day, she began teaching me how to read ledgers and oversee trade. Once I had learned enough, she promised to entrust me with ten shops of my own.

A promise spoken from her lips carried real weight. It more than made up for Edward's absence when it came time to visit my natal family.

Besides, he gifted me a full set of gilt-and-amethyst ornaments, said to be the only one of its kind in the capital. I chose not to make an issue of anything else.

Isabelle went out of her way to return to the Ainsworth estate, greeting me with cold mockery. She claimed that I had lost favor the moment I married Edward and that this was the price of stealing her match.

I touched the gold bracelet at my wrist and laughed softly. If this was my punishment, it suited me just fine. I had money. And I did not need to wait upon a man every night.

Three years into the marriage, Edward and I grew increasingly in step with one another. We understood each other better, and even our glances grew more familiar. The only regret was that we had no children.

Aurelia never pressed me outright, but she made more prayers and pilgrimages with each passing season. Edward said nothing, yet he grew more attentive at night.

At last, worn thin, I suggested that he might take another woman into the household.

Edward neither agreed nor refused. The very next day, he departed for the southern trade routes, saying he would not return for three months.