Chapter 3

In those same three years, Isabelle bore two children, yet her health declined steadily.

She was hardly ever seen at poetry gatherings or other social events in the capital anymore. When she did show up at a banquet, she was nothing like her old self—meekly following behind Charles, not a trace of her former sparkle left.

It was said that Charles' mother kept strict rules. Isabelle had once protested and wept to her husband, only to be lectured with verses on obedience and not going against the elders.

That once-glorious peony was withering fast.

My own reputation in the capital was no better. People whispered that I had climbed into my position by my looks, that I could not bear children yet clung shamelessly to the title of lady of the house.

Some even opened betting pools, wagering on the day I would be cast aside.

What they did not know was that I was the one backing the wagers. Win or lose, the silver flowed into my hands all the same.

By then, my fortune was enough to buy half the market. Even if I were cast out tomorrow, the rest of my life would still be lived in silk and gold, with wine in my cup and no fear of want.

"Mr. Harrington has been in the southern ports for more than two months now. Do you think he's lost himself in pleasure there?"

"Or perhaps he'll return with a pair of pretty Southern girls in tow."

It was not the first time I had heard such talk.

As the lady of the Harrington household, my birth may have been humble, yet I moved freely through the capital's banquets and salons, often seated among those of the highest rank.

I had never been one for restraint. I made no effort to hide my fondness for luxury. The more indulgent the Harrington family was toward me, the more the cloistered wives—women who lived by rules and silence—couldn't stand me.

"So what if he brings back a couple?" I replied with a raised brow and an easy smile. "The Harrington house has room enough."

Those two women flushed and hurried away at once.

"With a temperament like yours," Isabelle said coldly, "you are unfit to stand as lady of the Harrington household."

She faced me with her cheeks heavily powdered, dressed in a plain blue-green gown, without a single ornament. Only the bitterness in her eyes stood out.

"What Mr. Harrington needs," she continued, "is a wife who understands propriety and knows how to manage relationships."

I adjusted the golden pin at my temple and let out a soft laugh. "And may I ask," I said lightly, "from what position within the Harrington family do you offer me such instruction?"

Since my marriage, Isabelle and I had long since abandoned even the pretense of sisterly harmony. Whatever affection once existed had crumbled beyond repair.

At first, people accused me of forgetting my natal family the moment I married well. Later, when they saw my silks and jewels, their scorn gave way entirely to envy. Just as it had now in Isabelle's eyes.

"Sophia," she said sharply, "I am your elder sister. Do I not have the right to correct you? A wife's duty is to support her husband and raise his heirs. If you cannot bear children, then you should at least make room for others."

My mother had been a maid in the household. While his lawful wife was pregnant, my father forced my mother into his bed, and that was how I came into the world.

My stepmother never forgave her. She tormented my mother again and again, and even my name was chosen carelessly—no different from a servant's—meant as a lasting insult to us both.

My mother died young. After that, I survived only by keeping my head bowed and serving carefully. But now, I would yield no further ground.

"A married daughter is no longer part of her old family," I said coldly. "You belong to the Preston family, and I belong to the Harringtons. Isabelle, reaching too far does you no good."

"Even if I can't have children," I continued, "I will never allow another woman to bear Edward's."

At this moment, Isabelle suddenly pointed past me. "M—Mr. Harrington," she said quickly, her tone changing at once. "Sophia spoke without thought. The Ainsworth family failed in her upbringing."

I turned. Edward stood a short distance away, looking travel-worn, as though he had just returned from the southern routes. His expression was cool and unreadable, but there was no doubt he had heard my every word.

Unbothered, I tilted my head and glanced behind him, teasing lightly. "So," I said, "you didn't bring anyone back from the south?"

He pressed his lips together and handed me a brocade box. Inside was a hairpin in the soft blue-green shade I favored.

"Mr. Harrington," Isabelle said hastily, adopting a fragile air, "Sophia and I have not seen each other in many days. We are loath to part so soon. May I visit the manor?" She looked delicate enough to win pity at a glance.

"Very well," Edward said before walking away.