Chapter 1
Plainness had been my lot in life.
With no beauty to recommend me, I'd done the practical thing: bought myself a handsome convict for a husband.
The man, however, had always thought himself above his station. He'd found me coarse and unrefined, preferring the backbreaking work of a farmhand to the comforts of being a spouse.
When his name was suddenly cleared, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He climbed onto the carriage bound for the capital without so much as a backward glance.
Before leaving, though, he'd turned to offer a final, cutting piece of advice. "Mary Rivers, a butcher would be your proper match. Someone more suited to your lowly status."
I'd always believed educated men knew best.
Taking his words to heart, I accepted the butcher's proposal. As a bridal gift, he gave me a generous half-side of beef.
But on our wedding night, as the candles burned low, it was not the butcher who lifted my veil.
A familiar face stared back at me, twisted with rage. "Who in heaven's name told you to marry?" he snarled.
*****
The day I learned Vincent's name, I was sitting by the well, puzzling over how to finally persuade him to accept me.
After all, I had bought him two years ago.
Two whole years I had spent coaxing, pushing, tempting, and threatening—hoping Vincent would just give in and let me take care of him.
But Vincent remained unmoved.
Whenever I brought it up, he'd reply with the same refrain. "You and I are not suited."
For two years, I wondered—what did "not suited" even mean?
Vincent never explained. He seldom spoke to me at all.
Just as I was running out of ideas, the rattling of carriage wheels outside brought the answer right to my door.
The next moment, the king's sister, Annabelle Watson, pushed open my worn wooden gate, her nose slightly wrinkled.
When her eyes fell upon Vincent—the once-refined Royal Chief Scholar, now dusty and turning a millstone behind my donkey—her beautiful eyes welled with tears.
All this time, Vincent had coolly lectured me about a woman's propriety and virtue.
But when Annabelle rushed forward and threw herself into his arms, he seemed to forget every word he'd ever preached.
He just stood there, hands hanging awkwardly in the air.
It took him a moment to recover from the shock.
He gazed down at the woman in his embrace, uncertainty in his voice. "Annabelle?"
She nodded through joyful tears. "It's me, Vincent. I'm here to bring you home," she said softly.
They just looked at each other, completely absorbed in one another.
It was as if me and the donkey were invisible.
Just to make my presence known, I stepped up and tugged at Annabelle's silky sleeve, gently reminding her.
"Miss, looks like you're hugging the wrong man—he's my husband," I said.
It was only then that Annabelle finally noticed me standing off to the side.
She glanced at me, uncertainty in her voice. "Husband?"
When I nodded, she turned to Vincent, her face frozen in shock.
Her voice shook as she asked, "Vincent Foster, you're married?"
That was how I learned his name—Vincent.
For two years, he had refused to tell me.
Vincent quickly denied it.
"No, she's just my employer," he blurted out.
His blunt correction stung, though I couldn't blame him—after all, he had never once agreed to be my husband.
When my mother first gave him the choice—marry me or work as a farmhand—he hadn't hesitated.
Still weak from illness, he walked straight out to the millstone.
Over these two years, I tried every tactic: threats, bribes, sweet talk, promises.
Still, Vincent would not have me.
Hearing Vincent's denial, Annabelle let out a soft sigh of relief.
Then she looked me over, her gaze cool and superior.
"A common village girl, daring to aspire to the Royal Chief Scholar?" she said slowly.
That wasn't fair. When I bought Vincent, he was just an exiled convict—a slave.
I hadn't known he was once the Royal Chief Scholar.
Besides, officials exiled to our remote province almost never returned.
Who could have guessed Vincent would be the exception?
Vincent paid no attention to Annabelle's disdain.
He simply turned to me, his tone flat. "Ms. Rivers, I'm afraid I cannot work today."