Chapter 2

I was escorted back to my little room. They called it "waiting in seclusion before marriage." In truth, it was house arrest with a pretty name.

Meals were delivered, but now there were two stout maids posted outside my door, never letting me take a single step out.

I lay on my bed, tossing and turning like a pancake on a griddle.

Dylan had really hit me where it hurt.

Where was I supposed to find a Tommy? The only Smith boy I knew in my village was called Timothy, not Tommy.

Let's be honest. Even if I'd had a real sweetheart waiting eight years ago, he'd be married by now. His kids would be old enough to fetch the milk. He wouldn't have waited for me.

I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration, looking back on my eight years of working my butt off as a maid.

Eight years ago, my father was deep in gambling debt. To pay it off, he tried to sell me to the butcher. I clung to the doorframe, screaming and refusing. He tore the belt from his waist and swore to beat the life out of me with it.

Just then, a group of people passed by, led by a young man—16-year-old Dylan.

He was probably just bored, so he casually tossed some cash my way and "bought" me on a whim.

I never believed he saved me. He bought himself a new toy. A living doll.

But the people in the manor didn't see it that way. To them, I was special. I was Dylan's own choice.

Special, my ass!

For eight years, I worked myself to the bone. He was my employer, my only duty. He drank only pour-over coffee, from a single-origin bean, and the water had to be exactly 198°F. Not a degree more or less. He was a total neat freak. Not a single wrinkle on his clothes. He was a light sleeper, so I learned to move during the night watch without making a sound.

I learned the art of being a flawless maid. I poured every bit of my cunning into it.

I had memorized all his likes and dislikes—better than his own mom. I even put together a cheat sheet on him and stashed it under my bed.

All so that one day, he'd remember my faithful service and gladly sign my release papers. So I could be free.

But no matter how clever I thought I was, I was no match for my cold-hearted master. He was always ten steps ahead.

He never once intended to let me go.

"Rose, what are you daydreaming about?" There came a sugary sweet.

I looked up to see Violet Baker, a junior maid, standing in the doorway. She swayed into the room carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming broth, her hips swinging as if on parade.

She'd always blamed me for stealing the head maid position from her. She'd made my life difficult in a hundred small ways, to my face and behind my back. Seeing her play the concerned friend now meant only one thing—she was up to something.

"Nothing," I said, sitting up. "Did you need something, Violet?"

She set the broth on the table and giggled, "Oh, Rose, you're about to be a free woman. I just had to come congratulate you ahead of time. But I'm so curious—who exactly is this Tommy that you'd choose him over General Harrington?"

I shot her a glance and said flatly, "Oh, he's just a country fellow. Not fit to be mentioned in the same breath as the General."

"Well, of course not," she said, jealousy practically dripping from her eyes. "But your village... it's a hard journey from the city. Ten days, at least. Maybe two weeks. Even riding fast. And the General only gave you a month. How will your Tommy get here in time?"

My heart sank.

Time. That was the catch.

Even if I could magically produce a Tommy out of thin air, getting him here within a month was another battle entirely.

Dylan, the ruthless schemer, had thought of everything.

When she saw my face darken, Violet's grin got even smugger. "Oh, don't worry too much, Rose. Maybe your Tommy has been waiting for you all along. Oh, and by the way, I just passed through the front hall and heard the General has ordered posters put up all over the city. To help find your 'long-lost love.'"

"What?" The cup slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor.

Posters. All over the city.

He was making me a public spectacle.

So when they came up empty-handed, with no Tommy in sight, what then? I was finished.

The panic boiled over into rage. I shoved past Violet and threw open the door.

"I want to see the General!" I yelled.

The maids at the door blocked me. "Rose, the General's orders. You're not to leave."

"Out of my way!" I snapped, my voice shaking with rage. "Dylan, show yourself. You're trying to ruin my life. You can't just keep me locked up like this!"

I screamed, my voice raw. I didn't care if I sounded mad.

Silence answered me from inside.

Just when I thought he was going to ignore me, the door creaked open.

Dylan stood in the doorway, dressed in dark casual clothes, stone-faced as he stared at me.

"Finished?" he asked, his voice calm but as cold as ice.

I stiffened my neck, staring him down. "You can't treat me like this. I've worked myself to the bone for you these eight years. I may not have been perfect, but I tried. Is this all the thanks I get?"

"Thanks?" He snorted. "My 'thanks' is waiting to see how you plan to produce this Tommy."

He paused, his gaze as sharp as a knife as it swept across my face. "Rose, I'm giving you one last chance. If you want to change your mind, now's the time."

I looked at him and suddenly laughed.

"General, do you really think I can't live without you?" I straightened my back, my voice unwavering. "Well, I'm leaving. And you can't stop me. Just wait. I'll bring Tommy here. We'll have a proper wedding, a procession, everything."

With that, I turned and walked away, my head held high, not looking back.

Back in my room, my legs gave out, and I collapsed into a chair.

Great, I really talked myself into a mess this time.

Now, I had to find some guy named Tommy Smith and convince him to marry me. Immediately.