Chapter 1

After my elder sister, Eleanor Sutton, returned home following the dissolution of her marriage, Theodore Crane postponed our wedding once again.

He explained, "Eleanor has only just parted ways with her husband. Holding our ceremony now would cast a shadow upon your reputation, Blakely."

I, Blakely Sutton, nodded silently in agreement.

This marked the third time Theodore had delayed our wedding.

The first time, he spent three years by Eleanor's side in Riverside under the guise of pursuing his studies.

After Eleanor married, he devoted another three years to guarding her from the distant borderlands, citing his need to build a name through military service.

And I had waited from the bloom of sixteen until becoming known throughout Kingston as a woman well past her prime.

This time, I refused to wait any longer. I pleaded with my grandmother to submit my name to the royal court.

The princess Giselle, the King's sister, was soon to depart for Serenity Abbey to offer prayers for the kingdom, seeking ten noble ladies to accompany her, a commitment from which none would return for three full years.

On the day of my departure, I sent the letter breaking our engagement to the Crane family.

Later, I heard that Theodore, ever the picture of restraint and dignity, kept vigil outside Serenity Abbey for a full month, pleading for a single chance to see me.

*****

"Blakely, I'm afraid we must postpone the wedding."

Theodore's voice came from the other side of my dressing room door. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the tender concern woven through his words, a tone that always surfaced when he spoke of Eleanor.

"She's heartbroken, fragile. If we proceed now, the gossip would wound her deeply. You know how people talk. If she were to fall ill from the distress, the blame would fall on you."

He was thinking of her reputation, her delicate constitution. Not once did he mention the whispers I would endure, again, for being put aside.

In truth, I had expected nothing less.

At the garden party just hours before, my mother had tentatively broached the subject of finalizing the wedding date. She hadn't even finished her sentence before Eleanor's composure crumbled.

Through trembling sobs, she declared she could not bear it. She could not watch her younger sister wed so soon after the collapse of her own marriage.

Theodore hadn't missed a beat. "Then we shall wait," he had said, his eyes fixed on Eleanor's trembling form. "Until you are in better spirits."

His mother, Mary, had cut in sharply, but Theodore had only turned to me with a placating smile. "Forgive me, Blakely. A poor jest."

I had known then. The wedding was off.

I thought I had braced myself. But hearing the formal declaration from his lips now, a sharp, cold ache pierced my chest.

My eyes burned as my fingers clenched in the silk of my wedding gown, the bones of my knuckles standing pale against my skin.

A long silence stretched between us. "Blakely?" His voice grew edged with impatience. "Surely you see the sense in it?"

What could I say? My opinion had never shaped his decisions.

But why was I always the one to yield? To wait three years, then another three?

A stubborn spark flared within me. "And if I refuse?" My voice was tighter than I intended. "Eleanor's marriage failed. Why must my future pay the price?"

The air chilled instantly. "Blakely." His tone was suddenly flat, distant. "She is your sister. To be so callous, so selfish in her hour of need..."

He paused, and when he continued, it was with finality. "If you insist on this petulant course, I shall have no choice but to send companions to instruct you in decorum.

"A woman with so little compassion is unfit to be my wife."

A bitter laugh caught in my throat. Hot, silent tears spilled over, leaving dark stains on the white silk.

If it became known that the Cranes had summoned teachers to "correct" the bride before the wedding, I would be a laughingstock.

The city would shred my reputation. No one would fault Theodore. They would say I was lacking, that my character was flawed.

He was backing me into a corner, stripping me of dignity and choice.

I swallowed the sob, forcing my voice into submission. "Very well. Postpone it. Do as you wish."

His relief was audible. "I knew you would be reasonable."

The moment his footsteps faded, I let the gown fall from my hands, a heap of silk and shattered hopes on the floor.

"Miss Blakely!" cried Lily Green, my maid. "You labored on that for six years. How can you cast it aside so?"

Six years. I had begun stitching it the day we became engaged.

Every bead, every embroidered blossom had been placed with a prayer, only to be picked out and reworked season after season, as the date was pushed further into the future.

I had dreamed of wearing it, of finally standing beside Theodore. After all, I had known him first.

I was only seven. My father was a minor baronet, his income strained keeping up appearances and funding Eleanor's costly tonics.

For months, I had longed for a simple gold hairpin. Finally, on the Harvest Festival, he bought me one.

Eleanor saw it. She burst into tears and wanted the hairpin. She was always frail, her every whim a command. Anything she desired, I was expected to surrender.

But I had waited for that hairpin for so long. I clutched it to my chest, shaking my head, refusing to let go.

My parents tried everything to talk me into it, but I just wouldn't budge. I held onto that hairpin for dear life, refusing to let go.

When I remained stubborn, my mother's patience snapped. A sharp slap stung my cheek, and the hairpin was pried from my fingers and placed in Eleanor's waiting hands.

The pain wasn't in the slap. It was in the giving away.