Chapter 3

On the Harvest festival, the Chancellor's wife held a grand party at their country estate, and invitations graced every noble household.

I didn't want to go, but my mother insisted on dragging me along.

"Eleanor is so delicate," she fretted, "I cannot manage her alone at such a large gathering. You must come, Blakely. It is your duty to assist."

Perhaps it was the impending distance, but for once, I found the nerve to answer back. "If she is so unwell, why not simply remain at home?"

At this, Eleanor began to weep. "I know you find me a disgrace, Blakely. But a divorced woman has few refuges but her family home. Would you truly have me cast myself into the river?"

I scoffed. "You seem well enough for poetry salons and promenades by the lake. In truth, you look in better health than I. Why must I—"

Theodore's slap cut my words short.

The sound was sharp and clear, leaving a bright red handprint on my left cheek.

I stumbled back, grabbing onto the table for support, and tears welled up in my eyes from the pain.

Through their blur, I saw his fury, though his voice remained dangerously calm. "Blakely, are you attempting to hound your own sister to her grave?"

"Beginning the day after tomorrow," he continued, "a teacher will come to instruct you in proper decorum and correct your disposition.

"Only when you have learned to conduct yourself shall we revisit the matter of your marriage."

My fingers clenched the wood until they ached. Who was truly the one applying the pressure here?

The next day, I arrived at the Chancellor's estate with one cheek still tender and faintly swollen.

I found a secluded alcove and settled into it, observing the other ladies as they clustered in charming groups, their laughter light and conversation flowing.

Occasionally, one would glance my way, note my wretched isolation, and make a tentative move to approach, only to be subtly drawn back by her companions.

"Pay her no mind," a hushed voice carried. "That is Blakely, the one whose betrothal has been postponed thrice. Twenty-two and still unwed."

"Keep your distance from such ill fortune," another murmured. "Misfortune clings. You would not wish it upon your own prospects."

"She has a gentle face, but what lies beneath? Why else would Mr. Crane delay again and again?" a third speculated.

"She lacks all shame," another said with a dismissive flick of her fan. "Were I in her position, I would take the veil and spare the world my spectacle."

I took a slow, deliberate sip of tea. I had heard crueler.

I told myself their words were nothing, mere air, yet my eyes still prickled hot, and a familiar ache tightened in my chest.

Each whispered barb was a pinprick to my pride, leaving it tattered and sore.

I heard every word, but all I could do was play dumb and act like I didn't.

I wanted so badly to find a place to cry my heart out, but all I could do was keep up a fake smile and pretend I hadn't heard a thing, just to hold onto the last bit of pride I had.

The day before my departure for Serenity Abbey, I gathered every gift Theodore had ever given me. They filled but a small trunk.

The realization was a cold shock: he had given me so little. In earlier years, there were trinkets, but of late, presents arrived only as peace offerings after our quarrels.

They grew more lavish, yet felt increasingly hollow. His heart had long since drifted to Eleanor's side. I was the fool, clinging to a phantom.

Clutching the trunk, I went to the Crane estate. As I neared the library, I overheard him in conversation with William Wells, the Undersecretary of the Treasury.

"Theodore, do you truly intend to sever the engagement?" William asked.

My heart stilled. My knuckles turned white where they gripped the trunk. I scarcely breathed, awaiting his reply.

After a ponderous silence, Theodore's voice, cool and clear, answered. "A severance is not the aim, merely a strategic pause.

"Victor Sage owes our family a debt, but the man is an eccentric. He will only treat a member of the Crane family. The only way for Eleanor to receive his care is to become my wife."

"And Blakely?" William pressed. "Are you not concerned she will make a scene? She has waited six years for you. Do you imagine she will meekly step aside?"

Theodore gave a soft, dismissive chuckle. "It is of little consequence. A few pretty words will soothe her.

"Once Eleanor is securely wed as my lawful wife, I shall take Blakely as my legal companion. She will manage the household with all the honors of the first wife. In practice, there will be no distinction."

No distinction? What arrant nonsense.

A "legal companion", a prettified term for a mistress, a permanent second. How dare he assume I would accept such a diminished station?

A bitter laugh threatened to escape me. A torrent of rage, sorrow, and humiliation churning within.

At that moment, I was beyond grateful I'd insisted my grandmother submit my name to the royal court. If I hadn't, I wouldn't even know how to hold my head up today.

Regency Era law made it clear: a mistress could never attain the status of wife. He planned to keep me forever subordinate, perpetually less than.

I shut my eyes tightly, forcing back the tears, and stumbled away, feeling scraped hollow. Without delay, I sold every last item Theodore had ever given me. Those priceless treasures fetched a considerable sum.

Let it serve as recompense for six years of wasted devotion.