Chapter 2

As soon as my maid Hazel told me Edward was here to propose, I rushed straight to the front yard.

When I entered the main hall, Edward was already standing before my father, speaking confidently and at length. There was a self-satisfied air about him, the unmistakable pride of someone who believed victory was already in hand.

At a single glance, I knew. The man standing before me had returned from the future, just as I had. When his eyes met mine, the same violent hatred flared within them.

My father, unaware of what was truly going on, smiled when he saw me enter. "Margaret," he said warmly, "Prince Edward holds you in high regard. He has come today to formally ask for your hand in marriage—"

Before my father could finish, Edward cut in with a sneer. "My lord, you misunderstand," he said. "The woman I came to propose to today is not Lady Sinclair, but Lydia of your household."

"Margaret is cruel at heart," he added flatly. "She is unworthy of my affection."

The words landed like a slap. My mother slammed the cup in her hand onto the table, shattering the calm.

My father's face drained of color. He had once thought highly of Prince Edward. Though Edward was not favored by the king, my father had believed that among the princes, he alone possessed the mercy and compassion of a true ruler.

That belief had been the reason my father, in my previous life, was willing to stake the entire Sinclair family on Edward's rise to power.

Now, I knew that illusion had shattered.

The main hall fell into dead silence.

Edward, however, sensed nothing amiss. In his past life, he had stood above countless others for far too long. He had long forgotten how to read the room.

Seeing my parents remain silent, he frowned at my mother with clear displeasure. "It has been quite some time," he said coolly. "Why has Lydia not been summoned? Is this how the lady of the house manages her household?"

My mother was so furious her lips nearly twisted out of shape. In all her years, no one had ever dared criticize her to her face like this.

She had been born into a ducal family and raised as a noble lady of the highest rank. After marrying my father, she had been granted royal honors, and she was close friends with the queen herself.

Her standing at court far exceeded that of an unfavored prince like Edward. And yet he had just accused her of failing as lady of the household.

She let out a cold laugh. "You are quite right, Prince Edward," she said smoothly. "It seems I have indeed been lacking as the lady of this house."

"I must apologize for delaying your important business today. However, whether you may marry Lydia or not—" She paused, then turned her gaze toward me. "That will have to be decided by Margaret first."

"After all," she continued, voice sharp as a blade, "Lydia is a servant Margaret redeemed from a brothel."

My mother was right.

Lydia was the girl I had rescued from a brothel. After her parents died, she had been sold there by her heartless uncle.

While trying to escape, she ran straight into my carriage. I pitied her and paid to buy her freedom. Later, seeing that she was alone in the world with nowhere to go, I took her into my household.

I gave her only simple chores—sweeping floors and tending lamps. I had even planned to return her freedom papers once she found a decent husband.

Who could have imagined that she would grow so bold, daring to steal my identity? Worse still, her foolish lies would one day bring about the slaughter of my entire family—280 souls.

But in this life, I had no intention of playing the villain who tore lovers apart. On the contrary, I meant to see them through. After all, a scoundrel and a slut belonged together.

I lowered my eyes, hiding the hatred burning within them, and spoke gently. "Since Prince Edward favors Lydia, then so it shall be. As her mistress, I naturally give my consent."

"Hazel," I added calmly, "summon Lydia to the presence of Prince Edward."

Hazel accepted the order and left at once.