Chapter 2

Maggie leaned in, her eyes wide with shock. "Amelia, how do you know Lord Hayes? He looked like he really cared about you just now."

I was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "I used to be Alexander's concubine. The one who got kicked out for being 'crazy' and sent to a nunnery."

Maggie nearly dropped her teacup.

That winter, when I was ten, it snowed for three days and three nights straight.

My father took me out to buy Christmas supplies. Even wrapped in a thick cloak, I couldn't stop shivering.

As we turned a corner, we came upon a crowd gathered on the street, murmuring and pointing.

"Is the boy still breathing?" someone asked. "He's been lying there since yesterday. No one has dared to move him."

Curious, I slipped through the onlookers to see.

A youth lay curled in the snow, his clothes stained with blood, his face deathly pale. That was Alexander, then just fourteen.

I tugged at my father's sleeve. "Papa, please, we must help him."

Seeing the plea in my eyes, my father sighed. "Very well. We shall perform a good deed this day."

We brought Alexander back to our home and summoned an apothecary to tend his wounds.

The man declared the injuries were not grave, and with rest, the boy would recover.

The first thing Alexander did upon opening his eyes was clutch my father's arm, his voice trembling with desperation. "My sister... I beg you, save my sister..."

He wept uncontrollably, and though his body was weak, he tried to rise from the bed to beg us.

Later, we learned Alexander's parents had died of fever years before.

He had been left alone to care for his younger sister, Emily, who was thirteen.

But Emily was fair of face, and the local magistrate, a cruel and covetous man named Lord Blackwood, had taken a liking to her. She was seized from their home and forced into his household.

When Alexander went to confront the magistrate and demand her return, he was beaten savagely and left for dead in the street.

His plight moved me deeply, and I begged my father to help rescue his sister.

My father could not refuse me. He gathered a substantial sum of money and went to Lord Blackwood's estate, hoping to buy the girl's freedom.

But by the time he arrived, it was too late. Emily had already taken her own life. All we could do was bring her body home.

My parents arranged a simple, respectful burial for her in our family plot.

Alexander knelt before the wooden cross marking her grave, his tears spent, his eyes hollow.

"It is my fault," he choked out. "I failed to protect her. If I had wealth, if I had standing... she would still be alive. She would never have suffered such indignity."

He was gaunt, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails broke the skin of his palms.

My mother's heart went out to him, and she insisted he stay with us.

My father, recognizing a keen and hungry mind, took Alexander under his wing. The boy forgot nothing he read. My father invested all he could in his education.

Our family was merchants, comfortable from generations of trade, but funding a scholar's pursuit was a different matter entirely.

My father sold the finest silks and porcelain from our warehouse, trading them for crate after crate of books.

My mother scrimped and saved, even pawning her own mother's jewels, to hire the best tutors from the city.

Alexander rose before dawn to study and was still bent over his texts by candlelight long past midnight.

He once said, "My foster parents have shown me more kindness than I deserve. If I do not distinguish myself, how shall I ever repay their goodness?"

"Amelia," he promised me, his voice earnest, "when I have earned my place, I will marry you properly, before the world."

He did not make me wait long. At fifteen, he earned his first scholarly honors. At sixteen, he passed the provincial examinations with the highest distinction.

At seventeen, he achieved the rank of First Scholar in the royal examinations, praised by the king's own ministers.

He returned to our home on a spirited horse, his eyes shining. "Amelia, I can marry you now."

He whispered in my ear, "You are the only wife I shall ever take. I swear it."

I smiled and embraced him, counting the days until I became his bride.

But at the royal party, Lady Charlotte Rivers, the only daughter of the powerful Lord High Chancellor Richard Rivers, set her cap for him.

Lord Rivers himself came to our door, all polished courtesy. "First Scholar, a match with my daughter would see your career flourish. The path to a dukedom would be all but assured."

Alexander knelt, his voice steady and respectful. "My lord, you honor me. But I am already promised. I cannot break my vow."

Lord Rivers's smile cooled. "How commendably principled. But consider this, young man: with a word, I could see the Summers family erased from Kingston. Their name forgotten, their trade vanished."

We all knew it was no idle threat. To a man like Lord Rivers, our merchant family was less than a gnat.

I wept through the night. At dawn, I went to Alexander's chamber. "Alexander, you must marry her. I will not be the chain that holds you back. I will not see my parents brought to ruin."

Alexander pulled me into his arms, his own eyes red-rimmed. "I will marry no one else. I would rather die."

The next day, he went to the Chancellor's mansion. There, he drew a dagger and held it to his own throat. "If this is the price, I will pay it here. I, Alexander Hayes, will take only Amelia Summers to wife."

A thin line of blood traced down his neck.

Charlotte, witnessing this, cried out in horror, begging her father. "Papa, stop! I do not wish it. I do not want a husband who would rather die than have me."

Lord Rivers left in a fury, but he finally offered one final concession. Alexander could marry me, but only as his second wife, his mistress. Charlotte would be his lawful wife, his Lady.

Otherwise, even if Alexander took his own life, the Rivers family would see the House of Summers utterly destroyed.