Her mind raced as she pushed herself up, the unfamiliar weight of the gown shifting around her body. She looked down in alarm, her breath catching in her throat. This wasn't her body. Her hands were pale and delicate, not calloused from years of work. Her nails were perfectly manicured, her wrists adorned with fine jewelry.
Panic surged. She scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the voluminous fabric of the gown that clung to her frame. There was a mirror-an enormous gilded thing-just across the room. With trembling steps, she approached it, dreading what she might see.
The reflection was not hers.
A stranger stared back. Her hair, once short and practical, now flowed in thick, dark waves down her back. Her eyes, once brown, were a deep blue, framed by long lashes. The face was exquisite-noble, graceful, but entirely unfamiliar.
She backed away, her heart pounding in her chest. This had to be a dream-a nightmare. She closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up. But when she opened them, the room, the body, the alien world around her remained.
Before she could make sense of it, the door swung open with a loud creak. A woman, dressed in maid's attire, curtsied deeply. "My lady Eleanor, you're awake at last."
Eleanor? Her mind stumbled over the name, but she didn't have time to react.
"The physician said you needed rest, but the Duke insists on seeing you at once," the maid continued, glancing nervously at the door. "He's been worried sick after your fall."
Fall? Duke?
"I... I don't-" Her voice faltered, sounding strange and too soft to her own ears.
The maid frowned but quickly masked her concern. "Would you like me to help you dress, my lady?"
Still disoriented, she nodded. The maid guided her to a vanity, where she sat in stunned silence. The girl's hands moved deftly, pulling pins from her hair and replacing them with practiced ease.
As she dressed, her mind raced. She needed answers. Somehow, someway, she had been thrown into someone else's life. Lady Eleanor's life. But how? Why?
The heavy door opened again, this time admitting a tall, imposing figure-a man draped in fine clothing, his face lined with worry. His dark eyes scanned her intently, and though she had never seen him before, there was something fierce and possessive in his gaze.
"Eleanor," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You frightened me."
She swallowed, trying to keep her composure. Who was this man? The Duke? Her husband? Her heart raced as she struggled to make sense of it all.
He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Are you feeling well? The doctor said the fall left no lasting injury, but you've been acting... strange."
Strange. Of course, she was acting strange. She wasn't Eleanor. She wasn't whoever they thought she was.
"I'm fine," she managed to say, her voice steadier than she felt. "Just... tired."
The Duke watched her for a long moment, suspicion flickering behind his eyes before he nodded. "Rest, then. But we will talk later. The council is expecting an answer to the proposal."
Proposal? She had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded weakly. The Duke gave her one last look before leaving the room, his presence as overwhelming as the reality she now faced.
Once the door closed, she released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Trapped in the body of a noblewoman, entangled in a world of politics and intrigue, she had no idea how she had ended up here-or how she would return home. But one thing was clear: she had to play Eleanor's role, at least for now.
And somewhere, somehow, she would find a way back.