pensive silks rustling with every slight movement. Their smiles were wide and false, their eyes sharp and predatory. These were the same women who had

asking after her fever, praising her color, marveling at he

. "He studies so hard his health is failing. If only he had a true mentor to guide him.

uch a golden opportunity arises, you surely wouldn't forget your own cousins, would you? Cecil a

to mock her, the loudest to applaud her misfortunes. She remembered Lady Lavinia's tittering laugh when Rosalind had humiliated her in front of guests. She reme

er lap, the picture of helplessness. "The favor from my adoptive father is a singular

on their

"You gave a place at Stonehaven to a bastard? How can you

is a mistake. Tristan is nothing. A shameful secret, at best. Cecil and the other boys-they are your bl

r eyes were hard. She watched the two of them trade glances, watched them

"I have already given my word to Mrs. Hayes. I cann

where to go. They could not openly challenge Lord Beaumont. To do so would be to r

k that passed between them was not defeat-it was a recalculation. They would not win this battle. But t

were so tight they barely qualified as smiles at all. "We shal

wed. "Of course, aunts. Thank

ed them-she had planted a seed of resentment between them and Eleanor. From now on, the aunts would see Eleanor as the

open. Rosalind stormed in, her face flushed with anger, the diamond

she shrieked. Her eyes were wild with indignation. This was not spontaneous outrag

er head. She met Rosalind's fury with a stil

and cool. "Our father approved this

ossing her face. But her hatred was stronger t

t whore to secure your own position in this house! You think I don't see what

at Rosalind before. Not in this life, and not in the last. It was

oft, but it carried a quiet authority that filled the room. "Unlike some, who d

something else entirely. "Do you truly care about the family's honor, Rosalind? Or are you simpl

. She had hit the deepest, most secret insecurity in Rosalind's heart-the fear that she was not special, not

Exposed and enraged, she swung her hand,

five years of silent servitude, five years of carrying heavy things and enduring

urprise. She tried to pull back,

nothing. No pity. No guilt. Just a vast, calm emptiness. She had already died once, burned alive for people just like this. A slap

s flick, and her sister stumbled backward, cradl

mple dress. "If that is all," she said di

dy of the house-the tone she had never us

f fury. "You'll pay for this! Mot

e did not rise. "I know where your

lamming the door behind her with a c

s did not shake. She listened to the fading sound of her sister's footste

was read