Vincent shrugged. "I've been called worse."
Annette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Simply standing beside this man infuriated her to the bone. She truly had no idea how she would endure his presence until she learned what would eventually end his pathetic life.
Taking a deep breath, she feigned a smile. "Are—"
"I've been invited to a ball this weekend. You shall come with me," Vincent interrupted.
Annette's eyes widened in shock. "What?!"
"You heard me correctly. I'll have Miss Grace accompany you to the seamstress for a dress. We need you looking like the diamond of the season."
"What the fuck?" Annette whispered, still trying to wrap her head around his words.
Vincent arched a brow. "Cursing is very unladylike, Daphne. It doesn't suit you."
She shot him a glare. "I enjoy doing unladylike things. I don't care if it displeases you, my lord," she added mockingly.
His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have before he looked away. "That savage tongue of yours is going to land you in serious trouble, Daphne. You should be very careful how you speak to me."
Clenching her jaw, Annette swallowed her response. The warning in his voice did not go unnoticed. She knew he meant every word, and she knew better than to push her limits.
"What about the ball?" she asked carefully. "Miss Elizabeth is your bride-to-be. Aren't you supposed to attend with her?"
The Viscount paused before replying. "The lady is my concern. Yours is to do as I say."
Annette swallowed again. "Yes, my lord."
"The housekeeper should be along shortly. I'll take my leave." He was already walking away before the final word left his mouth.
She groaned loudly, running her fingers through her hair. Frustration simmered beneath her skin. Annette had meant to send a message to her uncle—update him on everything—but she couldn't. She still hadn't gained good enough access of the mansion's perimeter.
She trusted no one, and that was the problem. She felt like prey in open woods, surrounded by unsuspecting predators. She needed to form allies as soon as possible.
The deeper she was pushed into noble society, the harder it would be to disappear once her mission was complete.
Things were becoming far more complicated than she had imagined. Moments like this made her long for her aunt's words, the woman always knew exactly what to say.
Shortly after, the housekeeper arrived, just as uptight as she had been during their first meeting. Together, they made their way to the front gate and into the carriage.
The ride was unbearably uncomfortable, with the housekeeper staring at her the entire way.
Annette could swear Vincent had placed a curse on his staff. Gods, they were all unsettling.
Thankfully, the journey came to an end, and they climbed down from the carriage, Annette trailing behind as they walked toward the seamstress's shop.
The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by three round, elderly women whose eyes lit up at the sight of them, wide smiles breaking across their faces.
"Oh dear! Welcome, Grace. It has been a while," one of the women said, pulling the housekeeper into a light hug while another kissed her cheeks.
"Thank you, Tali, Penny, and Estelle," Grace replied with a smile.
So this woman could smile. Shocking, Annette thought.
Grace turned to her. "This is Daphne. She's from the Viscount."
"My name is Annette, not Daphne," she corrected calmly.
The three women exchanged a look, silently communicating with one another.
"Welcome, Daphne. It's our pleasure to have you visit our shop," Penny said warmly.
"I'm Annette, not—"
"Come, sit, Miss Daphne," Tali interrupted, gesturing toward the blue couch beside them. "Would you like some tea? Biscuits?"
What in the hell? Was her voice inaudible, or were they deliberately ignoring her?
Clenching her teeth, Annette tried again. "I am Annette, not Daphne. I shall only respond to my name."
The women blinked, then turned in unison toward the housekeeper, whose lips were pressed into a thin line. "Is that truly her name?"
"Yes," Grace replied.
"Oh, alright. Please sit, Miss Annette," Tali said, still pointing toward the couch.
Annette offered a polite, fake smile before settling onto the stiff couch. The next hour passed in a blur as the women selected fabrics, colors, and designs for her dresses, never once asking for her opinion.
She remained composed, uninterested in whatever they were fussing over. Eventually, overwhelmed by boredom, she called out to the housekeeper.
"I would like to go for a walk. I'm feeling slightly suffocated in here."
Four pairs of eyes turned toward her.
"You don't know your way around. I cannot—"
"I'm not a child, Miss Grace. I can find my way back well enough," Annette cut in coldly.
The woman narrowed her eyes, considering her words. "Very well. You may go."
Annette smiled. "Thank you."
She stepped out of the shop and inhaled the fresh air. The sky was overcast, heavy with clouds, as if rain threatened to fall at any moment. Annette despised getting wet, so she made a mental note to return before it started raining.
Several kiosks lined the street, and she took her time browsing their wares. There were few people around mostly women and children.
Her gaze lingered on a woman walking with her two daughters, a thick lump forming in her throat. No matter where she looked, something always reminded her of her parents. She often wondered how different her life would have been if they were still alive.
The familiar ache reignited her blazing hatred for the Viscount.
Forcing herself to look away, her eyes landed on a narrow alleyway tucked between buildings. At first, nothing seemed out of place. Then she saw it.
Even in the darkness swallowing the alley, she could make out two men cornering a young woman. She was pressed against the wall, a knife held to her throat while the other man rummaged through her purse.
Annette's fists clenched in fury.
The next moment, she was already shouting as she sprinted down the road toward the alley.