Chapter 73
My residence in Valmoria was by no means grand, not when compared to the Vaneeri or Lorynthall estates, yet it was not a humble dwelling either. It stood with two sturdy floors, boasting four lavish bedchambers, a kitchen of respectable size, and separate quarters for male and female servants. A yard of reasonable breadth stretched behind it, accompanied by a stable fit for four horses. The property was even encased by sturdy gates.
Butler Fin, along with two maids and two additional servants, managed the residence with commendable efficiency. And yet, in the days that had passed since that encounter, I found no solace within these walls. My bruised heart refused to grant me a moment's peace.
I sat upon the patio, my fingers wrapped around a teacup, though I hardly tasted its contents. The summer breeze toyed with strands of my hair, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked cookies that lay untouched upon the table before me. My gaze drifted to the yard, where Kyle stood hacking away at firewood. A young servant loitered nervously nearby, looking as if he would be dismissed from my service.
I sighed, casting away my own misery.
"Kyle," I called, "you need not concern yourself with chopping wood any longer."
He did not so much as pause, merely offering me a glance before returning to his assault upon the logs. "Ain't much else to do, my love."
"You could take an outing," I suggested. "Perhaps a ride on horseback?"
Kyle ceased his work entirely, turning to face me with a look of genuine bewilderment. "Yer tellin' me to get up on a horse and just ride? For what?"
For a fleeting moment, the image of Millicent behind me on horseback materialized in my mind. The memory wrapped itself around my chest, the weight of it unbearable.
"It is not as dull as you make it sound," I murmured, my fingers tightening around the teacup.
"Y-yes, Master Kyle," the young servant interjected nervously. "I believe horse riding would be a splendid idea indeed."
Butler Fin approached with all the grace of a man who had perfected the art of quiet servitude. He carried with him a silver tray, atop which sat a neat stack of envelopes.
"Your Ladyship, several letters have arrived for you," he announced.
My hand stilled in its journey to bring the teacup to my lips. My gaze landed upon the topmost envelope, my breath catching as I recognized the unmistakable seal. The Vaneeri crest.
A peculiar sensation took root within me. Without thinking, I placed my tea upon the table too hastily, as droplets of the amber liquid splashed onto the tablecloth, and reached for the envelope.
I nearly sent the entire tray tumbling from Butler Fin's grasp in my urgency. My fingers tore through the seal, my pulse a frenzied rhythm.
The sender was not the one I had so foolishly hoped for.
Annette Vaneeri.
"To Marchioness Florence Lorynthall,
I should like to invite you to tea at my private estate to personally congratulate you on your inheritance. Please meet me at noon tomorrow. I shall send a carriage befitting your noble status."
How generous.
A sneer curled my lips as I lowered the letter. Meet her? For what purpose? To allow her a second opportunity to rid the world of me? Perhaps this time she would succeed. She was undoubtedly rattled, now that I still drew breath and, worse for her, bore a title.
And the tone of the letter, was this meant to be an invitation? How abominably transparent. It read more as an order.
I crushed the letter, feeling the fine fibers of the parchment crumple beneath my grip.
What, I wondered, would Millicent do to her mother upon learning the truth? I had pondered this question far more than I should have. According to the laws of Ivoryspire, Annette would most certainly find herself imprisoned for her crimes of kidnapping me, murdering Dr. Barly and those two unfortunate guards, and endangering Vincent… There was no doubt of her guilt.
For days, I had entertained the thought of telling Millicent. But what purpose would it serve to tell Millicent of Annette's crimes now? What would change?
Nothing.
The past was irreversibly severed. I was married now.
I pressed my eyes shut, inhaling deeply. I was married now.
"Your Ladyship, what would you have me do with the rest?" Butler Fin inquired.
I eyed the stack of letters with mild contempt. Undoubtedly, they were invitations from nobles, all eager to sip tea and exchange pleasantries, each with their own ulterior motives. Desperate, grasping creatures, seeking favor where it was neither desired nor given. This was precisely why I detested them.
"Set them upon the table."
Butler Fin inclined his head, did as I bid, and withdrew in graceful silence.
Kyle strode towards me. From the corner of my eye, I noted the young servant exhale in sheer relief before eagerly reclaiming the axe and resuming the task himself.
"I ain't never seen so many letters in one place!" Kyle declared, eyes alight with curiosity as he perched across from me.
Without so much as a glance, I plucked a random envelope from the pile and tore it open, my gaze skimming over its contents before flicking up briefly to Kyle, who watched me with barely contained anticipation. I ignored him and finished reading before hanging him the letter.
"For me?" He looked positively delighted as he took it. "What's it say?"
"It is an invitation from Baron Bloomer," I replied flatly. "He requests the honor of your presence on a hunting excursion."
Kyle sat up straighter, gripping the letter as though it were some treasured artifact. "Really?"
"I assume you wish to attend?"
"Well, yes, I do!"
I did not dignify his enthusiasm with a response, instead reaching for the next letter. My eyes skimmed over the words before I announced, "This one is an invitation for us both. Viscount Wick's daughter is to celebrate her seventeenth birthday next week."
"A birthday party?"
"We are not going," I said crisply, tossing the letter aside in an act of unmasked disinterest. Without pause, I reached for the next envelope, only for Kyle to swiftly snatch up the discarded invitation.
"Why not?" he asked, inspecting it. "I reckon it'd be somethin' to see, how nobles throw a birthday. Can we go?" His expression was nothing short of eager.
And so, having sworn to be a decent wife, that wretched day arrived, and against my every inclination, I accompanied him.