Word of the designer's arrival traveled fast. From down the hallway, Celina overheard the maids whispering about how Lady Amelia's new gowns had arrived.
Her face darkened instantly.
Without a word, she stormed off to find her mother.
"Mama," Celina hissed as she burst into Lady Geneva's sitting room. "She's getting new dresses. The court designer is in her room right now!"
Lady Geneva's expression turned cold. "How dare that girl… We'll handle this."
The two of them swept down the corridor, ignoring the startled looks of the servants. The sound of light laughter and fabric being rustled inside Amelia's chambers only fueled Celina's fury.
Geneva flung open the door without knocking.
Inside, Anna — seated elegantly in a velvet chair — looked up, eyes calm and unreadable. The designer and her assistants stiffened at the intrusion, but no one dared speak.
Celina plastered on a sweet smile and glided toward Amelia. "Oh, Amelia, dear… how lovely. I thought you might need help choosing. After all, it's such a big day. It would be terrible if you picked something… unsuitable."
Without waiting for permission, she snatched a modest, pale cream gown from the rack and held it up.
"This one," Celina declared. "Simple. Elegant. It suits you."
Anna glanced at the dress, its plain fabric and dull embroidery practically an insult next to the rich velvets and shimmering silks laid out.
She smiled — but it wasn't a kind one.
"Ah," Anna murmured, taking her time. "I see you still have that old-fashioned taste, Celina. It must run in your nature."
Celina's smile froze.
Anna rose from her seat and gestured at the gown dismissively. "This isn't worth wearing to my engagement ceremony. That's a special day — and I need something that reflects it."
She turned to the designer, her tone firm but pleasant. "Don't you think, Madame? This… isn't quite right."
The designer, reading the room and catching the glint in Amelia's eyes, nodded quickly. "You're correct, Milady. These options fall short of what's proper for such an occasion. I'll have new gowns sent from the royal atelier first thing tomorrow."
"Good," Anna said smoothly, glancing back at Celina with a raised brow. "I wouldn't want to embarrass the family."
Celina gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening on the dress's fabric.
Geneva forced a tight smile. "Well… we only came to check on you. We'll leave you to your fitting."
"Thank you," Anna replied sweetly, watching them turn and sweep out of the room.
As the door closed behind them, Anna exhaled softly, a wicked little grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
In the study of Harrowind Manor, Viscount Harrowind sat by the fireplace, a ledger open before him, though his eyes barely skimmed the words. The knock at the door drew his attention.
"Enter."
His loyal butler, Mervin, stepped in with a respectful bow. "My lord."
"Well? How is she?"
Mervin clasped his hands behind his back. "Lady Amelia seems to be in good spirits, my lord. She's attending her lessons and fittings as expected."
The Viscount grunted. "No trouble?"
"None worth mentioning, my lord. She often visits the kitchen and the laundry rooms, but," Mervin added with a faint, knowing smile, "that was always her habit. The maids say she listens to their chatter, but she's done that since she was a child. I believe there's nothing to be concerned about."
The Viscount nodded, his suspicions momentarily eased. "Very well. Let her be for now. As long as she doesn't bring disgrace before the Duke arrives, I care little where she lingers."
"Yes, my lord."
Mervin bowed again and quietly left.
Back in her room, Anna — in Amelia's delicate body — sat by the window, pretending to flip through a book while her thoughts ran restless.
They're watching me.
She could feel it in the way the maids lingered too long, how the guards' eyes followed her when she passed. Even Grace, though kind, seemed cautious, as if unsure whether Amelia's sudden spark of boldness was to be trusted.
Anna smirked faintly to herself.
They think I'm stupid enough to give myself away. That's fine. I'll let them think that for a while longer.
She'd made a habit of slipping into the kitchens and laundry rooms, acting as though nothing had changed. There, between idle gossip about noble scandals and the next market delivery, she picked up what truly mattered.
The servants know everything. Always.
And so far, she'd learned plenty — including how precarious the Viscount's finances were, the urgency behind this marriage deal, and which maids were loyal to Geneva and Celina.
Anna leaned her head back against the chair and grinned to herself.
The kitchen of Harrowind Manor was always busiest in the late afternoon, when preparations for dinner began. The scent of baking bread and stewed meats hung in the air, and the clatter of pots and soft hum of conversation filled the space.
Anna, in Amelia's pale skin and delicate frame, made her way to a corner under the pretense of checking on the evening tea. The maids barely glanced her way — Amelia was no stranger here.
She picked up a small cup of water and leaned casually against the counter, listening.
Two kitchen maids and a scullery boy huddled near the pantry, speaking in hushed voices. One of the maids, a plump girl named Miriam, shook her head, wide-eyed.
"I swear on my life, I heard it from a footman at the palace," Miriam whispered. "They say the Duke's family's cursed. That the old Duke murdered his wife with his own hands."
The other maid gasped. "Saints preserve us… and they still let that man's son carry the Blackmoor name?"
"Aye," said the boy, a mop in hand. "They say Duke Dorian's worse. Keeps to that old, haunted estate, barely seen in public. Men say he speaks to no one. Not even his advisor. And those eyes of his — they say when you see them, it's like death looking straight at you."
The first maid shuddered. "I'd sooner throw myself in the river than be promised to him. No wonder Lady Celina's been so sour — she wanted to be the one, but the Viscount gave Lady Amelia's hand instead."
Anna's fingers tightened around the cup.
So that's the monster I'm engaged to.
Miriam went on, lowering her voice even more. "I heard the Blackmoors hold more power than the royal family. That's why the king's so desperate to tie them to the crown. If anyone could stand against the throne, it'd be them."
"I wouldn't want to marry into a family of murderers, no matter how rich," the other maid muttered.
Anna let the conversation drift as she quietly made her way out of the kitchen, a grim smile tugging at her lips.
So you're the scariest man in the kingdom, Duke Blackmoor… good. Let's see if you can scare me.
Word of the designer's arrival traveled fast. From down the hallway, Celina overheard the maids whispering about how Lady Amelia's new gowns had arrived.
Her face darkened instantly.
Without a word, she stormed off to find her mother.
"Mama," Celina hissed as she burst into Lady Geneva's sitting room. "She's getting new dresses. The court designer is in her room right now!"
Lady Geneva's expression turned cold. "How dare that girl… We'll handle this."
The two of them swept down the corridor, ignoring the startled looks of the servants. The sound of light laughter and fabric being rustled inside Amelia's chambers only fueled Celina's fury.
Geneva flung open the door without knocking.
Inside, Anna — seated elegantly in a velvet chair — looked up, eyes calm and unreadable. The designer and her assistants stiffened at the intrusion, but no one dared speak.
Celina plastered on a sweet smile and glided toward Amelia. "Oh, Amelia, dear… how lovely. I thought you might need help choosing. After all, it's such a big day. It would be terrible if you picked something… unsuitable."
Without waiting for permission, she snatched a modest, pale cream gown from the rack and held it up.
"This one," Celina declared. "Simple. Elegant. It suits you."
Anna glanced at the dress, its plain fabric and dull embroidery practically an insult next to the rich velvets and shimmering silks laid out.
She smiled — but it wasn't a kind one.
"Ah," Anna murmured, taking her time. "I see you still have that old-fashioned taste, Celina. It must run in your nature."
Celina's smile froze.
Anna rose from her seat and gestured at the gown dismissively. "This isn't worth wearing to my engagement ceremony. That's a special day — and I need something that reflects it."
She turned to the designer, her tone firm but pleasant. "Don't you think, Madame? This… isn't quite right."
The designer, reading the room and catching the glint in Amelia's eyes, nodded quickly. "You're correct, Milady. These options fall short of what's proper for such an occasion. I'll have new gowns sent from the royal atelier first thing tomorrow."
"Good," Anna said smoothly, glancing back at Celina with a raised brow. "I wouldn't want to embarrass the family."
Celina gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening on the dress's fabric.
Geneva forced a tight smile. "Well… we only came to check on you. We'll leave you to your fitting."
"Thank you," Anna replied sweetly, watching them turn and sweep out of the room.
As the door closed behind them, Anna exhaled softly, a wicked little grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
In the study of Harrowind Manor, Viscount Harrowind sat by the fireplace, a ledger open before him, though his eyes barely skimmed the words. The knock at the door drew his attention.
"Enter."
His loyal butler, Mervin, stepped in with a respectful bow. "My lord."
"Well? How is she?"
Mervin clasped his hands behind his back. "Lady Amelia seems to be in good spirits, my lord. She's attending her lessons and fittings as expected."
The Viscount grunted. "No trouble?"
"None worth mentioning, my lord. She often visits the kitchen and the laundry rooms, but," Mervin added with a faint, knowing smile, "that was always her habit. The maids say she listens to their chatter, but she's done that since she was a child. I believe there's nothing to be concerned about."
The Viscount nodded, his suspicions momentarily eased. "Very well. Let her be for now. As long as she doesn't bring disgrace before the Duke arrives, I care little where she lingers."
"Yes, my lord."
Mervin bowed again and quietly left.
Back in her room, Anna — in Amelia's delicate body — sat by the window, pretending to flip through a book while her thoughts ran restless.
They're watching me.
She could feel it in the way the maids lingered too long, how the guards' eyes followed her when she passed. Even Grace, though kind, seemed cautious, as if unsure whether Amelia's sudden spark of boldness was to be trusted.
Anna smirked faintly to herself.
They think I'm stupid enough to give myself away. That's fine. I'll let them think that for a while longer.
She'd made a habit of slipping into the kitchens and laundry rooms, acting as though nothing had changed. There, between idle gossip about noble scandals and the next market delivery, she picked up what truly mattered.
The servants know everything. Always.
And so far, she'd learned plenty — including how precarious the Viscount's finances were, the urgency behind this marriage deal, and which maids were loyal to Geneva and Celina.
Anna leaned her head back against the chair and grinned to herself.
The kitchen of Harrowind Manor was always busiest in the late afternoon, when preparations for dinner began. The scent of baking bread and stewed meats hung in the air, and the clatter of pots and soft hum of conversation filled the space.
Anna, in Amelia's pale skin and delicate frame, made her way to a corner under the pretense of checking on the evening tea. The maids barely glanced her way — Amelia was no stranger here.
She picked up a small cup of water and leaned casually against the counter, listening.
Two kitchen maids and a scullery boy huddled near the pantry, speaking in hushed voices. One of the maids, a plump girl named Miriam, shook her head, wide-eyed.
"I swear on my life, I heard it from a footman at the palace," Miriam whispered. "They say the Duke's family's cursed. That the old Duke murdered his wife with his own hands."
The other maid gasped. "Saints preserve us… and they still let that man's son carry the Blackmoor name?"
"Aye," said the boy, a mop in hand. "They say Duke Dorian's worse. Keeps to that old, haunted estate, barely seen in public. Men say he speaks to no one. Not even his advisor. And those eyes of his — they say when you see them, it's like death looking straight at you."
The first maid shuddered. "I'd sooner throw myself in the river than be promised to him. No wonder Lady Celina's been so sour — she wanted to be the one, but the Viscount gave Lady Amelia's hand instead."
Anna's fingers tightened around the cup.
So that's the monster I'm engaged to.
Miriam went on, lowering her voice even more. "I heard the Blackmoors hold more power than the royal family. That's why the king's so desperate to tie them to the crown. If anyone could stand against the throne, it'd be them."
"I wouldn't want to marry into a family of murderers, no matter how rich," the other maid muttered.
Anna let the conversation drift as she quietly made her way out of the kitchen, a grim smile tugging at her lips.
So you're the scariest man in the kingdom, Duke Blackmoor… good. Let's see if you can scare me.