"I HAVEN'T TOLD YOU ABOUT THE TERMS OF THE DIVORCE," Matthew said in the carriage.

We hadn't spoken a word to each other during breakfast or when we bade goodbye to Mary and Archie. Until he uttered those words, my head was rested against the wall of my seat and my eyes were closed. I reluctantly opened them.

"It'll be in the contract right?"

"It will," he admitted. "But...I owe you an explanation in person."

A wave of anxiety washed over me. "How bad is it for me?"

"It's not awful. It's just that the only way I can dissolve your marriage and keep your family away from you is to leave you with virtually nothing."

I smiled bitterly. "Of course you do."

"It's only till you turn twenty-one. After that, you can manage your own finances without intervention," he said quickly.

"So, I'm assuming I can't keep Ludlow?"

"It'll be yours on your twenty-first birthday," Matthew said assuredly.

I closed my eyes again, overwhelmed by the unwelcome information. "Where am I supposed to live?" I asked quietly.

"I'll give you enough money for a small establishment somewhere in the country. You'll only have enough money for necessities but—"

"—It's fine," I cut off, not wanting him to finish. "As long as I'm not forced to live with my family, it's fine."

"Rose." His tone had a tender, mournful note that made me feel even worse. "I'll make sure you're taken care of."

"By my twenty-first birthday. You've said that."

"If you really need money, all you have to do is write. I won't have you suffer."

I would be damned if I wrote Matthew letters pleading for coin once we divorced. It would be just my luck to have Victoria fall upon the missives instead, laugh over my misfortune, and promptly burn them. "Alright," I answered tiredly. "Is that all?" Please be all, I thought.

"Yes."

We were silent the rest of the way to Ludlow. When we finally reached our destination, I found that I couldn't wait to get out.

"Goodbye Rose," Matthew said, his voice was tinged with sorrow. I spared him a forced smile before I exited the carriage and then walked away without a second glance.

🥀

The only thing Matthew wanted to do was drink. Unfortunately enough for him, it was midday and even the most disreputable establishments only opened their doors when the sun sank. He couldn't go home and nurse his thirst with his own spirits because his mistress was home. The thought of returning to her didn't make him sick anymore, it made him want to put a revolver to his head. If he returned home in his current mood, it would be a disaster. So, he waited patiently at the door of his favorite tavern until it was open, and welcomed the soothing bite of tall, golden cups. He returned to Whitfield mansion drunk beyond words at the ungodliest hour.

He felt Victoria stir slightly when he crashed into the bed. Self-loathing and pity were his last thoughts before he drifted to sleep.

He awoke to a dreadful pinch in the morning. "Wake up," Victoria hissed.

It felt like a needle was piercing his skull. "Get off!" Matthew yelled gruffly. If she weren't pregnant, he would've surely shoved her.

The thick scent of lavender clogged his nostrils. How had he ever loved it? "You came home drunk last night," Victoria said.

Matthew looked at the yellow peals of sunlight flooding the room with mounting irritation. Why was it sunny? It should be cloudy and gray. "How would you know? You were asleep."

"I heard the servants discussing it this morning. And you're still in bed with clothes from yesterday, shoes and all!" Victoria regarded him with pinched eyes. "Do you know that it's nearly noon?"

Matthew tried to balance himself and sit up on the bed, before a spell of dizziness forced him on his back again. "Is it?" he queried sarcastically.

"It is." Victoria pressed a concerned hand against her fiancée's forehead. "You've never gotten that drunk, Matthew. What happened?"

"Nothing," Matthew snapped. He really was in a foul mood, he thought lamely. It wouldn't do to encourage Victoria's hysterics. "Nothing that you should worry yourself about," he amended. "It's my mother."

"Grown men don't drink themselves to oblivion because of their mothers," Victoria replied shrewdly. "Something happened."

Wise girl, Matthew thought miserably. "Nothing happened," he repeated. "I had to endure a bothersome mother intent on keeping us apart."

"There is nothing she can do," Victoria said. "We'll be married whether she likes it or not. You know that. That's not why you were drinking."

Victoria's pursuit of the truth was striking Matthew's last tender nerve. "How many blasted times do I have to I repeat myself? It was nothing." His sharp, adamant response probably piqued her interest more, but he didn't care. All he wanted her to do was shut up. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get me something for my headache?"

"Matthew..." Victoria started but his bleary eyes must've successfully dissuaded her from finishing the sentence because she immediately faltered. "Fine."

Matthew stared up at the ceiling with equal part irritation and hopelessness. The drink that was supposed to soften his ugly disposition only seemed to have sharpened it. How was he going to survive this purgatory for years? Victoria returned moments later with a glass of water. "Mr. Crawford is here to see you," she said. The mention of the Crawford coursed a ripple of agony through Matthew's body.

"Send him away."

Victoria quirked a brow upwards. "That's the solicitor, isn't it? Why would you send him away?"

"Because I look and feel like horseshit."

That answer wasn't sufficient enough for his mistress. Awareness was already flooding in her face. "Oh, I see."

"No, Matthew said exasperatedly, you don't."

"No, I see very clearly. The same reason you're turning away the lawyer is the same reason you came home drunk."

Matthew finally took the initiative to stand up, ignoring how horrible he felt. "You're wrong."

"That woman and your mother must've succeeded in convincing you to keep the marriage. I assume that part of the package is abandoning me and your future child, correct?"

"No, Victoria, you've got it all wrong!" Matthew exclaimed.

"Then, tell me what's right! And don't say that nothing provoked your episode last night because I don't believe it!"

"The bit about last night is the truth!" Matthew yelled. His voice was creeping to impolite volumes.

"No, it's not!" Victoria shrieked. "And I can't believe you would do this knowing..."

"It's the opposite, Victoria!" Matthew yelled. "I'm marrying you. That is the cause of my distress, the bane of my very existence. It's you."

Victoria examined her husband with calculating eyes. "You know, I head an ugly rumor a while ago."

Matthew was beyond sparing his betrothed's feelings. "Did you?"

"It was about a man who ravished his wife in a spa house," she pronounced slowly. Her words were filled with venom. "I didn't believe it at the time, I couldn't. People like to talk, regardless of how plausible it is. But now, I really wonder if it's true."

"I've found that while rumors aren't completely accurate, they're not spun from fiction. They originate from truth," Matthew said evenly.

Victoria laughed, her chuckle crackling like ice. "Don't tell me you love her."

"Don't laugh like the suggestion is ridiculous."

Victoria smiled coldly. "But it is. It is ridiculous." She paused to stare at her husband as if he'd grown a second head. "You called her beastly and burned her lover's house down. The whole thing is...comical."

"I burned her lover's house down at your bequest," Matthew reminded her.

"I never told you to do that."

"You didn't have to. You needed some sort of retribution after she threatened your parents. Hence the false miscarriage."

"It wasn't false," Victoria objected, but her voice unusually bland. The pretense was over, Matthew realized. They were both laying their cards on the table.

"It was as false as fool's gold."

"But you believed it." Victoria was grinning like a witch now. It made Matthew's stomach turn.

"At the time, yes. I'd believe anything you said."

Victoria straightened. She looked assured and calm. "You will marry me, Matthew."

"Or you'll throw yourself off the balcony?"

"Not something so simple now, no. I'm your mistress who bears your unborn, unwanted child." Victoria stroked her stomach, and what should've been a motherly gesture looked downright vindictive. "I'll frame you for murder or keep you from your child. I don't know, but it'll be something horrible."

Matthew's headache grew worse. How had he not seen her for the person she was?" You're evil."

"No, you're infatuated. We suit Matthew, and we've suited each other just fine for years. This thing with Axel will pass and once our child is born, you'll forget all about her."

"And if I don't?" Matthew challenged.

Victoria shrugged. "If you don't well...I'm a reasonable woman. Men always keep mistresses, and if you'd like to keep Axel, that's fine." Victoria winked slyly. "As long as she knows her place."

🥀

I awoke the next morning burdened my sorrow. I didn't want to rise from bed—I couldn't. All I could do was stare at the ceiling and try not to think about anything while failing to achieve that simple mission. In a few short days, all my material comforts would be gone. A breakfast tray was delivered to my room, but I didn't have the heart to eat it. Sometime soon, a servant came to my room.

"Ma'am, Princess Lettie is here to see you," she said.

"Alright," I said tiredly. "Send her up."

The servant girl did her best to keep an impassive face. "You would like me to send her to your room?"

"Yes." There was no way I was getting up from my bed.

The servant knew not to question me again, though I suspected she wanted too. A few moment's later, there was a quiet knock on my door.

"Come in."

Leticia entered with a quizzical expression. "Why are you still in bed?"

I rose halfway and balanced myself on my elbows. "I'm in mourning."

She sighed before sitting at the foot of my bed. "He's still going to dissolve the marriage?"

"He loves her."

"Mmm."

"He does," I repeated. "I don't know why you don't agree, as if you know anything about the issue anyway."

Leticia's eyes rolled. "His feelings toward you are plain. What surprises me is his cowardice."

"He's marrying a tart to make his child legitimate. I wouldn't call that cowardly," I defended.

"He's in love with you, yet he chooses to marry another. That's cowardice."

I opened my mouth to respond, but was interrupted by another knock on the door. This one didn't wait for me to respond, and a figure barreled into my room. It was none other than my uncle Hector.

"Uncle." I glared daggers at him. "What an unwelcome surprise.

The servant girl quickly entered as well. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, he just came upstairs straightaway." Her eyes were frightened and questioning. Somewhere in the house was a rifle and one of the servants knew how to use it. Would you like to have someone use it? her eyes read.

"It's alright. Come back in five minutes," I said. If he's not gone by then, he'll get a bullet, I blinked back.

"I told them I was your uncle," Hector said.

"And you, like any other respectable person knows to wait in drawing room for their host," I snapped. "What on earth do you want?"

"To see you," Hector drawled. He glanced at Leticia. "Whose this chit? I thought the only person you consorted with was Elisabeth."

Leticia opened her mouth to say something but I kicked her through my blanket. Hector couldn't know i was consorting with a princess, it would only result in trying to bleed my dry. "No one," I said quickly. I gestured to myself. "You've seen me. Can you leave now?"

"No, my dear niece, I meant see you. As in, talk some things through before the divorce papers are signed this week."

The mention of the divorce made me feel physically sick. "How did you know about that?"

"I'm your closest male next of kin. It's the solicitor's duty to inform me of the divorce proceedings."

"Still, there's absolutely nothing to talk about."

Hector grinned, as if he could taste my growing discomfort. "Actually, I disagree. We have to decide on your living arrangements."

"You mean you have come to tell me what my living arrangements are," I corrected.

"Luckily for you, Hector continued, I had to let one of my best housekeepers go. In exchange for room and board, I know you'll be happy to assume her responsibilities."

"Of course she wouldn't!" Leticia burst out.

Hector regarded her only for a moment, as if she was an annoying fly.

"I'll be present once you sign the divorce contract, of course. Afterwards, we will go straight to Axel House."

"I'll be doing no such thing," I announced. "I'd rather sleep on the street."

"As much as I'd love to leave you to your own devices, I cannot. We are a distinguished and respectable family. It wouldn't do to abandon my niece to poverty."

"But it would do to make her a virtual slave?" I pointed out. "For we both know that's exactly what you're offering."

"Your words," Hector sneered. "Not mine."

"I will pass on that very kind offer Uncle, thank you."

Hector shook his head at me. "You're just like your mother. A carbon copy."

"Good," I said stoutly. I was slightly perturbed. Unlike the rest of my odious kin, Hector never mentioned my mother.

"The both you think you deserve things far above your station. Despite the glaring truth, you never learn your place," Hector continued.

"I am a lady and the daughter of a gentleman. Despite whatever reservations you have about me, I am not a lowly servant."

"You are the product of an ill advised marriage with a chambermaid. You are every bit the place of a servant," Hector snapped. "Your mother was just the same. She rejected a place as my mistress to marry my brother. Stupid, stupid woman."

I laughed despite myself. "You're still angry after all these years that my mother decided to be a wife and not a whore? If anyone is stupid, it's you."

"I'm not the one who died before their thirtieth birthday," Hector said malevolently. "It is she who is stupid. Stupid and gone."

There was a thinly-veiled implication in his words. "Are you trying to say..."

"You are no better than your mother, Hector interrupted, at least she was a great beauty. With no money or good looks, no one will ever marry you again." His beady black eyes glowed. "You'll remain at Axel House forever."

🥀

Mary nibbled on a powdered cake as she waited patiently in her drawing room. She really hadn't wanted to pay that servant's dowry, but maybe it was worth it. The tea cakes were ten times better than before. Her butler gently opened the drawing room door.

"Dr. Farmington, Lady Thomas," the butler announced.

A short man with large spectacles entered and bowed stiffly. "To what do I owe the pleasure ,ma'am?"

"Sit," Mary commanded. Dr. Farmington obeyed. "I understand that you're the doctor for my son's pregnant mistress. You monitor the development of the growing child, correct?"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "I shouldn't be discussing patient records. It's confidential."

"Even to an expecting grandmama?" Mary smiled.

"The baby is healthy," Dr. Farmington offered.

"How far along is she exactly?"

"Thirteen weeks approximately ma'am."

"Hmm." Mary took another bite of her tea cake. "Do you want to hear something funny Dr. Farmington?" The doctor didn't move a muscle. "Around that time, some months ago, Matthew was engaged on a business trip in our native country. I know because the dear boy wrote me a letter, and he hardly does that these days." Mary produced the missive. "I know doctors keep fantastic records. You wouldn't happen to let me see the date which Victoria summoned you, would you?"

"As I said, patient records are confidential. I really cannot say more than I already have."

"Right, of course," Mary replied. She gestured to a satin pouch that sat at a table to the doctor's right. "Would you open that pouch for me dear?"

Dr. Farmington reluctantly complied. His eyes widened as he looked at the contents. "This is..."

"Your entire annual salary, presumably. I can give you that, threefold, dear doctor. All I need is your ledger and the truth. And once your records confirm my suspicions, I need a favor."