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Not today.

Today was the day to concentrate on her plan.

After returning home and performing her ablutions, she put on her crimson masquerade gown, and pinned her now-blond hair into an elegant coiffure.

The woman in the mirror was both stranger and old friend—ready to reclaim her name and her story.

Tonight, the masquerade would end.

She put on her gloves, one finger at a time, as if preparing for battle.

The tears had dried. The grief remained—a constant companion—but now it was joined by purpose.

Revenge.

And revenge, she hoped, could sustain her where love alone could not.

* * *

Jacob entered the parlor where Elise sat conversing with Lady Somerville. Elise was embroidering something, which was a rare sight. She disliked the activity with a fiery passion. But perhaps she needed to keep her hands busy.

Jacob could relate. He cracked his knuckles nervously and stepped farther into the room.

“Well, the last of the trunks are packed and ready,” he said, adjusting his cufflinks and the collar of his shirt. “The carriage with the servants will leave first thing in the morning. We’ll follow after breakfast.”

“Who knew you’d be leaving before me?” Lady Somerville said with a wistful smile.

“I don’t understand why we have to leave at all,” Elise said. Her fingers plucked at the embroidery in her lap. Jacob tilted his head to get a better look. It resembled a tulip with black petals… His tulip?

“You know why,” he replied. “We’ve done what we needed—bought you gowns, introduced you to society. Now it’s time to return to our previous lives.”

“Without Nory.” Elise’s voice was flat. Accusatory.

“Without Miss Hartwell, yes…” Jacob turned toward the window, unable to meet his ward’s penetrating gaze, uncomfortably reminiscent of her mother’s in moments of confrontation. She was growing into the image of her more and more each day.

“She left to confront the man who hurt her. Alone.” Elise stabbed her needle through the fabric with unnecessary force.

“It’s how it had to be.” Jacob clasped his hands behind his back.

“Is it?” Elise stood abruptly and crossed to the window, forcing him to face her. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything in your warped attempt to protect me as if I’m a child.”

She leaned against the windowsill, arms folded across her chest.

“You are a child,” he said, more defensively than he meant to.

“I’m almost eighteen.” Her chin lifted. “I’ll be eligible to leave the house, marry, and have children of my own soon. Yet I can’t know the truth of why my dear friend, the closest person I have to a mother, left, and my guardian, the man who is meant to protect us, is dragging us away from her?”

“I am doing this to protect you!”

“How? Tell me how leaving her alone and vulnerable protects us—the children who’ve loved her from the moment she stepped through the door.”

The porcelain cup clicked against its saucer as Lady Somerville finished her tea. Jacob turned to her, expecting her to speak, but she simply leaned back, observing their conversation with open curiosity.

“Very well,” he said, facing Elise again. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

He wasn’t sure where to begin. That Honoria had lied to them about who she was? That her husband was a monster of a man who still held legal claim over her? That she insisted on staying as far away from them as possible for Elise’s sake?

The clock on the mantel ticked away the seconds as Jacob searched for words.