"Rise and shine, my lady."
As soon as Andrea, my personal maid, pushed the heavy velvet drapes aside, the invading morning sunlight stabbed into the room. I squinted, groaning, and attempted to pull the thick blankets over my head, retreating into the comforting darkness. I didn't get very far before Andrea, ruthlessly efficient, grabbed the sheets and yanked them down to the foot of the bed.
"Andrea!" I let out a yell, a protest that was half-amusement, half-annoyance.
"It's time for you to get up, My Lady. It's nearly ten o'clock in the morning, and you are still sleeping like a peasant," she scolded gently.
"I'm feeling under the weather," I admitted, hoping to appeal to her sympathy. "Please give me a few more minutes to sleep in."
I shut my eyes, betting that Andrea would leave me alone. Instead, I sensed her standing over me, her palm lightly resting on my brow. "You don't have a fever," Andrea announced nonchalantly.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her amber eyes—a perfect, clear shade—fixed on mine. "What is the matter with My Lady?" she inquired, her voice dropping slightly. "Did someone offend my mistress during Her Late Highness' memorial?"
As I sat up in bed, my abundant, bouncy copper hair cascaded over my shoulders, shimmering like liquid bronze. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Normally, you let me sleep in whenever I wanted. This is unusual, Andrea."
Andrea stepped off the bed and smiled, but it was a knowing, secretive smile. I had grown accustomed to her weirdly expressive grins, but this time it was the creepiest of them all. I continued to observe her as I finally rose from the comfort of the mattress. "You're concealing something from me."
"Did you perhaps meet a very decent man yesterday?" She inquired, her tone light but laced with unmistakable sarcasm.
When I heard the question, my cheeks instantly flushed. I answered truthfully, the memory of Heinley Briggs vivid. "Yes. I did meet a man, but how did you find out about him?"
Andrea grinned widely, cupping her palm over her mouth to stifle a laugh. She appeared to thoroughly enjoy this moment of playful teasing. She was more than just my personal maid; we had grown up together, and she was my closest confidante. "This morning, I overheard His Grace talking about it with his guest."
"Guest?"
"Indeed, My Lady. His Grace has a visitor. When you think about it, she's rather lovely with her titian shoulder-length bob hair and clear amber eyes. Oh, and don't forget about the distinctive mole on her face near her lips. She is stunning, but no one in the world can compete with your beauty, My Lady," Andrea finished, offering a familiar, flattering assessment.
"I see," I murmured, absorbing the description.
I entered the bathing room Andrea had already prepared for me and sank into the tub while she assisted me with my bath. "Your skin is so lovely and fair, My Lady. It's flawless, truly, and it makes me envious," Andrea remarked as she began to soap my shoulders.
I grinned, used to her daily stream of compliments, and thoroughly enjoyed each and every one. The bathing process was luxurious but lengthy. It took her considerable time to clean me and then to assist me with my clothing.
Putting on the corset was the portion of dressing that I loathed the most.
Andrea tugged my corset strings with all her strength, her knee braced against my back, while I clung desperately to my bedpost, trying not to pitch forward. Suffocation—a sensation I'd become accustomed to. But what could I possibly do? This was the necessary ritual we endured for the sake of beauty and adherence to fashion.
I then sat on my dressing chair, staring at my reflection as Andrea meticulously arranged my hair.
"Do you approve of My Lady's hairstyle?" Andrea inquired in hushed tones as I continued to stare intensely into the mirror, observing the transformation. She had styled my mid-thigh-length hair in a fluffy side ponytail, a technique I hadn't realized she possessed. It was perfectly executed, almost as if she were a professional stylist.
"I adore it!" I exclaimed, thrilled. She had chosen an amazing teal gown for me, and the entire effect was that of a walking, living doll. "May God bless your talented hands," I thought, smiling at my reflection.
************
I dashed across the hallway, heading toward the sunroom where Andrea said my father and his mysterious guest were meeting. My light mood vanished the moment I saw a face I never enjoyed seeing—Countess Leonie.
They were conversing easily, sipping tea, when I noticed the female visitor laying her hand possessively on my father's lap. The casual, intimate gesture instantly infuriated me.
"Good morning, Papa," I said as I swept into the sunroom.
Leonie, the woman with the audacity, not only ignored my greeting but continued to hold my father's hand in my presence. What were her intentions toward my father? I immediately disliked her, and I did not bother to hide it.
"Oh, Eli, good morning. Finally, you arrived at the appropriate time," my father welcomed me pleasantly. Yet, I could clearly see the worry in his eyes. He was subtly, unsuccessfully, trying to shove that woman's hand away from his own.
"Papa, are you unwell?" I asked, noting his discomfort.
"Eli, my darling. I've been missing you terribly," the woman, Leonie, chimed in, rising gracefully to meet me. She took both of my hands and kissed each of my cheeks, an unnecessary, fake show of affection. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"
I stared at her, then pointedly averted my gaze to my father, a false, brittle grin plastered on my face. We were not close; I disliked her intensely. Did I have to keep it a secret any longer? The answer was a resounding no.
"You should know the answer to that, Countess Leonie," I continued, my voice deliberately cool and condescending. "Her Royal Highness, Eliana Alexander Devensian! Please do not use my given name carelessly; we are not equals."
Leonie flinched, the public reprimand stinging her face. She quickly dropped into a deep curtsy, and I could see how hard she was trying to disguise the fact that she was biting her lip beneath her carefully applied makeup. "Your Royal Highness, Eliana Alexander Devensian, please accept my apologies for my rudeness."
I walked past her, leaving her curtsying, and sat opposite my father, confronting him directly. My father stared at me as if he had vital, unavoidable news to tell me.
"Leonie, come on over and join us," my father called to her, prompting her to instantly alter her demeanor from humiliated to attentive. She sat in the same seat, though this time she was careful not to sit as close to him. I watched as she picked up her teacup, taking small, snooping sips from it while casting irritated side-glances at me.
"How come this woman is in our conversation, Papa?" I inquired pointedly, accepting the tea Andrea poured for me. I was deeply annoyed that she was here at all and that she had been so tactile with my father.
As I took a sip from my cup, I could see how deeply unhappy Leonie was becoming. My father, on the other hand, did not appear to appreciate my inquiry either. He set his cup on the coffee table and fixed his gaze on me, taking a deep, fortifying sigh.
"As you are aware, the Countess has been a widow for quite some time, and she was a close friend of your mother," he began, his tone formal. He sighed deeply and then dropped the bombshell. "What do you think about having her as your mother, Eli?"
When I heard what he said, I nearly dropped my teacup. Was he serious? How could he suggest a woman I actively disliked, a woman who clearly had ulterior motives, become my mother?
"I disagree," I replied, placing my cup on the table with a decisive clatter. I crossed my arms and legs, my gaze locked on Countess Leonie, the direct challenge unmistakable. She did not appear to appreciate my remark, given how hard she was trying to maintain her cool façade.
"Your Highness, perhaps you could try giving me a chance. You m—" Leonie started, trying to inject a pitiful plea into her voice.
"Did I give you a chance to speak?" I cut her speech short, before she could finish the thought. "I'm sorry I had to derail your plans, Countess Leonie."
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a cool, dangerous register. "If you genuinely wanted to be my mother, you could have contacted me first rather than my father, am I correct? Or are you perhaps merely in love with my father's title and gold, which is entirely out of character for the devoted widow you claim to be? If I could remember where you were and whose arms you were in last night."
My carefully worded remark completely caught my father off guard. It was as if I had suddenly released him from the immense chain that had been imposed on him. He looked at the Countess, his expression demanding an explanation. He needed to know if what I said was true or simply my wild assumption. I was having an immensely satisfying time watching the show.
"Your Highness, I believe you are exaggerating with your remarks. I'll presume you're referring to me as a loose woman in front of your father, His Grace." Leonie stated, immediately reverting to a pathetic, aggrieved act designed to evoke sympathy from my father. My father, however, was a better actor than she was. She tried to force tears from her eyes, but nothing came out, which disappointed me. Was she worried about smudging her thick makeup?
"You're a horrible actor, Countess, and I am certainly not falling for your dramatic gestures," I said, lifting my brow in pure scorn. I turned back to my father, whose face had gone solemn and rigid. "Father, I was informed there was a visitor, and that is why I wanted to join you, but now that I have seen her, I shall excuse myself."
"Wait a second, Eli." As I was walking away, my father stopped me. He stood up, straightened his suit, and went over to me. He then turned back to Leonie, his voice devoid of warmth. "Our visitor was just departing, Countess."
The Countess was left utterly stunned in the sunroom, biting her nails in silent fury. As I walked away, a quick glimpse confirmed the absolute rage simmering beneath her practiced calm. Yes, she was enraged, and I felt a wicked, exhilarating satisfaction in having utterly destroyed her pretense. My father, relieved and amused, took my arm, and we left the sunroom, closing the door on the Countess and her foiled ambitions.