The story follows Lady Vanessa, who is left with a massive mountain of debt and an arranged marriage to an aging earl following the sudden death of her parents. Her greedy uncle is eager to push the marriage through, but Vanessa is determined to reclaim her freedom. She decides that the only way to break the engagement and avoid her grim fate is to orchestrate a horrible, ruinous social scandal.

Her unexpected catalyst for this plan is Theodore, a quiet and handsome gardener she encounters. Vanessa hires him to pretend to be her lover. However, as their staged connection leads to unforeseen complications and lingering tension, Vanessa remains completely unaware that Theodore is actually a powerful Duke who is hiding his true identity.

It was him. Though she’d only glimpsed him from afar, a flicker of recognition ignited within Vanessa. Even amidst a crowd, she couldn’t mistake him.

“Vanessa.”

The mere thought of him painted her suppressed memories with vivid color and scent: a sultry summer night, the humid air, his warm breath, a rose garden in full bloom, and that voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Her breath hitched. Was this a hallucination, a phantom born from that night? Or perhaps, a cruel, unwelcome afterimage, brazen enough to haunt her even in daylight? It couldn’t be real. How could he possibly be here? They were at war, and he was an officer in the enemy’s ranks….

“[Are you alright?]”

A hand grasped Vanessa’s shoulder as she swayed, lost in the onslaught of memories. Startled, she pulled away, meeting the concerned face of a stranger.

“[You’re pale as a ghost, young miss. I work at the hospital over there.]”

The woman, dressed in a nurse’s uniform, spoke with a clear, ringing voice. Vanessa hurriedly pulled her hat lower. Now, even the bustling passersby were casting curious glances their way.

“[I’m fine. Thank you.]”

“[You don’t look it. Wait here. Just a moment….]”

“[No. I have to go.]”

Had her accent been convincing enough? It didn’t matter anymore. Vanessa hurried away, her pace quickening as she left the market street behind.

She needed to get home. First, she had to send word to the Marquis of Winchester, confirming the arrangements for their passage out of Amiens. If that wasn’t possible, she’d have to get her child to safety first….

“Oh!”

Misfortune, as always, struck twice. Vanessa tripped over a loose cobblestone, sending her sprawling. The paper bag of groceries she’d been carrying crumpled, spilling its contents across the grimy cobblestones.

Potatoes, bread, and the precious can of formula she’d managed to procure… It rolled across the street, finally coming to rest against the polished boot of an approaching officer. Vanessa’s frantic scramble to gather the scattered potatoes froze.

Why? The sight of the officer’s immaculate boots rekindled the phantom memories, transporting her back to the gardens of that bygone season. The scent of sandalwood, his signature fragrance, couldn’t possibly permeate this filthy alleyway.

Vanessa kept her head bowed, unable to look up. From the corner of her eye, she saw him bend gracefully, retrieving the can from the ground. A terrible silence descended.

“Lady Vanessa.”

He finally spoke her name, his voice laced with a disbelieving chuckle. Oh. The moment when vague premonition solidified into reality was always so breathtakingly surreal. She finally forced herself to look up. There he stood, at the end of the alley, bathed in the pale sunlight filtering through the gaps between the dilapidated buildings.

Theodore. Her usurper. Her charming deceiver. The man she’d left behind in that garden so long ago.

“I thought… I thought I was losing my mind.” His red lips curved into a wry smile. His skin was a shade darker than she remembered, his physique more robust, filling out his naval officer’s uniform. His eyes were sharper, his cheeks a little leaner….

Yet, he was still breathtakingly handsome, a man whose mere glance could still unsettle her soul.

“Tell me. Why are you here, like this?” His eyes, a swirling mix of emotions, settled into a languid mockery.

Vanessa closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Why was she here, like this? To explain that, she would have to go back further, to the very beginning….

* * *

Happiness arrives subtly, often unnoticed. Misery, however, announces itself with brutal clarity. And misery rarely travels alone. Vanessa Cyrene Somerset learned this truth in the spring, just two weeks shy of her thirteenth birthday.

“Everything will be different now.”

The man, silent until that moment, finally spoke as the train pulled into Bath Station. Vanessa, who had been gazing out the window, turned to face the man who had introduced himself as ‘Mr. Wyatt’s solicitor.’

Mr. Wyatt, her estranged uncle, had sent for her immediately after her parents’ funeral.

“The title of Count of Somerset will pass to Mr. Wyatt, Vanessa. You will have no claim to the estate or the family name. Mr. Wyatt will assume all legal rights and responsibilities concerning you.”

“All legal rights?”

“Everything. What you eat, what you wear, every penny you spend, it will all be up to him.”

“….”

“Including your marriage, when you come of age.”

A flicker of pallor touched Vanessa’s young face, framed by her black mourning dress. The solicitor observed her with a curious gaze. He hadn’t expected a thirteen-year-old girl to grasp the full implications of his words.

However, his client, Mr. Wyatt, had insisted on absolute clarity, down to the smallest detail, to avoid any inconvenient questions later.

“We’ll be arriving shortly. I’ll get your luggage.”

Glancing out the window, the solicitor folded his newspaper and rose from his seat. Her luggage, a small valise, was stored in the overhead compartment. He handed it to her, and she placed it neatly on her lap.

“Someone will be waiting to escort you to Gloucester Castle. Just follow them.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I disembark at the next station. I have a mountain of work for other clients.”

The solicitor checked his pocket watch, his tone softening slightly. The nine-hour train journey from London to Bath was arduous even for an adult. Yet, this young girl had remained composed throughout. No tears, no fidgeting, no complaints.

Considering she’d lost both parents less than a month ago, her composure was remarkable.

“What sort of man is my uncle?”

Her question pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes, narrowed in contemplation, straightened.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I heard you worked with him for a long time. Overseas.”

“Well… He’s not a… gentle man. But you’re his only living relative. I doubt he’ll be unkind.”

“….”

“Things will change again in seven years, when you come of age.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in question, her golden lashes, framing her pale grey eyes, fluttering like butterfly wings.

“How will they change?”

“You’ll be married. Then you’ll inherit the annuity that was paid to the former Countess. It’s approximately thirty thousand pounds a year.”

“Do I have to marry to inherit the annuity?”

“Or have a child. Imperial law grants inheritance rights to those with dependents. Until then, Mr. Wyatt—I mean, the new Count of Somerset—will manage your finances.”

Vanessa nodded gracefully, her posture still perfectly upright. Not a flicker of emotion betrayed the fact that she wouldn’t have access to a single coin of her inheritance until she reached adulthood. He wondered if she’d even understood.

Of course, at her age, such complex matters as annuities and inheritance were probably beyond her comprehension. The train hissed to a stop at the platform.

“North Somerset, Bath Station! Please collect your belongings! The train will depart in ten minutes!”

Passengers surged into the aisle, jostling for position. Vanessa stood, her face slightly tense as she clutched her valise. She took a few steps and then stumbled, swaying precariously.

“Good heavens.”

The solicitor caught her arm, surprised. She’d seemed so composed while seated, but her body was burning with fever.

“You’ll need to see a doctor when you arrive at the castle.”

“Thank you for your concern, but it’s not that serious.”

“You have a high fever.”

“Will you tell my uncle?”

“Of course.”

“It’s nothing serious. I’m just… excited, I think.”

“Excited?”

“I have fond memories of summers at Gloucester Castle. I’m very sad now, but I’m sure I’ll be happy again once I’m settled.”

Vanessa touched her flushed cheek with the back of her hand, offering a genuinely childish smile.

“Please don’t tell my uncle. I don’t want him to worry.”

The solicitor was momentarily speechless. He prided himself on his ability to handle any situation, yet this innocent girl filled him with a strange sense of shame. All he could manage was a weak, “I wish you all the best, Vanessa.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“You should go now. The train is about to leave.”

Vanessa stepped off the train, waving goodbye. The solicitor watched her walk away, a belated pang of guilt twisting in his gut.

Life would be difficult for her now, but her future seemed bright. With her delicate features, elegant bearing, and angelic smile, she was destined to become a great beauty, one who would undoubtedly captivate society.

A woman’s happiness and success, after all, were often determined by the price of her marriage. Even a scoundrel like Wyatt wouldn’t undervalue a jewel like Vanessa. With her beauty and gentle nature, she would easily win her husband’s heart. Perhaps I’m worrying needlessly. In a few years, she’ll likely make headlines with news of a brilliant marriage.

He pushed aside his unease, unfolding his newspaper once more. He was tired, and he longed for the comfort of a hotel bed before nightfall.

Exactly seven years later, as he, and everyone who knew Lady Vanessa, had predicted, she did indeed make headlines. Not for her marriage, however, but for a scandal.

“Baron Howard will be arriving tomorrow evening.”

It was for a dinner to celebrate Vanessa’s twentieth birthday. Vanessa paused mid-slice of duck, staring in bewilderment at her uncle, who sat at the head of the table. The scent of whiskey and vomit still clung to him from his pre-dawn arrival, dragged in by the gambling hall’s guards. He gulped his wine like water, then belched loudly.

It had been three years since their last encounter, following her graduation from Saint Louis Boarding School just yesterday afternoon, yet her uncle seemed unchanged. Vanessa demurely lowered her gaze back to her plate. “Will he be staying long?”

“I expect so. Baroness Howard passed away a few months ago.”

‘Ah, that poor old woman.’

Vanessa had read about the unfortunate woman’s demise in the newspaper a few days prior. Run over by a carriage while crossing the street. While the papers portrayed it as a tragic accident, the accounts from those who witnessed the event told a different story. They said the Baroness had been fleeing in terror, driven to desperation by her crippled husband’s cane.

Those who saw her leap into the path of the carriage claimed she looked as if she were throwing herself to her death to find salvation. Vanessa didn’t know which version was true, but either one was enough to tarnish Baron Howard’s reputation.

“We’ll need new clothes and jewels to receive the old man properly.” Her uncle, having drained his wine glass, pulled his plate closer. “Fetch the checkbook. Use it sparingly. No extravagance.”

Vanessa stared at him, dumbfounded. The Baroness’s death was a terrible tragedy, but new clothes and jewelry to receive the Baron? What did she have to do with him? Her perfectly logical train of thought abruptly derailed as a chilling realization dawned. Her pale hand, gripping the silverware, trembled slightly. “What are you saying?”

“Yes. He’s urgently looking for a new wife. Managing an estate without a mistress is quite a burden, you know,” Wyatt said, scooping up a generous portion of greasy duck and chewing with gusto. The red flesh was unceremoniously torn apart beneath his sharp fork and knife. “Of course, I don’t intend to marry you off immediately. If someone offers better terms than that old man, they’ll take precedence. You’ll need to meet as many men as possible, so you’ll be quite busy for a while.”

Her uncle’s meaning was clear. A transaction. A marriage transaction, with herself as the sole commodity on display. Nausea churned in her barely-filled stomach. Catching the anxious glances of the maids, Vanessa bit her lip. Objecting to the tyrant of Gloucester Castle would be unwise, both for her and for the servants. Taking a calming breath, she forced a casual tone. “If he arrives tomorrow, it will overlap with my own guests’ visit.”

“Your guests?” Wyatt’s eyes widened, feigning surprise. His expression, a mixture of suspicion and wariness, demanded an explanation.

“The Winchester twins, as I mentioned in my last letter.” Vanessa spoke quickly, suppressing her anxiety. “They plan to embark on their Grand Tour after graduation, but they wished to spend a month here visiting friends beforehand. You gave your permission last time… do you remember?”

Wyatt’s face, initially poised for refusal, shifted into a thoughtful frown. The name ‘Winchester’ had worked its magic. “…Fine. Do as you please.” The Count grumbled, waving a greasy finger in warning. “But don’t even dream of neglecting our guest because of your friends.”

“Of course not.”

Satisfied with her docile response, Wyatt reached for the next dish. The clinking of silverware filled the ensuing silence. As a young footman presented the dessert plate, Vanessa rose from her seat. She had endured the meal long enough to avoid offending her uncle. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As expected, Wyatt merely nodded without glancing her way. The last thing Vanessa saw before leaving the dining hall was her uncle pouring whiskey into his custard cream. Maintaining a calm pace until she reached the stairs, Vanessa quickened her steps, breaking into a run as she passed the entrance hall. She needed to reach the garden. It was the only place in Gloucester Castle where she could compose herself without being observed.

“My lady.” Harold, the butler, blocked her path. The wrinkled old man’s eyes scrutinized her pale face. “Running like that is dangerous. Is something the matter?”

Harold, with a long scar running from his left eyebrow to his chin, was a butler Wyatt had hired seven years prior. He resembled a gang enforcer more than a seasoned servant. Vanessa shook her head lightly. “No, nothing’s wrong. Thank you for your concern.”

She forced a smile as Harold continued to observe her, hands clasped behind his back. Apparently finding nothing amiss, the butler pursed his lips in disapproval. “Regardless, such behavior is unbecoming, especially with guests arriving.”

“I’ll keep that in mind… Are all the preparations for my friends complete?”

“Your guests will be staying in the west wing to avoid encountering the other guests. Two bedrooms have been prepared.”

“Other guests? Are more arriving?”

“A few more of the Count’s guests are expected. They will be staying in the east wing. The Count insists that all guests attend dinner during their stay.”

“…If Uncle says so, I must comply. Very well.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” Harold stopped her again as she attempted to pass. Vanessa looked at him questioningly, and he shook his head firmly. “Do not go into the garden for the time being. There’s electrical work being done, and the ground is uneven. New workers have been brought in from outside as well.”

“New workers?”

“Yes. They will be renovating the abandoned annex, hunting grounds, and gardens one by one.”

“Renovating? Suddenly?” Vanessa blinked in surprise. Her uncle spent lavishly on his own pleasures, but hoarded every penny otherwise. He had even sold off the family’s tenant farms to pay off his debts, so where did he find the money…?

“The guest quarters will be prioritized. The east wing’s reception room, the hunting grounds, the front yard, and the fishing pond will be first. Then the maze garden, the backyard, the west wing, and lastly, the rose garden. That’s the furthest out, so people rarely go there anyway.” Harold explained, ticking off each location on his fingers. He suddenly opened a window and frowned. The faint shouts grew louder. It seemed a fight had broken out among the newly hired laborers.

Men, covered in dust, grappled and rolled on the ground, clutching at each other’s collars. They tumbled into a cart laden with materials, causing the precariously stacked items to sway dangerously.

“Whoa! That’s going to collapse!” The workers, who had been watching the fight with amusement, finally lumbered over. Harold sighed and shook his head at the spectacle. “It seems this summer will be anything but quiet.”

Vanessa silently agreed. This summer promised to be long and noisy.

* * *

The faces of the soldiers, filling the old train station, were alight with the anticipation of a long leave. Trains arrived from all directions, briefly paused to engulf a wave of men, then hurried off to their respective destinations.

Theodore stood apart from the bustling crowd, accepting a letter from a messenger. The young officer’s smooth brow furrowed as he read. Sergeant River Ross, keenly attuned to his superior’s displeasure, cautiously inquired, “Bad news, sir?”

“No.” His reply was casual, yet the letter crumpled mercilessly in his large hand. River Ross, looking as if he’d swallowed a frog, gazed up at his superior with concern.

If the letter had been one of the countless love letters that bombarded the Admiralty’s mailbox daily, causing such disposal problems, it wouldn’t evoke such a visible reaction. Most of those letters ended up in the bin unopened anyway. This one didn’t bear the Ingram royal crest on its seal.

“A soldier’s mail is all the same. Inquiries about well-being, any injuries. That sort of thing.”

“But you seem rather…”

“Hm?”

“…displeased.”

Theodore chuckled, dropping the crumpled letter into the outstretched hands of the messenger, along with a gleaming gold coin. He could have easily brushed it off with a different explanation, but his sergeant always opted for blunt honesty. In Theodore’s world, that was a valuable trait. A consistent, almost foolishly upright man. Far more trustworthy than the calculating and frivolous types.

“My grandmother is rather persistent. It seems she hasn’t given up yet.”

“Was it regarding a marriage proposal, sir…?”

“An annual ritual I must endure with every leave. Lectures on marriage, engagements, even just courting.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. He didn’t mind the company of women, but the prospect of a serious relationship filled him with a deep aversion. He had abandoned the hope of a normal courtship, or a respectable marriage, at the age of eight. The very day his mother died attempting to elope with the family chauffeur.

Nothing was as dreadful and hollow as the word ‘love.’ Theodore had learned that lesson earlier than most. His parents had married after six years of courtship, each other’s first love, yet their story ended in bitter hatred and death.

“It seems the Dowager Duchess of Batenberg is determined to shove her war-hero grandson into the royal court.” Theodore felt the lingering chill of cynicism as he placed a thin cigarette between his lips. He was quite fond of these cheap, army-issued smokes. He resisted the urge to light it immediately, instead holding the end firmly between his teeth.

The sky was exceptionally clear. Sunlight poured through the massive arched window, and the distant cries of gulls drifted on the air. Theodore gazed at the dazzling scene for a moment, then adjusted his white navy cap. “Officer River Ross, what are your plans for summer leave?”