CH 01

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.

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