Edeana Marylton stared at her reflection in the jewel encrusted mirror, her emerald eyes catching the faint light that filtered through the curtain draped window. Her fiery red hair, thick and untamed, fell around her face in messy waves. Agnes, her half-sister's lady's maid, was tugging at her hair with harsh strokes, as if trying to force some elegance into it. The maid's face was drawn tight with disdain, and Edeana could feel the contempt radiating off her.
It was just mere days ago that Agnes had the pleasure of tending to the every whims of the duke's favoured daughter but now she would have to spare extra time getting his bastard child ready to be wed. Seraphine -as she was told by Agness was admired by all, beauty and grace defined her.
But what Agnes failed to mention to her when she was boasting about her half sister is that Seraphine did not share the same striking red hair or brilliant green eyes as the late Duchess of North Ulbria and Kensingham, the very woman Edeana resembled. No other descendants shared such likeness. No, that distinction belonged solely to Edeana.
The late Duchess had been a figure of high esteem—elegant, regal, the very image of grace. And though Edeana had never known her, she had been told countless times by the servants back home, how much she resembled her grandmother in every way, not just in looks but also in spirit.
Funny how she knew more about her grandmother than her half sister whom she had the 'privilege' of 'saving'. The very thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Abandoned at birth by her mother—whom according to her father had never wanted her either—Edeana had grown up in the shadow of her father's indifference. She had been left at one of his lesser estates, Leighton, to be raised by the servants and groundskeeper. She had never once been acknowledged as his daughter, rather only as an inconvenient reminder of a past he wished to forget.
"Not so hard, Agnes," Edeana muttered, her voice tight with pain as the maid yanked another strand of hair.
Agnes didn't respond, not that Edeana expected her to. The woman's eyes were filled with disdain, and the air between them was thick with unspoken resentment. Edeana knew if Agnes hadn't been specifically commanded by the duke himself, Agnes would have refused to come near her as it was beneath her station.
Edeana wondered if her father had ever lived a moment without commanding others to do his bidding? Even when he summoned her, he had commanded that she was to be present at his estate in Kensingham posthaste. She remembered the exact words he had uttered, cutting through her like a knife. "You are finally of use to me child. Being used to a life of less, you can take Seraphine's place" he had said, his voice cold and dismissive.
Edeana's heart twisted. She was barely provided for in Leighton. But to be told—so bluntly—that her life mattered so little, that her father had chosen her, to save Seraphine, by being married off to a penniless servant for the sake of his firstborn, was truly fitting of his character.
She glanced down at her reflection again, trying to put on a brave face. The servants at home had always been kind to her in their way, though they, too, had kept their distance. She had spent her childhood following the housekeeper around, wondering into the kitchen to listen to the cook's stories, and sneaking rides astride horses when no one was looking. As she grew older, she had learned what she could from Mr. Kellies, the steward, who had taught her to read and write in the evenings when the work on the estate had slowed. Her education had been modest at best, but it had been enough to make her feel like a person, not just a forgotten ward. She had never expected to marry into wealth, nor had she dreamed of being the lady of a grand estate. But she had hoped, at the very least, to have a life of some kind of significance like maybe being a governess or book keeper, something she could call her own.
Her father, however, had dashed that hope. Her life, her future, had been reduced to little more than a charade. And yet, she had no choice but to play her part.
She forced herself to stand, pushing away the flood of bitter thoughts that had begun to cloud her mind. Agnes had finished her hair, leaving it in a state just slightly better than when she started, far from the elegance of Seraphine's coiffures.
"There," Agnes said curtly, stepping back. "Good enough." Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room, eager to be back to her duties of waiting on Seraphine.
Edeana stood there for a long moment, her mind whirling. She was nothing but a pawn in a game she didn't want to play. She was to marry a man she didn't know, and play the role of someone she wasn't—just so her father could shield Seraphine from the consequences of her own actions.
But there was a part of Edeana that refused to simply accept this fate. She had spent her life in the shadows, never truly seen, never truly loved. But that didn't mean she couldn't find her own way. The thought made her heart beat faster, a spark of rebellion stirring deep within her chest.
Perhaps this was not the end, but the beginning of something else. Something that might be hers to control.
With a deep breath, Edeana moved to the window, looking out at the beautiful, sprawling landscape of North Ulbria. It seemed so grand, nothing like the world she had hoped to dreamed of, but somewhere beyond those fields and hills, there had to be more. She wasn't just a forgotten daughter, a mere tool to be used. She was a person with hopes, with desires, and for once, she allowed herself to believe that she could still find a way to live the way she wanted.
The first glimmer of hope stirred in her heart.