Baron McIntosh didn't know what to make of it. Sitting across from him in the carriage is the woman he had served during his time as a butler, now his bride. Lady Ambrosia, formerly the eldest daughter to the Cortland Ducal house and princess consort. Soon after his highness’ affections waned and unsavory rumours came to light, Ambrosia was quietly disinherited.

  In a delicious twist of irony, the woman who had once overlooked his very existence now rests under his authority. In his heart lay a subdued flicker of satisfaction, but only brief. Soon snuffed out by the crushing awareness of his role as the downgraded suitor in this humiliation ritual. The Baron observed his new wife, just a few years younger than he, but her face was so heavy with the years of over-work that she appeared much older. At the very least, he supposed they had that in common. Exploited, and discarded by ungrateful beneficiaries.

  "Is everything alright my lady?"

  Ambrosia's brow twitched in suspicion, yet her eyes remained locked on buildings beyond the carriage. "You speak as though that title still applies."

  The baron cringed. "Well, I am still adjusting to the new development."

  Her stern eyes finally met his, but when he searched carefully he found something like grief in them. Much softer now than on the day of their wedding. Back then, they were ablaze with contempt and she made no effort to hide it. She was being snubbed. Married off to a lesser noble (a servant no less) of a destitute territory, far removed from the trendy capital. It was like a death sentence for a noble woman of her pedigree. A punishment for being too jealous over her position. The humble wedding hall mostly consisted of gossips and hostiles. Prince Cornelius de Vernon sat in the third row with his mistress Lady Delphi. The couple’s relationship proudly on display thanks to Ambrosia overshadowing the scandal. Delphi wore a bemused smile, while his highness remained unreadable. As for McIntosh, he had a few friends and acquaintances at the venue. Nobody from the house of Cortland was in attendance.

  He remembered feeling out of place at her side, seeing that even in her homely wedding attire, and miserable state she still managed to outshine him. Mr. McIntosh never considered himself to be unattractive. He was tall, always respectably dressed, and somewhere in between lean and gaunt. If anybody found him so he’d chalk it up to his sleep deprivation or pessimism, or maybe his lightly freckled face. Standing next to her, arms interlinked, was the first time he felt self-conscious about that kind of thing.

  “May I be so bold?”

  “Hmm? Oh yes… so long as you do not tempt me to throw you out of the carriage.” Ms. Cortland swallowed, unable to separate his humorous intent from an actual reprimand. She may put herself in danger with whatever comes out of her mouth next.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “What are your intentions with me?”

  “How bold indeed!”

  “I am a disgraced woman, a commoner, a pariah. Surely, bringing me into your house as your wife no less would make you a target for ridicule.”

  He smiled mischievously. “But my, you are quite the trophy.” His words made Ambrosia shift nervously in her seat but he continued. “When his highness offered you to me, my initial reaction was to think; Who am I, a mere baron to refuse what royalty has presented me? I did not wish to arouse his majesty’s disdain.”

  “So? Is that it?”

  “No. I only needed a few seconds of consideration before accepting the proposal. Ambrosia, are you aware of why they call you the ‘Pantheress of high society’?”

  “That moniker?” Her tongue clicked in annoyance. “To label me as some cunning, scowling woman?”

  “In part, yes, but more importantly everyone must admit that you had your jaws around the neck of the aristocracy. Were you not at the top of your class at the Vanderville Institute?”

  “That’s only natural, I had top scholars tutoring me.”

  “And didn’t you at some point dominate the social scene?”

  She laughed bitterly. “I once made a new boutique temporarily shut their doors after modeling one of their pieces. They hadn’t the workers to keep up with the surge in customers.”

  “And you helped manage the palace’s finances for the past two years?”

  “Three years.”

  “Ambrosia, at our wedding all of those hateful glances were not just directed at you. A golden goose has fallen into my lap, undeservedly so. If not I, there would’ve been many admirers and strategists itching to snatch you off the street.”

  “As I feared.”

  “I want to offer you a deal. You might not know, but months prior my foolish brother made off with prostitutes, and some hundred thousand in gold. With my father dead from the shock, and my mother in a weakened state, I was summoned back to the territory to pick up the pieces.”

  “My condolences.”

  “Some prodigal son he was. At least I won't have to take him back. Anyway, we cannot afford assistance right now, and I have been managing both the McIntosh territory and estate myself.”

  “So you plan to work me to the bone?”

  “It will be hard in the initial stages, yes, but once things stabilize I can provide you with subordinates.”

  “Okay. Then tell me, what do you have to offer in return?”

  “Stay with me five years and I will give you whatever you desire, so long as it is within my ability.”

  “Whatever I desire?” She looked at him with a glower. Heat rose in her chest, forecasting an eventual explosion. “I want revenge, I want that sniveling wench to grovel at my feet!”

  “Within my ability my lady.”

  The crushing sentence had the same effect of dumping cold water on a fire. She sank back down into her seat helplessly staring at nothing in particular. “I want to disappear.”

  [To be continued]