The journey from the grand Hamilton House back to the Farrington estate was long and quiet. The heavy, dark carriage bounced over the uneven dirt roads, the wooden wheels creaking with every mile.
Inside the carriage, Lady Celine sat perfectly still. She looked out the small glass window, watching the green trees of the countryside slowly turn into the gray, crowded streets of the city, and finally into the familiar, imposing iron gates of the family manor. Her mother, Lady Farrington, sat opposite her. The older woman did not speak. She simply stared straight ahead, a look of deep, satisfied triumph resting on her powdered face.
The carriage finally came to a halt. The horses blew out tired breaths. A footman hurried forward and pulled the carriage door open, letting down the metal steps with a loud clank.
