Rosamund
"Why do you say so?" I asked, turning to her slightly.
She steered me toward the vanity and started brushing my hair. "I tried speaking with two of the kitchen maids this morning. Asked them simple things — how long they'd worked here, what the estate was like." She paused. "They simply smiled and said I should direct all my inquiries to the head housekeeper."
"Mrs Harlow..." I murmured.
"Yes." Fanny sighed. "I've never seen anything like it. Servants are supposed to be at the centre of information in any household. They act like they've been told not to talk."
"Yes," I nodded. "Something is indeed strange."
"Do you think it's connected to the Duke?" Fanny leaned in closer, whispering. "There's a myth... a tale, more like, that this place is enchanted. And from the way everyone here looks so young with fair skin, I can't help but wonder if —"
"That's enough, Fanny!" I said sharply, stopping her before she planted more fear in my heart. "You cannot draw conclusions based on hearsay."
"I'm sorry, Rosamund." She sighed. "I'm just worried about you and scared at the same time. Last night, I'm sure I saw the Duke leaving your room. The details are hazy —"
"What did you just say?" I turned to her sharply.
She swallowed hard, scratching her head. "I said I saw the Duke leave your room. I was still half asleep from the wine, but I'm sure it was him. I remember the door opening and a figure stepping out. And the mask..." She paused. "That's difficult to forget, even half asleep."
I turned back to the mirror. My reflection stared at me, pale and wide-eyed, while my mind raced with thoughts that confirmed every suspicion I'd been trying to bury.
The folded nightgown. The bruises on my wrists. My bare skin beneath the sheets. And now this.
What did the Duke do to me? Why had he come to my room?
"Did he do anything?" I asked, trying to keep the fear from my voice.
"I don't have a lot of recollection, my lady," Fanny sighed. "I only saw him leaving. Do you think he's the one who..." she trailed off, covering her mouth as her eyes widened. "My lady, do you think the Duke tried to..."
"Maybe," I cut her short, keeping my voice low. "But that's not what she should worry about right now. We need to find a way to stick together if we must survive this place. Henceforth, you'll share my room with me."
Her brows arched with a frown, but she nodded. "Also," she said, "didn't Dora say she's been here for three years? If anyone knows what happened to the Duke's other women, it could be her."
I hadn't thought of that. I'd been so focused on Dora's behaviour that I'd missed what her silence might be protecting. Three years at Wellspring meant she had been here through Catherine, possibly Elowen and Margaret.
"You're right," I said. "Try to befriend her, but slowly. Don't push too hard or she'll shut down completely. Just let her get comfortable with you."
"I'll do everything I can, my lady," Fanny said, determination flickering in her eyes. "Because if you survive, I can survive too."
"And I'll do my best to stall the wedding for as long as possible. Once I marry the Duke, it'll be much harder to get out of this."
"You have time," Fanny said with a gentle smile. "Custom says a fiancée gets four weeks before the wedding. You're supposed to learn the duties of a duchess before the marriage. That's plenty of time to figure things out, and I'll help you."
"Perfect!" I exhaled slowly, sharing a quiet smile with Fanny through the mirror. "I can manage four weeks."
Just then, a knock came at the door, and Fanny straightened, stepping back into her role as my maid.
"Come in," I called.
Clyde entered with a quiet smile. "Good morning, Lady Rosamund. His Grace is waiting for you in the dining hall."
"I was about to come down," I replied, returning his smile. "I'm finished. We can go now."
As I rose to my feet, I noticed Clyde in the mirror studying me with a strange expression; his gaze lingered a moment too long.
"Is something wrong with my outfit? Is it not proper?" I ran a hand over the green velvet dress.
"Of course not, my lady," He shook his head. "Did you sleep well last night?"
"I did," I said with a smile.
"And you don't feel feverish? No pain anywhere? No discomfort?"
The questions were too specific, as if he were a physician running through a list of symptoms.
"Is something wrong?" I pursed my lips, giving him a pointed stare. "Why are you asking me this, Clyde?"
His expression didn't change. "Not at all, my lady. I was just concerned for your well-being. The journey from Briarwood to Wellspring can take a toll on a person. But since you're well..."
"I'm perfectly fine," I said. "Thank you for your concern."
"Very good, my lady." He bowed and gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"
The dining hall was vast. A long oak table that could seat twenty dominated the room, flanked by tall windows that let in pale morning light. Portraits of men and women I didn't recognise lined the walls, their painted eyes tracking me as I walked to my seat.
Nevan was already seated at the head of the table. He rose when I entered.
"Good morning, Rosamund. I trust you slept well?"
Why was everyone suddenly so concerned about how I slept?
"I did," I said, taking the chair he gestured to at his right.
Something in his jaw shifted, as though my answer had confirmed something he'd been afraid of.
Silence settled between us like a third guest. Servants filed in and out with trays, each moving as though they had rehearsed a choreography for serving food. As someone who had worked as a maid all my life, I found this so unnatural.
But I thrust the thought away from my mind and tried to live in the moment.
A while later, they were done. I picked at a bread roll and forced myself to take a bite. I'd lost my appetite from the moment Fanny had told me she'd seen the Duke in my room last night.
I knew I had to ask questions, no matter what the consequences would be, because if I continued like this, I might go mad from the million thoughts running in my head.
"Nevan," I said, breaking the silence. "The matter with the King. Was it resolved?"
He looked up quickly, as though the question surprised him, then nodded. "It was addressed."
"And? What did the King want?"
"Affairs of the Crown."
"Could you be less specific?" I said dryly. "I nearly understood you."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. "It doesn't concern you, Rosamund."
"I see. So I'm to be your wife, but I'm not to be told anything about your life."
He didn't respond. He picked up his cup and drank.
"Coward!" I muttered under my breath and went back to my food, pushing around the piece of bread, my mind circling back to the bruises, the nightgown and Fanny's testimony, making me lose track of the food entirely.
"You're not eating."
I looked up to see Nevan watching me, his head tilted slightly.
"Is the food not to your liking? I can have the kitchen prepare something else."
"I'm fine."
"Then eat."
His voice was cold, and from his tone, it was clear it was not a suggestion. It was an order, given in the same tone a man might use on a disobedient hound.
I set my fork down and leaned back in my chair. "Are you going to force me to eat now?"
He exhaled slowly, and when he spoke again, the hardness in his voice had softened, though not by much. "You need your strength, Rosamund, for the day's activities. I'm only asking you to take care of yourself."
"Asking?" I raised an eyebrow. "That didn't sound like asking."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, stiffly: "Please. Eat."
I should have picked up my fork and let it go. I should have swallowed the bread and the silence and moved on. But everything that had happened so far hung over my head like a death sentence.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
"Were you in my room last night?"