Chapter 2
Standing dutifully beside the neighboring velvet chair was Delphina Crowe, Gareth’s thirty-three-year-old fiancée. She was a vision of sculpted aristocracy in a tight, champagne-colored satin evening gown that clung flawlessly to her slender frame. Diamond earrings swung gently from her lobes, catching the golden chandelier light, perfectly matching the massive, blinding engagement ring on her left hand. She offered a courteous, practiced smile to the guests, projecting an aura of complete, unbothered calm. Yet, beneath the flawless presentation of her fair, rosy skin, Delphina possessed a cold, calculating ambition.
Seated directly beside Gareth was his mother, Beatrice Blackwell. The seventy-four-year-old matriarch wore an elegant navy evening dress draped with a soft knitted shawl. Pearl earrings rested against her earlobes. Despite her regal posture, Beatrice looked fragile tonight. A heavy, white plaster cast supported her injured wrist, resting awkwardly on the polished walnut table. Beatrice sometimes forgot names and minor appointments, a symptom of her advancing age, but she possessed a sharp, unyielding spirit.
"Is your arm causing you significant pain tonight, Mother?" Gareth asked, his deep voice softening by a fraction of a millimeter as he looked at the cast.
Before Beatrice could answer, Delphina’s manicured hand darted out to rest gently on the older woman's shoulder.
"She is just a bit tired, aren't you, Beatrice?" Delphina intervened, her American accent smooth and dripping with a patronizing, synthetic warmth. "It was such a clumsy fall down the garden steps. We must be much more careful with our footing at this age."
Beatrice’s jaw tightened. She looked up at Delphina, her eyes blazing with a suppressed, helpless fury. She had not fallen. Delphina had shoved her in a fit of jealous rage when Beatrice had confronted her about her cruel mistreatment of the household staff. But Delphina had immediately spun the narrative to Gareth, blaming the matriarch's failing memory and brittle bones.
"Did the physician provide an adequate timeline for the bone to heal?" Gareth inquired, his cold eyes shifting from the cast to Delphina's flawless face.
May you like
"He said a few weeks, darling," Delphina answered quickly, her diamond earrings flashing. "It was a minor fracture. Really, she is perfectly fine. We shouldn't let it ruin this beautiful dinner."
Across the room, emerging from the service corridor, was Anya Reed. At twenty-seven, the housemaid was exceptionally beautiful, possessing a movie-star quality that effortlessly rivaled the wealthy women seated at the tables. She had a softly tapered face, high delicate cheekbones, and highly expressive brows. Her fair skin glowed in the warm light, and her thick hair was pinned meticulously into a loose, elegant French twist. She wore a sophisticated black maid dress featuring a cinched waist, a slim fitted silhouette, and a short A-line skirt. A neatly tied white apron, paired with a crisp white collar and cuffs, completed her polished appearance. Anya’s heart hammered against her ribs as she approached the head table, carrying a heavy silver tray.
