Clara's trembling fingers clutched at my mask, her triumphant sneer visible even through the filth coating her face. I reached out and snatched it back from her with unexpected quickness, surprising even myself with the forceful motion.
"You won't be taking this from me again," I said, securing the mask over my scarred face with practiced movements.
Clara's mouth fell open in shock. She wasn't used to me fighting back. For years, I'd been her favorite punching bag, enduring her cruelty in silence. Not anymore.
I turned to her maid, Clara Meadows, who hovered uncertainly near the doorway, eyeing the mess with dismay.
"You," I pointed at her. "Bring more maids. Your mistress is filthy and needs a thorough cleaning."
The maid bobbed a quick curtsy. "Yes, Miss Isabella."
"It's almost Duchess of Blackwood to you," I corrected her, feeling a strange thrill at saying the words aloud.
Before she scurried off, Clara found her voice again. "I'm going to tell Father and Lady Beatrix exactly what you did! You'll regret this, Isabella!"
I laughed, the sound still unfamiliar to my ears after years of repressing any joy. "Tell them. What can they do? Father won't risk offending my future husband by punishing me now."
"He's not your husband yet," Clara hissed, trying to wipe manure from her face and only succeeding in smearing it further. "And he never will be. Once Duke Thorne sees what's under that mask, he'll break the engagement immediately."
Her words struck a tender spot, but I refused to let her see it affect me. "We shall see." I turned to the door. "I'd hurry with that bath if I were you. The smell is becoming unbearable."
I walked out, closing the door behind me just as Clara let out another frustrated shriek. The sound was music to my ears.
I needed to act quickly. Clara would seek revenge as soon as she was clean, likely by destroying whatever possessions of mine she could find. I quickened my pace toward my room, planning to gather anything of value before she could get to them.
The Beaumont household had never felt like a home to me. The walls seemed to hold their breath as I passed, as if the very house was waiting to see what would happen next. Servants scurried out of my way, their eyes downcast. Word of my engagement to Duke Alaric Thorne had spread quickly, transforming me overnight from the family embarrassment to someone they dared not offend.
As I climbed the stairs to my sparsely furnished bedroom, I thought about my father's financial situation. The rumors were true – Baron Reginald Beaumont was deeply in debt. Years of gambling and poor investments had whittled away our family fortune until little remained but our name and the crumbling manor house. It was why he'd been so quick to accept my engagement to the Duke despite his dislike of me. The connection to Blackwood wealth was too valuable to reject.
I gathered my few treasured possessions – a small portrait of my mother painted before her death, a silver hairbrush that had been hers, and a few books I'd managed to hide from Clara's destructive tantrums over the years. Everything fit into a single bag. The evidence of my life here was pitiful.
Once my bag was packed, I slipped out through the servant's entrance and made my way to the garden. The autumn air had a bite to it, leaves crunching beneath my feet as I walked to a small plot beneath an old oak tree. A small mound of disturbed earth marked where Clara had buried my kitten – and my mother's wedding dress.
I knelt on the cold ground, not caring about the dirt staining my skirts. "I'm sorry," I whispered, running my fingers over the soil. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, little one. And I'm sorry about the dress, Mother."
I'd thought about digging it up, but something held me back. The dress was ruined now, and perhaps it was fitting that it remained with the kitten who had been my only friend in this household of cruelty.
"I'm leaving soon," I continued, speaking softly to the ground. "I don't know if I'll be happy with the Duke, but anything must be better than this place."
The wind rustled through the oak branches above me, sending a shower of golden leaves spiraling down around my shoulders.
"Mother, I've often wondered why you never came back for me," I said, my voice barely audible. "Did you die, as Father claimed? Or did you simply not want me anymore after I was scarred?"
I traced the edge of my mask with my fingertips.
"If you're alive somewhere, I hope you have a good reason for leaving me here with them. I've imagined a thousand explanations – that you were forced away, that you've been searching for me, that something prevented your return."
My throat tightened. "But if you come back now, and you don't have a good reason... I'll ruin you too. Just like I'm going to ruin Clara and everyone else who hurt me."
The words surprised me as they left my lips, but I meant them. Something had changed inside me when Duke Alaric had accepted my proposal. For the first time, I had power – the power to escape, the power to protect myself, and maybe even the power to seek justice.
"Isabella!" Lady Beatrix's shrill voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up to see my stepmother leaning out of an upper window, her face pinched with fury. "What in God's name do you think you're doing? Have you gone completely mad?"
I rose slowly to my feet, brushing dirt from my skirts. "I'm not sure what you mean, stepmother."
"Don't play innocent with me! Clara told me everything – about how you burst into her bathroom and threw... threw excrement all over her! How dare you behave like such an animal? Has your jealousy of your sister finally driven you completely insane?"
I stared up at her, feeling oddly calm. The old Isabella would have cowered, apologized, begged for forgiveness. But that Isabella was fading away with every passing hour.
"I didn't throw excrement on Clara," I replied evenly. "I merely returned her own personality to her. Would you like me to do the same for you?"
Lady Beatrix's face contorted with shock and rage. Her mouth opened and closed several times, no sound emerging. I'd never spoken to her that way before – no one had.
"You ungrateful little monster!" she finally sputtered. "Your father will hear about this! You'll be locked in your room until the Duke comes – if he still wants you after I tell him what kind of creature you really are!"
I smiled beneath my mask. "By all means, tell him. I'm sure Duke Alaric Thorne – the man they call the Monster of Blackwood – will be horrified to learn that his future wife stood up to her tormentors."
Lady Beatrix's face reddened further. "You won't get away with this insolence!"
"I already have," I replied, turning my back on her. "I suggest you start treating me with the respect due to your future social superior. After all, a Duchess outranks the wife of a Baron quite significantly."
Behind me, Lady Beatrix slammed the window shut with such force that I heard the glass rattle in its frame. I continued walking, my heart racing despite my outward calm. I'd never defied her so openly before, and the exhilaration of it coursed through my veins like fire.
Two more days, and I would leave this place forever. Two more days until I became Isabella Thorne, Duchess of Blackwood. Two more days until I traded one uncertain future for another.
I touched my mask again, wondering what Duke Alaric would do when he inevitably saw what lay beneath it. Would he recoil in disgust, as Clara had predicted? Or would he honor our contract regardless?
Either way, I was committed to this path now. There was no turning back – especially after what I'd just done to Clara.
As I approached the house again, I heard Lady Beatrix's angry footsteps storming down the corridor above. She was undoubtedly heading to my father's study to demand my punishment.
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. Let her try.