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T he summons to join her parents in the parlor came as Regina finished her morning toilette.

That could only mean one thing: guests. She opted for green silk and golden studs at her earlobes before heading downstairs.

The sight that greeted her as she neared the staircase gave her pause.

There, near the top of the stairs, sat her little sister peering down at the parlor door.

The sight of her little body curled up near the banister, her skinny arms wrapped around her legs was harrowing.

It reminded her too much of how she and Elodia had first met Ada.

“Lilli, I thought you were picking flowers with aai. What are you doing here?”

“She had to go,” she replied, her little voice soft and tremulous.

Regina crouched down beside her, stroking a hand over Lilli’s thick braided hair. “What happened, darling?”

“People came,” she said.

That didn’t explain much. Lillian was isolated to be sure, with not much in the way of friends or family members her age. She was a bit shy of strangers, but certainly not so much as to hide away at the sight of guests.

“Well, you don’t need to stay here, dearest. Come down with me.”

Lilli shook her head and turned her face into Regina’s chest. “The lady was not nice. And the man has funny eyes,” she mumbled.

“Funny eyes?” What on earth did that mean? Who was there?

She hugged Lillian tightly and kissed her hair. “Go find your governess, sweetheart. I’ll come pick flowers with you later.”

“Do you promise?”

“I do. We’ll make fairy crowns as well.”

“Really?” her eyes lit up.

“Really,” Regina tweaked her little nose, and watched her spring to her feet and run down the hall to the nursery, whatever uncertainty Lilli had felt a moment ago already forgotten. She would do anything to make sure she kept that innocence, that ease of mind for as long as possible.

Regina stood and continued down the staircase, bracing herself for whatever was waiting for her.

As quietly as possible, she drew closer to the salon where they typically received guests and listened to the conversation taking place inside.

If she was meant to interact with the enemy, then she wanted to do so with as much information as possible.

“What a quaint home you have, Mrs. Mason, and how comfortable you have made it.”

Ugh. That woman. Mrs. Harrison.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Such interesting little details everywhere.” A pause. “Is this an English biscuit?”

“Is it not to your taste? I’m sure we can find a different kind for you, Mrs. Harrison.”

“Could you? I have a very delicate disposition.”

A pause. “Of course.”

Regina frowned and glanced at the wall separating her from the room. The biscuits were made by their cook, a very round and very Irish woman who was always a faint shade of pink and loved to sing and curse in equal measure. Was her mother truly going to change out the biscuits?

Regina waited, the heavy footfalls indicated her father was approaching. When he rounded the corner, she saw him holding the plate in his hand. He pulled her further down the corridor before letting out a deep sigh.

“Baba?”

“She wants to speak with you alone. If you can manage to stay civil with her, I will buy you any pistol of your choosing, personalized to your liking.”

“To use on her?” she asked glaring at the door. She was only half serious.

“If needed,” he replied flatly.

Her head snapped towards him in shock. “Baba! That was a jest.”

“Was it? I was serious.” He handed her the plate of biscuits, rearranged the stack slightly and nodded. “Off you go. Don’t leave your mother alone with her.”

“Won’t she know these are the same biscuits?”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “They are shortbread Regina, there’s nothing special about them.” Then he gave her a cheeky grin. “If you weren’t my beloved daughter, I’d bet you twenty pounds she doesn’t notice.”

Regina shook her head and walked towards the room with the questionable confectionary in her hand.

“Is that Miss Mason? Come here girl and let us have a proper look at you.”

Regina stepped forward and fashioned a smile, dipping into a deep curtsy. “Hello, Mrs. Harrison, and my Lord Starkley.”

“Ah, my lovely bride to be. I have been anticipating meeting you for some time. Now at last we are here.”

He was very typical of an Englishman. An elegant figure, light brown hair and a pointy face.

But his eyes… one glance explained what her sister meant by ‘funny’.

Those blue eyes were like glass, brilliant but flat, almost dead.

His wide smile was unsettling when paired with them.

This was her future husband. The only thing exceptional about him was his unconvincing facsimile of an expression.

Regina stood up and set the plate down on the table. “I am very glad to meet you as well, my lord. I’ve brought you both some fresh biscuits from the cook. They are lavender shortbread I believe.”

Mrs. Harrison turned to her mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Mason. I will call you when we are finished here.”

Regina’s mother stood and walked past her, shooting her a pointed glare as she left.

Apparently, neither of her parents were fans of her future mother-in-law.

Wonderful.

She walked over and took her mother’s place on the settee, folding her hands in her lap, her back straight. So, this wasn’t an interview, it was an ambush.

“How delightful,” he commented, his gaze filled with rapacious glee. “I knew you would be lovely, but never could I have dreamt up a woman of such grace and refinement.”

Did he even know how to smile like a normal human? It was chilling, how he couldn’t manage to let it reach his eyes. “You flatter me, my lord.”

“Not at all. With such virtues it hardly matters what you look like. All flowers have their own beauty after all.”

Was that meant to be flattering? “I am so pleased to hear you will not be breaking the engagement, my lord. I have been waiting for this for a long time.”

“We both have, but I mean to make it worth your while as my baroness.”

She smiled in lieu of reply. It was always safe to smile with men like him.

God, there had to be something there. Some sign of a human soul.

A hint of kindness. She looked deep into his eyes and saw nothing but lust and greed.

It was exactly what she had feared in her husband.

That he would see her as nothing but a fiefdom to be plundered and conquered.

“Well, your deportment is adequate, and your complexion is even although the color is common. A figure like yours will do well for children I suppose,” Mrs. Harrison said at last, casting another critical eye to Regina’s figure.

Regina watched her silently, imagining the kind of pistol she wanted.

“Of course, mother,” Mr. Harrison agreed, watching her with an entirely different sort of interest despite their audience.

“You will need to restock the family line, you know. If you fail in your duty, it all ends in your hands. Your father may have been willing to let your mother off, but my Edward and I certainly will not.”

Something modern of course, the latest from America ideally. Perhaps Mr. Colt had a new iteration of his Dragoon. “I have every intention of fulfilling my obligations.”

“Yes, your kind shouldn’t have much difficulty with it based on what my Edward tells me about your fellow natives.”

“I hear you were educated here at least?” Mr. Harrison began.

Could it be white metal? Was that even possible? “Yes, at Miss Pollitt’s,” Regina replied.

“A reasonable institution, if a bit common for a baroness.” Mrs. Harrison sniffed before sighing.

“It was good enough for the daughter of a viscount,” Regina noted.

“Don’t interrupt me, girl.” The older woman snapped and Regina bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything else.

“Your father has neatly tied our hands with this alliance like only the son of a tradesman could, but you will not be allowed to embarrass us any further. I shall leave a list of things with your mother that I expect you to be practiced in.”

“A list?” she repeated, unable to believe her ears.

“You must and will be perfect. My Edward must find nothing else wanting,” she said, patting her son’s knee adoringly. The gloating obeisance was almost obscene coming from her.

Regina glanced at ‘her Edward’ who was wearing a smug expression and decided in that moment she wanted the grip of her new pistol decorated in a mandala of mother of pearl.

“Do you understand me, girl?” Mrs. Harrison snapped. “Good God, don’t tell me you haven’t fully mastered English.”

“I understand you, Mrs. Harrison. You didn’t want me to interrupt you, I wasn’t sure you were finished speaking.”

Maybe she could get her father to give her a pair of them. Would that be pushing her luck?

“Mmm,” The woman rose to her feet, tugging sharply on the bodice of her dress. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

Mr. Harrison stood as well with a satisfied expression. “Well then, I say we post the bans and arrange for the party. I have a list of family we would need to invite.”

“Of course, my lord,” Regina replied easily. It was almost over. She would have her two pistols. One per annoying guest.

Regina stood and watched them leave, keeping her hands clasped and her teeth clenched against a torrent of words.

So that was her mother-in-law. Every single fear viciously confirmed in the stark light of day.

There had been too many insults paid to her to count to say nothing of those levied at her parents.

To imply that her father had ‘let her mother off’ by not risking her life and insisting on a son, and that her mother was a failure as a result.

No, it wasn’t an implication, the bitch had stated it outright.

If the mother had so little compunction about openly insulting her to her face before she was married, what would she be like once she was her son’s legal property?