Chapter 1

Year 863, 89th day of summer.

I am up at dawn, writing a letter.

Liam, our plan has failed. It’s been decided that I will go to the convent by train this morning. We depart at dawn. Surveillance has intensified so much that I’m not even sure if I can deliver this letter I’m writing. Oh, Liam, please forgive me. I feel like I’ve been entranced by something for the past few weeks. You may condemn me as a thoughtless woman, but if I could make a pitiful excuse, it all started for the sake of our love. For the days when you cherished me, and I cherished you. I just can’t understand myself anymore……

The sun was rising. The rush of maids in the hallway startled Belviana, and she crumpled the letter she was writing halfway through. With trembling hands, she hastily added a few sentences, then melted red beeswax to seal the letter tightly. She blew out the candle and barely made it to bed before the door opened without a sound. As the maid drew back all the curtains and opened the window, Belviana huddled under the covers, as if the maid would never find her and the whole affair would pass unnoticed. But the maid gently shook Belviana awake.

“Miss. It’s time to get up, it’s half past seven.”

“I’m up.”

Belviana yawned and stretched as if she had just woken up. But her face was unusually white and pale, and she did not give the impression of someone who had just woken up from a good night’s sleep. The maid noticed the ink marks on Belviana’s hands and handed her a handkerchief dampened with water.

“Wipe it off, anyone would notice if you had something like that on your hands.”

“Oh……. Thanks.”

Belviana blushed and took the handkerchief. The maid let out a loud sigh. She felt sorry for her young lady, who had grown so thin in recent days. It was an awfully ridiculous rumor for an unmarried lady of the count to be gossiped about.

That she had fallen for a mere servant and allowed herself to be touched by him again and again…….

The rumor, which had been floating around without basis, had come to be accepted as absolute truth when Aiden, the Count’s personal servant, disappeared without a trace. The rumor spread like wildfire. When it proved futile to keep a tight lid on the whole of Lester Castle, the Count, and his wife decided to send Belviana to a convent in a hurry. The maid helped Belviana remove her chemise and change into a plain gray dress.

“Do you want me to ask them to prepare some soup and send it up here?”

“I’d rather go downstairs and eat in the dining room, and I have one last thing to say to Lily.”

“Lady Liliette must still be asleep.”

“Can’t I wake her? If I don’t see her now, I don’t know when I’ll see her again.”

The maid hesitated.

“However, I must ask you to leave as quietly as possible, as the Count has asked…… to…….”

Belviana bit her lip; now her father and mother were reluctant to even look at her face. Two weeks ago, they had been showering her with affection, calling her darling Belvie and sweet Belle, but most despairing of all, she had been denied even the excuse to make one last trip to the secret place where she kept her letters. Belviana ran her fingertips over the letters in her arms.

Liam, of all people. Only to him could she confess her sins in person and ask for forgiveness. At least he had a right to know.

Why she had fallen into the clutches of Aiden, that devilish man, and why she had succumbed to his whispers……….

* * *

Belviana Eisenach Lester was a girl beloved by the gods. At least it seemed that way in the eyes of the world. She had everything she needed for happiness.

She was the honored daughter of the Lester family, one of the thirteen pillars of the nobility of Battenberg, a tenth of the southern territories, and a beautiful girl who would be hard-pressed to find anyone to rival her, not only in Tivoli but even in the capital city of Berce. Her skin was the color of an exceptionally clear snowflake, and her reddish-rosy hair cascaded down to her waist. Her graceful, lean features, large, round eyes like leaves, and humid green pupils had a deep, concentrated allure that was uncharacteristic of a nineteen-year-old girl.

Aside from a few minor and endearing flaws, she was generally docile and also shy. She wasn’t the most organized person, so she was prone to misplacing things, and while she wasn’t the most assertive, she was often adorably stubborn, never backing down from a decision once she made it.

She was very aware of the value of everything she had and was just arrogant enough to match it. She was always striving to meet the standards her parents set for her, and while she hated herself for it, she sometimes basked in the sense of accomplishment it gave her.

She loved fine and beautiful things. She loved sweet cakes and tea, pretty dresses and social gatherings, and she believed in the kind of destined love that only happens in novels, and that it comes down like a revelation, like a bolt of lightning. Nineteen, as other girls her age often mistakenly believe.

It was a scorching hot summer.

Belviana had just come home for the summer, for her last semester at Branford College for Women. Her first week was spent wandering the shops of the Countess and Dietrich, buying the latest fashions in dresses and lace, hats, fans, and trinkets by the boxful, and the second week was spent frantically attending tea parties and balls hosted by her friends.

After a few weeks of being surrounded by bubbly, sugary sweets, playing cards, and ridiculous masks and feathers, Belviana began to get bored with all the parties. Without a large aristocratic social circle in the South, it was beginning to feel like a game of dress-up or dolls. And the problem started with the shoes.

“Adele, I need you to hold my hand.”

“What happened? Did Ashild step on your foot?”

Belviana, who had gone to the waltz with a reluctant attitude to a man’s ardent courtship, returned exhausted and in need of Adela’s support. She barely made it through the entire waltz, but her foot hurt terribly as if she had scraped it hard somewhere. She limped back to her chair.

“No, no. My shoes are a little strange. I think I scratched it with an awl.”

“My God, Belvy, you’re bleeding from your heel.”

“Oh. I knew it.”

Belviana wrinkled the bridge of her nose. Her skin was unusually light, so she only wore shoes with soft velvet lining that were fitted by a cobbler. Today’s pair, however, was an impulse purchase from a night market last weekend. They were pretty, but of course, they made her feet uncomfortable the entire time she was wearing them, and after dancing three waltzes in a row in them, it was no wonder her heels bled.

“Oh, no. Adele, I think I’ll head back for the night.”

“Are you sure you can go alone? Shall I ask Ben if he’d like to escort you?”

“Sure, but only as far as the carriage. I can go by myself from there.”

“Ben will probably die of joy at the thought of being your escort. Poor Ben. He was over there watching you the whole time you were dancing with Ashild. Ben, this way!”

They laughed under their breath as Ben came running up to them, face to face. After briefly explaining the situation, Belviana placed a hand on his flushed arm.

The carriage was not far away. Just before she stepped into the carriage, he blushed bright red and asked her for the first dance at the next ball, and she replied that she would consider it. Stepping into the carriage with a newfound grace, she buried her weary body in the plush cushions and asked the coachman to take her to Dietrich’s shop.

“Aren’t you going home? You look tired.”

“Let’s stop by the shop and see if they can fix my shoes. They’re so pretty, it would be a shame to throw them away.”

“I’ll try, but it’s late and I don’t know if any shops are open.”

The coachman was right, it was well into the evening. After a couple of laps around the block, the carriage came upon a rundown shoemaker’s shop with its lights still on. As the coachman knocked on the door of the shoemaker’s shop, Belviana crossed her arms over the open window of the carriage and blinked languidly. It was only when she heard a man’s voice answering the knock that she straightened her sagging spine.

“How can I help you? The shop is already closed.”

“The lady wants to have her shoes repaired. It’ll only take a minute. It won’t be difficult.”

“Then wait a moment.”

The man’s voice was deep, sweet, blue as dawn but warm as fire. She didn’t have to wait long before the door opened. The street was dark, and the workshop was so full of light that it seemed as if some haloed angel had suddenly appeared. Belviana swallowed hard at her admiration and studied the man. He had a handsome face, a muscular body hardened by labor, a perfect height, and deep blue eyes. He looked like a completely different class of man than the boring noblemen she was used to. The man scratched his head and spoke.