Rumors, rumors, rumors. Belviana set her teacup down, suppressing the urge to scowl. Ironically, just a few weeks ago, it had been gossip like this that she’d been the first to get worked up about. From the flirty romances to the backstabbing, backwards rumors, it was all in her ears and mouth. But now she was sick of it all. The faces of the young ladies had already become hard masks. The conversation turned to more intimate matters. The Lady of Benzley, who was engaged to be married this fall, blushed and said shyly.

“I heard it hurts like that when you first accept a man…….”

“It’s said that men can’t do it when it hurts until the end.”

A choked chuckle drifted across the table at a lady’s defiant reply.

“I guess it takes a lot of experience to do that, and it’s not easy for a man to do it for the first time.”

“Then, do you ladies prefer a future husband who is experienced and skilled, or one who is new to this and gradually becomes skilled?”

“I would rather prefer someone who is skilled.”

“Me too, it must be as good as it sounds in the novels, right?”

The young ladies without fiancés added their own words, shyly but boldly. Belviana felt Adela kick her leg and unfurled her fan to cover half her face. She must have made a very bad face given that Adela kicked her under the table. At the words of girls who knew nothing about about such things, memories of yesterday came flooding back.

The hot breath on the nape of her neck, the hands on her naked back, the sensation of being pushed down tight, the pent-up sexuality……. How many women had Aiden taken before he’d gotten so good at it? The thought of giving her first to a worn and tattered man made even the food she’d eaten so well rise up her throat again. Her fingertips pressed hard against her weakly quivering hand.

“I’d rather someone who’s inexperienced.”

Liliette’s voice was husky, and the obvious possessiveness and obsession in it made the women at the table turn to look at her. Unfazed by the stares, Liliette finished her teacup.

“I’d rather him inexperienced than to think the man I love embraced another woman, even if it’s just for practice, and if I’m not going to have him, I’d rather no one have him.”

“…….”

“I tend to be a bit greedy.”

Liliette laughed smoothly, moistening her lips with the cold tea. The pupils of her eyes, visible through her narrow smile, were very cold. Clear hostility and frosty jealousy. Belviana realized instinctively that Liliette had seen something last night, or had gained some reason to suspect it.

Her heart beat very fast. But there couldn’t be any real physical evidence left, and even if there was, no woman would be crazy enough to start a rumor to slander Lester’s daughter. Especially not one who would soon bear the family name to her own. And when the time was right for Liliette, she would have long since fled where she could not be found. Belviana forced a smile.

* * *

Time passed quickly, or slowly. Slow, considering that only four days had passed since the banquet, and fast, considering that the wedding preparations were coming to a close. It was still ten days before the train to Millton left, or in other words, her wedding was only ten days away.

In fact, as the date approached, Belviana’s necessary preparations were nearly complete, and since the banquet she had been living a very leisurely life. More time meant more time for planning.

Belviana organized many things in a discreet manner. Under her bed, an old, loose plank of wood opened to reveal a secret compartment. In a suitcase hidden underneath, Belviana carefully packed money, jewelry, and five of her favorite dresses. Lena, a kind but shrewd girl, is a great help.

Letters from Liam came now and then. Sometimes there would be a long, anxiety-inducing absence, then two in as little as five days. His last update was that he had booked a temporary hotel in Millton and had found a village hundreds of miles from there to settle in. Liam had already contracted with a shoemaker’s shop in the town. Belviana had asked Lena to send him a small diamond for the down payment.

With a sigh, Belviana hid the letter from Liam among her thick books. Aiden hadn’t touched any of Liam’s letters since the first incident, but he didn’t seem to know what they contained. Of course, it was probably just her delusion that he knew the contents of a letter he hadn’t even seen, but it couldn’t hurt to be cautious; he would be coming for her soon.

Her relationship with Aiden was beginning to feel like a familiar routine. Aside from the initial shock, the first act had actually allowed her to be more free of the moral compass she’d set for herself. The first time is always the hardest.

Not a day went by that Aiden didn’t come to her room, even when she was busy fulfilling the Count’s wishes. Usually with a sleep-drugged maid in the next room. Worst of all, she always came at the end, clinging to him in a frenzy of excitement. It was the height of immorality and shame.

“Belviana.”

She hadn’t heard the door open, so she dropped her book in surprise at the sudden sound of Aiden’s voice. The book rolled away with a dull thud, cutting painfully into the back of her foot. Belviana groaned in pain.

“Are you hurt?”

Aiden rushed over, picked up the book from the floor, and examined her. In his haste, he carelessly nudged the sleeping maid in the doorway, but instead of waking up, she began to snore loudly.

Since the Countess had noticed, her surveillance had become stricter, and the maids who guarded her room changed daily, but unfortunately none of that seemed to deter Aiden in the slightest. He came in like a shadow at the same time every night. It didn’t matter that the doors were double-locked and the hallways guarded by trained soldiers.

Aiden had long since gained possession of all the keys to the manor, and he knew all the hidden passageways that the Count did not. He could roam every inch of Lester Castle like an insubstantial demon. Perhaps, if he had his way, he could have invaded the Countess’s bathroom. Belviana tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’m not hurt.”

“The book is quite thick.”

“It only grazed me a little. It doesn’t hurt.”

“The top of your feet are swollen. Here, sit down.”

“Really, it-it’s okay…….”

Belviana hurriedly backed away from Aiden as he approached, nearly falling to the floor in a heap. His arms wrapped around her slender waist before she could grab hold of the nightstand. He pulled her firmly into his arms. A shaky gasp escaped her lips.

“You should have been careful.”

His voice whispered in her ear, softer than usual. His arm was firm against her thin negligee. Belviana followed his lead and sat down on the edge of the bed, pressed up against it. Aiden knelt hesitantly at her feet and hiked up her skirt. She flinched, but his hand stopped at her calf, as if the sensitivity of her reaction hadn’t been enough. Aiden gently wrapped his hand around her foot.

“They’ll be swollen by tomorrow. You have fragile skin as it is.”

The red mark on her instep looked like a brutal wound at first glance. Aiden held her foot firmly in place with a linen handkerchief he’d pulled from his bosom. It wasn’t hard to imagibe Liam at the touch of his callused palms. Specifically, the very moment she’d first met him, with Aiden overlaid on top. Belviana bit down hard on her trembling lip.

It had been well over twenty days since she’d mixed flesh with Aiden, shared sensations with him. Her emotions sometimes spiraled out of her control; he could drive her to the edge of her seat like a lowly whore, or he could show her the most out-of-this-world adoration.

Her feelings for Aiden were like a portrait that had been smeared with all sorts of paints. Strange colors she couldn’t quite name blossomed over a dark, intense base of hatred, contempt, resentment, and loathing, but they were there, faint but unmistakable.

Aiden wrapped both hands around her feet and lifted it. He kissed her white instep exposed through the linen; she felt a hot, molten sensation.

It was a sensation she’d grown accustomed to spending nights with him. Nights and nights and nights, many of them. Many, long, and short. The man kneeling at her feet looked chiseled and beautiful, made even more so by his shadowed face. A satisfaction and possessiveness she dared not acknowledge consumed her like a snake.