"And in exchange?"
"In exchange," Anthea said, savoring the words, "I will purchase your house. The one you currently lease. It will be yours, free andclear. No more annual fees. No more worrying about whether you can afford to maintain it."
She paused, letting the offer sink in.
"You will have financial security," Anthea continued. "A home of your own. Freedom from the constant struggle to maintain appearances on an inadequate income. All I ask is that you let my sisters go."
Beatrice's expression cycled through several emotions—rage, humiliation, calculation, and finally, reluctant acceptance.
"You think you can do so much better than me?" she said, her voice sharp with bitterness. "Fine. They are your burden now. But do not come crying to me when you inevitably fail."
The words should have felt like victory.
Instead, they felt like a curse.
"I will not fail," Anthea said, with more confidence than she felt.
"We shall see." Beatrice moved toward the door, then paused. "You know, I almost pity you. You have always been so certain you knew better than everyone else. So convinced you could save them from me. But you are about to discover that responsibility is far heavier than judgment."
She left without waiting for a response.
Anthea stood alone in the sitting room, her hands trembling slightly.
She had won. Veronica and Poppy would be safe. They would have opportunities, proper dowries, the chance to marry for love rather than obligation.
This was what she had wanted. What she had fought for.
So why did she feel so terrified?
But don't come crying to me when you inevitably fail.
The words echoed in her mind, mixing with older memories. Maxwell's false promises. Her father's disappointment. Years of being told she was not good enough, would never be good enough, was fundamentally incapable of being what others needed.
What if Beatrice was right?
What if she could not do this? Could not be the guardian her sisters needed, could not navigate the complexities of Society well enough to secure their futures?
What if she failed them the way she had almost failed before?
She took a deep breath, forcing the fear down.
She would not fail. She could not afford to fail.
Too much depended on her now.
She returned to the banquet to find Gregory speaking with a group of gentlemen—discussing politics, from the sound of it. He glanced up as she approached, his expression polite but distant.
"Is everything well?" he asked.
"Yes," Anthea said. "Everything is... arranged."
He studied her for a moment, and she thought she saw concern flicker in his eyes. But then one of the gentlemen asked him a question about his military service, and his attention shifted away.
The rest of the banquet passed in a blur. More congratulations. More polite conversation. More performing the role of happy newlyweds while the distance between them seemed to grow with every passing hour.
Finally—mercifully—the guests began to depart.
Anthea stood beside Gregory at the door, thanking people for coming, accepting final congratulations, playing her part until the last carriage rolled away.
