Prim jumped up in her room.
“Yes, a moment.”
She looked once more at herself in the mirror in her room. She was completely naked under the bright sun filtering in through the soft curtains of her room. her childhood room, the one she grew up in, her sanctuary. But who is this woman, standing in front of a mirror, invading it?
It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be the girl with the marks all over her body. She counted them and traced them with her fingers. One crescent mark on the swell of your breast. Another right below, bite marks marring her skin. Another on her waist, an angry bruise that had faded to yellow and green. She foundthe one right under her armpit, a small sucking mark made of lips filled with passion. And then the last one. A big bruise on the inside of her thigh, a perfect, mottled bloom where he had sucked the very breath from her skin.
A map of ruin her body created by the possessive rage of a reckless Duke. And yet, as her fingertips skimmed the sensitive skin of her thigh, it was not shame that pooled in her belly. She did not lament for all laws of propriety, she did not mourn the innocence that lay on the fallen leaves of the maze.
That was the worst part. What she grieved for was the loss of that sensation, of how he made her feel. Of his claim.
“Prim!”
She got dressed in a hurry, having used a million excuses to keep her maid from helping her out. No one would ever see those marks on her body. Onlyhewould know.
“Are you ready, girls?” She said with a bright smile that made her face ache.
“I can’t believe we are going to the modiste with the Duchess of Blackwell!” Camilla clapped.
“Yes, she is so elegant and nice.”
Prim smiled for real this time. Abigail had sent her the invitation, and Prim welcomed the distraction. And wasdelighted that the Duchess included the twins for this outing. It was a lovely way for the Duchess to show her continued support and unofficially sponsor the twins.
Not long after, they heard the unmistakable noise of the carriage stopping outside their mansion. The girls vibrated with excitement. Prime walked out, securing her bonnet on her head.
“Prim! I am so happy to see you,” Abigail said from inside the carriage. “Come, let's not waste the beautiful day. We can even go for an ice cream after.”
Myrtle almost jumped up with excitement. Prim smiled softly, some of her burdens lightened. So, this is what it is to have someone supporting you truly? Once more, she was grateful for Abigail's friendship.
They entered the carriage and traveled through London. Abigail had a modiste that she liked very much.
“I must warn you, Prim. Madame Sybil is a little…difficult. Not that you need to worry. We have an understanding and mutual respect.”
“Difficult?”
“Or is it particular? Anyway, she’s a genius, and you will love her. And somehow I know she will love you.”
“Thank you so much for doing this, Abigail. It means the world to me. You have no idea how much I needed this outing.”
“I can see that you are tense. Is there something I can do?”
“No, no. Just the… lingering pressure of the scandal, you know.”
She hated lying to her only friend. But she could never explain the truth. Not even Abigail would understand the war being waged beneath her skin, between the shame of the marks and the treacherous, aching hunger for the man who had put them there.
They reached the shop, and they went inside. Prim could see from the moment she stepped inside that this was indeed the lair of a genius. At that particular moment, the shop was empty, and Prim could marvel at the designs on dolls, the fabrics, and the threads. The twins clapped and lost themselves around the shelves heavy with rolls of fabric.
“Abigail!”
A woman twice their age and twice their vitality emerged. Her still red hair was in a bun, and her green eyes shone with joy as she took off her glasses and looked upon Abigail.
“Madame Sybil.”
Prim regarded with surprise the lack of decorum between the two women. Abigail noticed her confusion and laughed.
“Madame Sybil has been a particular part of mine and Edwin’s story. You see, back when we were… Well, that is quite difficult to explain. Anyway, Edwin came to Madame Sybil to ask her to give me her dresses at a discount. I was not always a Duchess, you know.”
“More accurately,” Madame Sybil said with a cold tone, “he came in and said that I should tell you that the dresses cost less, and he paid the difference.”
