One
StoriesI read as a child—happy ones filled with magic that had implanted dreams of grandeur—were simply not meant to be.
Childish dreams.
The seamstress tightened the atrocious garment’s bodice, nearly knocking me off the pedestal. I glanced at the full-length mirror and suppressed a cough. The dress, a ghastly shade of pink, fitted with capped sleeves and frills, was more of a napkin. Gold trim accented the bodice, and the sleeves made it better if not for the giant bow between the skirt at the waist.
Mama stated this attire was all the rage in France, resembling the style of Marie Antoniette, but I wonder if it was to draw away from my pale glow.
Burning it seemed more appropriate for the occasion.
“Almost there!” the seamstress gritted through teeth as the last gasp from my lungs emerged from its murky depths.
Mama pressed a handkerchief to my palm, a solemn agreement of my condition.
I coughed precisely into the cloth, aware of the intense stares of the ladies of the ton at large.
One wrong move, and it was all over.
Without glancing at the crimson dotting the cloth, I folded it and placed it back into Mama’s hand.
“William is going to faint when he gets a look at you!” Miriam said as she took my hands.
I ran my thumb on the soft part of her inner wrist, cherishing my innocent sister’s thought. That our situation wasn’t dire. That there was more to it than the singular reason I was to be tied to him. That my dreams should be taken and not hers—never hers.
“I dare say that he is going to be one lucky man tomorrow!” She spun me around, much to the displeasure of the modiste forcing me to stare at our reflection.
Despite being sisters, we do not look much alike. Miriam is like a golden flower with a heart-shaped face beautifully framed by long ashy-blonde hair and plump lips the color of a peony in bloom. Blue eyes that shimmer under long lashes have most suitors trapped in her spell with a charming wink and a cheeky smile. None of the suitors nor Mama understands the cunning side behind her looks. Every detailof her appearance, from her dress to her heavy rouge, is an elaborate part of her master plan to get what she wants.
It was a sight to see and something I’d never replicate. Not since I became a means to an end. Her goals, wants, and needs had become my own since we found ourselves in such dire circumstances.
“Oh, Valeria, you look gorgeous! I’m so jealous.” She squeezed my shoulder, flashing me her award-winning smile, one that hid more than she’d ever let on.
Better you than me, her smile seemed to say.
Mama gripped her cane, accessing the modiste’s work. She nodded. “Better than the dark clothing you seem to wear. Brings out your eyes, darling.”
Choking back a laugh, I was met with the stranger in the mirror, with her hair in neatly pinned curls, strands falling into sad dark-green eyes.
They held the weight of dreams, tired from the burden she carried. They darted around the small shop and took in the stark pallor the sickness had exacerbated on her thinning frame. Illness had taken much of my innocence, leaving her round face sunken. The woman in the reflection was a walking corpse.
I forced my glance away.
I won’t last the year.
The modiste flitted around the shop, gathering materials and fussing with last-minute touches. “There, miss. Although I can’t say this is my finest work, it should do for your special day.”
I turned to Mama, her stern expression unreadable in the tight wrinkles of age that had taken much ofher youth in the past year after Father’s passing given light of our situation.
A tragic story, really. A devastating one if the ladies of the ton found out.
Once upon a time, Boris McCallister was a man of dubious virtue. He had a successful career in managing properties and investing in the newest wonder taking the world by storm.
He married Julia Dryer, a woman from another wealthy family, and had two beautiful daughters. All seemed well as his wealth and success grew exponentially.
But a virtuous man is not without his folly.
Five years ago, Boris had taken to the bottle, much to the surprise and displeasure of his wife, while gambling away their fortunes in the dens so few knew. Further and further, he spiraled into the darkness, which was a complete mystery to his family. Little did they know, his sins would multiply in the form of a bastard and a mistress whose husband was less than pleased by the affair.
