Lady Margret Wilson was sure that her plan had succeeded. Celia was the thorn in her beautifully crafted life. Even though she now knew that her no-good husband couldn't sire a child like her. She had nothing that resembled him. Also, the child was strange.
She did not really want her to be her son's wife, but her son was obsessed with her. She would have to look for another gentlewoman, but for now, Celia would have to be a stand-in.
She sat up on the bed, ready to see that good-for-nothing girl first thing in the morning. She had dressed up and was planning to call on Mrs. White.
However, the one who entered was a brunette. Her hands were trembling and so were the contents on it. Her eyes were on the ground as she gave a hasty bow and walked inside.
"Where is Celia?" Lady Wilson asked, her mood already souring.
The girl kept the tray down and clasped her hand in front.
"She…she…" the girl began to stutter.
