The next morning, Rosa wasted no time in summoning May, the maid who served as a spy for Marquess Blackthorn. May entered with a stoic expression that grated on Rosa's nerves, but she pushed aside her disdain for the moment.
"Is your breakfast not to your liking, My Lady?" May inquired dutifully.
Rosa gestured dismissively at her untouched meal. "I'm not hungry. Take it away. Where is my personal maid?"
"The butler is training her," May replied with a grimace.
So the butler had dismissed an untrained maid the previous day? "...Fetch her and bring her here. I need her assistance in putting on one of the dresses I purchased yesterday. Also, send an invitation to Marquess Blackthorn."
May's mouth dropped open in surprise.
"What kind of foolish expression is that to wear in front of nobility?" Rosa chided sharply.
May quickly recovered, "What should the invitation say, My Lady?"
"Simply that I expect him this afternoon. That will suffice."
Rosa dismissed the maid with a casual wave and turned towards the window listening to the sounds of the breakfast tray being gathered and the door clicking shut.
"Come out, Silver," she murmured.
He emerged from behind the brown curtain, his usually composed face etched with worry.
"You must be wondering why I'm inviting that manwho*e."
"We could take him out today. I can handle it personally."
"But where's the fun in that?" A playful smile touched her lips, but the smile turned into a straight line when Silver didn't reciprocate her amusement. Closing the distance between them, she reached out and placed the palm of her hand on his cheek.
"You and I go way back," she said softly. "You've seen firsthand how I built our empire of informants—from beggars turned spies to maids and servants gathering intel from the gilded halls of the nobles." Her hand fell to her side. "Have you forgotten how strong I am?"
"No," he replied regretfully.
She glared at him. "Then are you looking down on your Master?"
He lowered his head until she couldn't see his face. Hating to see him like this, she patted his hair once before turning away then walking to her bed and sitting down.
"The streets must be buzzing about my visit to the guild last night. I only went there to protect my true identity. I never planned to stand by as that son of a bit*h walks all over Elara." She held herself feeling a chill as she remembered the last moments of Elara's life. "...Will he even have the nerve to show his face after trying to kill her?"
"Trying? Elara is dead, Master." Silver corrected.
Rosa frowned. "Right... She is dead." Rubbing her forehead, she pondered when she had begun to see herself as one with her twin sister. "Keep your ears open for any gossip linking me to the Duke or the Western guild and continue investigating the Count's relationship with the Marquess. I'll handle things here."
Rosa spent the next hours dolling herself up before settling down for tea in the secluded garden annexed to the manor's southern side. It was a small triumph for her to reconnect with Roxan, the young maid she had reinstated. As she suspected, Roxan stood out from the other maids due to her genuine intentions toward Elara.
With the Marquess's visit looming closer, Rosa's heart sank further with each passing minute. She finally summoned the red-headed knight who had been quick to draw his sword at the mere suggestion of poison from the chef. He entered confidently and greeted her with a fist over his heart.
"You summoned me, My Lady?"
Sipping her herbal tea, she studied him once more noting his improved posture and healthier complexion after a few days of proper meals.
"Remind me of your name."
"Cedric Ashford, at your service."
Rosa was already familiar with the four knights and their backgrounds, including the Ashfords—a fallen noble house that took pride in providing young knights to the Kingdom. Guided by her sharp intuition honed over years of living in the backstreets, Rosa decided to keep Cedric close whenever the Marquess was in her presence. It would do everyone good to remember that I am the sole heiress of a Count.
"Sir Cedric, Marquess Blackthorn will be arriving shortly." She looked deep into his light brown eyes and allowed her own to shimmer with tears. "Will you protect me?"
Cedric's eyes widened slightly before a faint flush colored his ears and neck. He pressed his fist to his heart once more and nodded earnestly. "I shall be your shield and sword at all times, My Lady."
"Then consider this an order that surpasses any I might give you under coercion tonight: you shall not, under any circumstances, leave my side."
"My life is yours to command, Lady Highmore."
Taking up her tea cup again, she reclined in her seat and focused on the assortment of pastries before her. The loyalty of a knight to his noble lady is indeed perplexing. What she would have reprimanded her informants for saying was precisely what she needed to hear from Cedric Ashford.
"Ahem!" The butler cleared his throat loudly upon entering the room. "My Lady, Marquess Gideon Blackthorn has arrived."
Rosa's blood ran cold. "Is he alone?"
The butler's lips trembled. "N-No, My Lady. Miss Vivienne Moreau is accompanying him…again."
That vile, dishonorable scoundrel!
"Show them in," she commanded with a voice thick with repulsion and observed as her knight and maid positioned themselves on either side of her.
Marquess Gideon Blackthorn entered the Count's drawing room with an arrogant swagger. He appeared to be in his late forties, short and stout with his bald head gleaming under the afternoon sunlight. He wore gaudy, mismatched colors and jewelry, a laughable attempt to compensate for his lack of stature. His mistress, Vivienne Moreau, clung to his arm possessively, her raven-black hair falling next to yet not covering her cleavage, and the smug smile never leaving her bright crimson lips.
"Greetings, My Lord," Rosa greeted calmly, focusing her attention solely on him as he entered.
Without a word, Gideon dropped into a seat across from Rosa and looked as if he was trying his best to exude authority. Vivienne followed suit, her emerald eyes full of envy as she eyed the huge painting of Elara Highmore behind their table.
When the Marquess extended his hand, Rosa suppressed her revulsion and placed her gloved hand on his.
"My beautiful Elara," he murmured, licking his dry lips and lingering a moment too long on the back of her gloved hand.
She forced a smile yet inwardly recoiled at the imagined sensation of insects crawling on her skin. The thought of burning the gloves he had kissed was the only thing that consoled her as she endured his presence in her manor.
"I am a very busy man, but I came running when you called for me."
"How very courteous of you, My Lord," she replied through gritted teeth, silently cursing him. "Please, help yourself to the refreshments I've prepared. I hope they meet your expectations."
He released her hand and reached for a pastry then spoke with his mouth full of cream. "So? Have you finally changed your mind?" he asked crudely.
Not a word escaped Rosa's lips. It's showtime.
"Don't toy with me, woman," Gideon snapped, his mouth still full. "If you've changed your mind, dismiss your entourage and let us begin."