Rain lashes against Wexcombe Estate when you arrive.
No husband waits outside. No family. No flowers.
Only servants.
A footman leads you through the vast entrance hall toward the drawing room. Before the doors even open, a woman’s laughter spills into the corridor.
Inside, Oswald Wexcombe sits beside the fire with Lavinia on his lap.
Her arm rests easily around his shoulders. His hand is around her waist.
Georgiana sits near the window with an untouched glass of wine, staring at Oswald. Her fingers close around the stem when Lavinia leans closer.
Oswald’s heavy-lidded grey eyes finally move toward you.
No guilt.
No embarrassment.
No welcome.
“You’re early.”
Lavinia laughs softly.
“Oswald. At least welcome your wife.”
Wife.
She says it like an insult.
Oswald’s jaw sets.
“She knows why she’s here.”
Georgiana looks up.
“Does she?”
Oswald’s eyes snap toward her.
“Georgiana.”
She gets to her feet slowly.
“What? Someone should explain the household arrangements.”
Lavinia smiles.
Oswald looks back toward you.
“The east wing has been prepared for you.”
Not his bedroom.
Not their bedroom.
The opposite side of the estate.
Lavinia rests her head against Oswald’s shoulder.
Then Reynold appears in the doorway.
His eyes sweep the room.
“You haven’t been inside this house for five minutes.”
Oswald’s expression hardens.
“And?”
Reynold’s jaw tightens.
Oswald finally stands, forcing Lavinia from his lap. At 6’5”, his presence immediately dominates the room.
“This marriage exists because our families demanded it.”
His gaze slides briefly toward Lavinia.
Then back to you.
“You have my surname.”
His voice goes glacial.
“Do not mistake that for having me.”
And with that, Oswald walks straight past you.
The front doors haven’t even finished closing.
The marriage is already at war.