39. Claire
Claire
The next morning, I woke up with a purpose. Not a good purpose. Not a noble one. But a purpose all the same.
I was going to make Garrick’s life a living nightmare.
If he thought he was getting a quiet, agreeable bride who would sit prettily at his side and smile on command, he had made a grave miscalculation. I was done being polite and trying to make sense of this situation or seeing it as anything other than what it was—a mistake.
And I intended to correct it. With enthusiasm.
I sat up in bed, already building my list. First, perhaps I would follow him around and gently but relentlessly correct his manners. “Oh, is that how you hold a teacup here? How fascinating.” Yes. Subtle, yet devastating.
Second, I would rearrange everything. Vases, chairs, entire rooms if I could manage it. Somewhere in this house there had to be a sense of order Garrick valued.
I would find it.
And I would destroy it.
Third, I would embroider specifically with very pointed messages. Nothing crude, of course. I wasn’t cruel. But subtle phrases stitched into handkerchiefs, pillowcases, perhaps even his own shirts—
I would rather be anywhere else.
This is a mistake.
Release me or suffer the consequences of my passive-aggressive handiwork.
Yes. That last one had potential.
And if all else failed, I could simply ask him deeply inconvenient questions at the worst times imaginable.
Perhaps while he was mid-bite, I could lean in and ask, “Do you think people can truly love someone they’ve essentially purchased?
” Yes. That should ruin at least one meal or cause some form of indigestion.
That alone might drive him to reconsider the entire arrangement.
A small, satisfied smile reached my lips as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I didn’t bother dressing elaborately. If I was going to be a problem, I might as well look the part. I squared my shoulders and marched toward the door like a woman about to wage war.
Because I was.
The door creaked open, and I stopped. Maids rushed back and forth carrying folded linens, trays, and armfuls of things I couldn’t quite make sense of.
One nearly collided with me, gasping before darting around me without so much as a second glance.
This did not look like a house preparing for a peaceful morning.
“What’s going on?” I asked the nearest maid.
She shook her head quickly. “I-I’m not sure, miss,” she answered, though her tone suggested she absolutely knew and simply wasn’t going to tell me. “Orders from His Grace.”
I gathered my skirts and hurried down the hall.
Something wasn’t right. I could feel it.
By the time I reached the foyer, Garrick sat at the long table as if nothing in the world were amiss, a plate of breakfast laid neatly before him.
He looked maddeningly composed, as though the quiet chaos of his household had nothing to do with him at all.
He glanced up as I approached, his gaze settling on me with mild interest.
“Ah,” he said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “You’re awake.”
I stopped a few paces from the table, my hands curling into my skirts. “What’s happening?”
Garrick tilted his head, as if considering how best to answer. Then, casually, as though commenting on the weather:
“You’re free to go.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.
“I—what?”
He set the napkin aside, folding it with precise care. “You heard me.”
“You’re… releasing me?”
“Yes.”
Just like that. No conditions. No explanation. Nothing? My mind scrambled to catch up, to make sense of it, to find the catch I was certain had to be there.
“Why?”
An unreadable flicker passed over his expression, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
“Because I’ve decided to,” he said simply.
“That doesn’t—” I took a step forward, my voice rising despite myself. “You don’t just decide something like this overnight.”
“I can,” he reached for his cup. “And I have.”
“What about—” My voice faltered before I could stop it. “What about Ash?”
Garrick’s gaze flicked to mine.
“Your concern for her is… noted. But I suggest you focus on your own good fortune.”
“Where is she?” I pressed.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his drink, as if savoring the moment. Then, setting the cup down, he met my gaze.
“She is no longer your concern.”
A chill slid down my spine.
“Go,” Garrick added, gesturing toward the door. “Before I change my mind.”
My breath caught. This was what I wanted. The chance to walk out of this place and never look back. So why did it feel like I was leaving something behind? I hesitated, my feet rooted to the floor.
Garrick’s expression darkened.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
I let my gaze linger longer than I should have on Garrick. On the sharp line of his jaw, the careful trim of his mustache, the polished ease in the way he held himself. The rings on his fingers caught the morning light, glinting as he reached for his cup.
Then, I turned away. The hallway stretched before me, all high ceilings and elegant archways, sunlight spilling in through tall windows that painted everything gold. It was beautiful.
But it was a cage.
My footsteps echoed loudly against the polished floors as I walked too fast as if I stopping for even a second might keep me from starting again. I ran before Garrick changed his mind. I didn’t breathe until I reached the front doors and pushed them open.
The air hit me all at once, and my chest expanded in an expansive inhale, like I’d been underwater and had only just broken the surface.
There, at the base of the steps, sat my suitcase. Pathetic, really. Everything else I owned had gone up in smoke the night of the fire. All that remained of my life fit neatly into a single case, left outside like I had already been forgotten.
This couldn’t be real. With trembling fingers, I reached down and dug my nails into the inside of my arm.
Pain bloomed, sharp and grounding, but when I pulled my hand away, nothing changed.
Still here. Still happening. A strange, hollow numbness spread through my veins, pooling in my chest. Had Garrick finally decided I was too much trouble and that it would simply be easier to hunt down a compliant bride elsewhere?
My thoughts snagged on Ash and her private conversation with Garrick. The way they had stood so close, voices low and inaudible, Garrick’s amusement fading into thoughtfulness. The way Ash hadn’t looked at anyone else. Hadn’t even looked at me.
No.
My grip tightened on the handle of my suitcase.
Would Ash have found some way to free me from my mother’s debt?
Or had she offered herself instead? The thought hit like a blow. I swallowed hard, forcing it down and forcing my feet to move.
I lifted my suitcase and descended the steps, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes as I walked down the long, immaculate driveway. The hedges stood perfectly trimmed on either side, symmetrical and pristine, like everything else Garrick owned.
At the gates, I stopped just for a second. I turned, casting one last, withering glare back at the estate.
“I hope you choke on your breakfast,” I muttered under my breath.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
But it was something.
Then I stepped through the gates and didn’t look back.
Norwich was less welcoming than I had hoped. By the time I reached the edge of town, my arm ached from dragging my suitcase, and my patience had worn dangerously thin.
The first carriage passed me without so much as a glance.
The second slowed, and then the driver took one look at me and urged his horses forward without a word. The third didn’t even pretend.
“Please!” I called after the fourth, breathless, stepping into the road just enough to force him to notice me.
He scowled.
“No room,” he snapped, though the carriage behind him was clearly empty.
I stared after him, aghast.
“Lovely city,” I muttered.
It wasn’t until the fifth that someone finally relented—a young man with kind eyes and an uncertain smile.
“Where to, miss?” he asked.
“The patrol office.”
His hesitation was immediate.
“Please,” I added. “I need to go there.”
He studied me for a moment longer, then clicked his tongue, urging the horses forward. The ride felt too long. My chest tightened with every turn of the wheel, winding tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe.
By the time we stopped, I was already halfway out of the carriage.
“Thank you,” I said, not waiting for a response before hurrying toward the building.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the wood creaking beneath my hand. The patrol office was quieter than I expected. A single guard sat behind a tall desk. He didn’t straighten when he saw me. Didn’t move at all, really. I had to rise onto my toes just to peer over the edge of the desk.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone.”
The guard blinked, unimpressed. “Aren’t we all. Just no more giant bunnies or rogue alchemists,” he muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“The woman I’m looking for was brought in yesterday. She has dark hair, cuffs, and she probably caused a bit of trouble. Her name is Ash.”
No reaction.
My heart began to pound.
“Where is she?”
The guard shifted, finally glancing at me, but his expression closed off almost immediately.
“Don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“That’s not true,” I snapped.
“Miss, I suggest you—”
“Please,” I cut in, my voice sharper now, desperate. “She was here. I know she was here. I need to see her.”
He looked away. That was all the confirmation I needed.
My fingers tightened on the desk. “What happened to her?”
Silence.
“Did you move her?” I pressed. “Is she hurt? Is she—”
“She’s not here,” he said finally, his tone clipped.
“Then where is she?” I demanded.
The guard hesitated.
“She’s not here,” he repeated.
“That’s not an answer.” I leaned forward, my voice dropping. “Tell me.”
Something in my expression must have shifted because the guard’s composure cracked. He exhaled through his nose.
“She was released.”
My heart skipped. “What?”
“First thing this morning.”
“By who?” I asked, though I already felt the answer forming, cold and certain, in the pit of my stomach.
The guard’s eyes flicked away.
My teeth ground together. “It wouldn’t have been Duke Halloway, by any chance, who freed her, would it?”
The look in the guard’s eyes said everything. I was right. And suddenly, that hollow numbness shattered into terror.
Because Ash hadn’t been released.
She had been traded.