Chapter 2Another Life, Another Favor

A month had passed since I’d arrived at the Hawthorne estate.

After that first day, I hadn’t seen Mrs. Hawthorne at all. Charlotte, on the other hand, I’d occasionally see at the dinner table. Every time, I’d greet him with a sweet, smiling, “Good evening, brother.”

And every time, he’d ignore me completely, not even bothering to lift his gaze from his plate.

I wasn’t angry, or even embarrassed.

Frankly, I didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

My days were scheduled down to the minute, so packed that even breathing felt like a luxury. Mrs. Hawthorne may have been absent, but her orders were not. My life became a whirlwind of lessons in deportment and posture, followed by dance, equestrianism, and every other aristocratic discipline she could think of.

It was supposed to be summer break, a time for rest, but this was more exhausting than school had ever been.

Even Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, looked at the constellation of bruises on my knees with a soft, pitying gaze.

“Miss Elara, are you sure you don’t want to ask Mrs. Hawthorne for a day off?”

I looked down, pulling on my riding boots, and gently shook my head. “There’s no need.”

On my first day, Mrs. Hawthorne had made her expectations crystal clear.

“No child of the Hawthorne family is allowed to be lazy. Even if you aren't my blood, you will not bring shame to this name.”

“Not like that girl at the Mitchells’, playing around all day.”

Mrs. Gable sighed, handing me my satchel. “It’s true. I heard them making a racket this morning. The whole family booked tickets to fly abroad for the summer.”

She was trying to stick up for me, in her own way. She thought a girl my age shouldn’t be cooped up, drilled with these endless, punishing lessons.

I stood and took the bag with a smile. “It’s not a hardship, Mrs. Gable. I want to learn these things.”

Outsiders might see the Hawthorne household as a cold, rigid prison.

But I knew it was an opportunity.

The Hawthornes were old money, with a foundation and network of connections so deep that new-money families like the Mitchells couldn’t hope to touch it, even after decades of trying.

Here, I could learn. I could climb higher.

Even if everyone in this house treated me with cold indifference, even if Mrs. Hawthorne was relentlessly strict, and Charlotte wouldn’t give me the time of day…

Lost in thought, I felt something soft and white brush against my leg. A moment later, a frantic, girlish voice called out.

“Oh, Snowy! Wrong person! Come back!”

“Aiden! Help me catch her!”

“You silly thing.”

I bent down and scooped the small kitten into my arms, straightening up just as a boy walked toward me.

His lips were curved into a smile, his eyes filled with adoration. I recognized him instantly.

It was Aiden Mitchell.