Chapter Seven: The Thorn in her Flesh

Days after the interrupted night was washed in cold grey light and colder silence. Ramon had not returned to her room. Jenny awoke to an emptiness that stung more than anything she'd experienced in the house thus far. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses. Her skin still held the memory of his touch. But the fire had gone out.

And so had he.

When they crossed paths at midday in the hallway, he barely looked at her. His face was unreadable, lips pressed thin, eyes hollow. He muttered something perhaps a greeting, perhaps nothing at all and continued past her.

She turned to look, and he didn't.

Ramon sat in his study, a single glass of scotch untouched before him. His mind reeled.

That night had been a mistake.

Or so he told himself.

Evelyne had cried in his arms, whimpered about shadows and threats. He hadn't seen her bleed. There were no bruises. Yet somehow, her fragility had stirred something familiar in him. Guilt, perhaps. Responsibility.

And Jenny... Jenny had been like a spark in the darkness, her beauty unbound, her eyes wide and honest. The guilt of having touched her lingered like smoke on his skin.

He poured the drink down his throat in one shot.

***

Two days later, the storm broke.

Jenny was summoned to the drawing room, where Evelyne stood, distraught and dramatic.

"My sapphire earrings," she sobbed. "A gift from Lord Ramon himself. Gone. Disappeared from my vanity."

The housekeeper stood stiff beside her, and Ramon behind them both, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

Jenny blinked. "I don't understand."

"They were there two nights ago," Evelyne said, tears trembling on the edges of her voice. "The night I... fell. And then, gone. I trust everyone in this house. But you, you're new. A stranger."

Jenny's stomach clenched. "Are you accusing me?"

"I'm not accusing anyone," Evelyne replied quickly, eyes flicking toward Ramon, "I'm only saying what's obvious."

The housekeeper looked grim. "With permission, my lord, we should check her belongings."

Ramon said nothing.

He didn't even meet Jenny's eyes.

And when they searched her room and found the earrings nestled inside her jewelry box though she knew, knew she had never touched them he still said nothing.

He just turned and walked away.

The punishment was quiet. She was confined to her room for three days. Meals brought in silence. No visitors. No voice.

Jenny sat by the window and watched the rain streak down the glass.

So this, she thought bitterly, is what it means to be a wife in name alone.

***

When she was released, the world outside had grown busier. A ball was approaching one of the season's largest, hosted by the Duke of Merrow. Ramon had been invited, and, as his wife, so had she.

No mention of the accusation remained. As though it were a dream.

Evelyne flitted through the house like royalty. She had already ordered two gowns and new gloves. Ramon said nothing to Jenny, not even to ask if she'd be attending. It was the steward who handed her a purse of coin and instructions to "see the dressmaker."

Jenny took the money without a word.

The town buzzed with the scent of violets and secrets. Jenny walked through the market street, lifting her head in quiet defiance. She needed gowns, gloves, shoes. And dignity.

The shopkeepers stared.

Behind their pleasant smiles were whispers:

"That's the one his wife, yes, poor thing."

"She doesn't look it."

"Not when she's still living with him."

She walked into a modest boutique on the corner of Wilrose Lane. Inside was soft, pastel light and the scent of powder and satin.

That's where she met Lady Grace.

A slender girl about her age, with watery blue eyes and hair like spun gold. She stood by the mirror, struggling to decide between two gowns.

Their eyes met, and Grace offered a shy smile.

"I. Uh. can't decide," she said. "Do you think the blue or the ivory?"

Jenny blinked, surprised. "The blue. It brings out your eyes."

Grace's smile widened. "Thank you. I'm terrible with choices. My mother says I'd marry a snake if he asked nicely."

Jenny laughed laughed, properly for the first time in weeks.

And so began their quiet friendship.

They shopped together, shared compliments, and took tea in the back of the boutique.

Grace had heard the rumors but said nothing.

She just saw Jenny. And that was enough.

Jenny finally settled on a gown of deep rose silk with a corseted bodice and subtle gold embroidery. It shimmered against her skin like candlelight on honey.

When she stepped out into the square, even the whispers paused.

The night of the ball arrived like thunder held behind velvet curtains.

The estate carriage waited at the front steps. Evelyne wore emerald, a necklace of diamonds draped arrogantly over her collarbone. Jenny stepped into the carriage last, her gown rustling like the whisper of summer.

Evelyne watched her, lips curled.

"Oh, almost forgot," she said sweetly, pulling out a velvet box. "Ramon asked me to give this to you."

Jenny opened it.

Inside was a choker white gold, small rubies, delicate craftsmanship.

She blinked.

"He has good taste, doesn't he?" Evelyne drawled. "Of course, this was supposed to be for me, but... he felt pity, I suppose."

Jenny said nothing. But her spine straightened.

She fastened the choker around her neck without flinching.

The ballroom was a palace of light. Chandeliers poured stars over silk and laughter. Music curled through the air like perfume.

Jenny stepped inside, and the world turned.

Heads turned. Conversations paused.

Even Evelyne's smirk faltered.

Ramon was by the fountain, speaking with a cluster of peers. He looked up.

And stared.

Jenny walked past him, the gown hugging her curves, the rubies catching firelight.

He looked stunned.

Not guilty.

Not sorry.

Just... amazed.

"Jenny?" came a voice.

Grace. Her eyes were wide. "You look like a queen."

Jenny smiled, warm and genuine. "Thank you. So do you."

They walked together through the crowd, drawing attention like a pair of stars.

Then a new voice joined them.

"Lady Everhart?"

She turned.

A tall man in navy and silver stood before her. Handsome, with eyes like dusk and a crooked grin.

"Lord Benjamin Fairchild," he said with a bow. "Viscount of Renwick. I believe I have the honor of being your husband's acquaintance... but I dare say he never told me you were so devastating."

Jenny blinked. "He rarely tells anyone anything."

Ben laughed. "Good. That leaves room for mystery. May I have this dance?"

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

As he led her to the floor, she caught Ramon's eyes across the room.

His face was unreadable.

But she saw the tightening of his jaw.

The way he watched her hand in Ben's.

The way his gaze dropped to the choker on her neck and lingered.

And for the first time since she entered his house, Jenny felt a kind of power.

It wasn't love. Not yet.

But it was hers.

And it had begun