Chapter Nine: Strong Will

The days after Jenny received the letter from Norchester unfolded slowly, like the edge of a blade being drawn from its sheath. With every glance, every veiled insult from Evelyne, every dismissive nod from Lord Ramon, Jenny's silence sharpened into something else—resolve.

She waited.

Waited for the right moment to strike.

Ramon had not been himself. His restlessness grew worse with each passing day. The mornings, once filled with calm routine, now brought a cloying tension. He noticed Jenny's changes, not just in her gowns or the way her voice carried a steady calm, but in the way others looked at her.

Servants bowed more deeply.

Guests lingered longer in her presence.

And worst of all, Ben continued to call.

Ramon sat at his desk one evening, glass of whisky in hand, fingers drumming the wood. Evelyne entered uninvited, wearing a sapphire gown that clung to her like seaweed.

"You haven't visited me in three nights," she purred.

"I've been busy," he replied.

"With your wife?" she asked, sitting on the arm of his chair.

He didn't answer.

She slid her hand along his shoulder. "You're getting distracted."

"Don't mistake distance for distraction."

Evelyne leaned in. "She's making a fool of you, Ramon. Parading around with Fairchild. Do you really think he's interested in her mind?"

Something in him twisted.

He stood abruptly. "Leave."

Her eyes narrowed. "You'll regret this."

He didn't reply. The door closed behind her with a thud.

Jenny sat with Lady Grace in the east garden, where the sunlight slipped through the vines like shy laughter. Grace had become a regular companion quiet, thoughtful, sincere. She never asked probing questions, which made Jenny all the more willing to speak.

They talked of books, of the ball, of society's silliness. And then, finally, of Ben.

"He's fond of you," Grace said, smiling softly.

Jenny looked at her hands. "He's kind."

"Kindness is no small thing in this world."

Jenny hesitated, then said, "He's different from the others. He doesn't treat me like a shadow."

Grace's face grew somber. "Be careful, Jenny. Men like Ramon don't let go easily, even when they've never truly held you."

Jenny nodded, her eyes drifting to the gate where Ben's carriage had once waited. "I won't be caught off guard."

That afternoon, she saw her opportunity.

Evelyne was laughing loudly in the drawing room, surrounded by guests. She had just finished recounting a tale of her 'childhood summers in Lyon' a lie, if Jenny's letter was to be trusted.

Jenny waited until the room quieted, then stepped forward.

"Lyon?" she asked sweetly. "Wasn't your family parish in Norchester?"

The silence that followed was a symphony.

Evelyne's smile faltered.

Jenny continued. "I've always wanted to visit St. Jude's. My governess once told me it was a humble church, but full of heart."

Evelyne's fingers clenched the edge of her chair. "I don't know what you're implying."

"I'm not implying anything," Jenny said, her voice gentle. "Only that you must miss your mother's seamstress shop. Does she still embroider by hand?"

Gasps rippled.

Evelyne stood. "You vile little"

"I only meant to understand your roots," Jenny said, eyes shining with innocence.

The room buzzed as Evelyne stormed out.

And Jenny knew: she had drawn blood.

Later, Ben arrived unannounced.

Jenny met him in the garden, cheeks flushed from the confrontation.

"You look like you've just won a duel," he said.

She smiled. "I did. Without lifting a blade."

He offered her his arm, and they walked among the roses.

"Will you come riding with me tomorrow?" he asked.

"I've never ridden before."

"I'll teach you."

Jenny hesitated. "Ramon"

"Is not your jailer."

She looked at him. "No. But he is my husband."

Ben's expression softened. "Then let's just ride. As friends."

"Friends," she repeated.

And yet the way his hand lingered on hers suggested something far more dangerous.

The next morning, she met Ben at the stables. Her gown was simple but fitted, her hair braided loosely. He looked at her like one might a sunrise they hadn't expected.

He helped her onto the mare, his hand on her waist sparking something low and curious in her belly.

They rode slowly at first, the countryside stretching out like a promise. The wind pulled at her braid. She laughed.

"You're free here," Ben said, watching her.

"Only for a moment," she replied.

They stopped near a creek. He dismounted and helped her down, his hands warm. She didn't pull away.

"Do you miss your old life?" he asked.

"I never had a life to miss," she said. "Just survival."

He brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "Then what would you call this?"

"New," she whispered.

And though no kiss passed between them, the air between their lips vibrated with what could have been.

When Jenny returned, she found Ramon waiting in her drawing room.

His coat was off, his cravat loosened. He looked like a man unraveling.

"You were out," he said.

"Yes."

"With him?"

She didn't answer.

He stepped closer. "You've humiliated Evelyne."

"She humiliated herself."

He paced, fists clenched. "Do you think this is a game?"

"No. I think this is my life."

He stopped. "You're not the woman I married."

She stepped forward. "No. I'm not."

He stared at her. For a moment, it looked like he might reach for her.

Instead, he turned and left.

That night, Jenny stood by the mirror brushing her hair. The silence in her room felt different like space that belonged to her.

There was a knock.

She turned. "Come in."

It was Ramon.

His eyes were red. His shirt slightly untucked. He looked both furious and lost.

"Why him?" he asked.

She blinked. "Why her?"

He swallowed. "Because I didn't have a choice."

"You still don't," she said quietly. "Unless you choose me. Fully."

He took a step closer. "You were never supposed to matter this much."

She put the brush down. "Then why do I?"

Silence.

He took another step. Then another. His hand touched her hair.

She didn't move.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmured.

"Yet you let them punish me."

His face twisted. "I thought "

"You didn't think," she interrupted. "You felt. For her. Not for me."

His hand dropped.

"I need time," he said.

"Time is not a luxury I afford fools."

He looked at her, stricken.

And then walked out.

Alone again, Jenny went to her journal. She pulled out the Norchester letter.

The embers of truth had caught fire.

Soon, it would all burn down.

And she would still be standing