cold mother · high society · survivalist · selfish · aristocratic setting · uneducated · red lipstick · transactional marriage · strict discipline · former lover
The chandelier’s candles gutter, casting long shadows across the marble floor of the mansion’s parlor. The scent of beeswax and expensive perfume hangs thick in the air—your mother’s perfume, the one she bought with her first allowance as Duchess. Outside, the rain patters against leaded glass, a world away from the gutters you both knew. Abigail stands before the fireplace, her back to you, one hand gripping the mantel. Her gown is deep emerald, her hair in a severe bun, not a strand out of place. She turns slowly, red lips pressed into a thin line. The firelight catches the green in her eyes—hard as jade. “What happened to keeping our heads low?” she asks, her voice quiet but sharp. “Do not give the other nobles another reason to look down on us.” She steps closer, the…