Author's Preface
Location: Ashford Estate Garden Path → Cruelton Manor
Dinner concluded shortly after that.
I ate the fish.
Not because my conscience was soothed—but because Lady Ashford watched me with the sharp, unblinking focus of a woman who would personally see me escorted out if I so much as whimpered again about aquatic families or impromptu funerals.
Her eyes had promised violence. Silent, aristocratic violence conducted with impeccable manners, but violence nonetheless.
So I ate the fish.
It was delicious.
Damn him.
The family of three escorted me to the garden—a formal procession down the lamplit path that felt more like a prisoner exchange than a polite departure.
“My husband sends his apologies that he couldn’t join us this evening,” Lady Ashford said with a gracious tone that barely masked her relief at my imminent departure. “He had to attend to urgent matters.”
I curtsied, keeping my expression appropriately demure. “No problem, Your Grace. It was a memorable dinner.”
“Yes,” Lady Ashford agreed immediately, rising with barely suppressed eagerness. “Quite unforgettable. Lady Beatrice, do convey my regards to your father. At length. From a distance. A considerable distance.”
I stood as well, smoothing my gloves with deliberate slowness. “Of course, Your Grace. I wouldn’t dream of lingering.”
Her smile was immediate. Radiant, even. The smile reserved for unexpected gifts and narrow escapes.
If she could have opened the carriage door herself and physically pushed me through it, she absolutely would have.
Theodore cleared his throat. “I’ll see Lady Beatrice home.”
Lady Ashford didn’t even hesitate. “Splendid idea.”
She turned and walked back down the flowered path with purposeful strides, her maids hurrying after her like she was fleeing a natural disaster.
Elizabeth waved brightly at me—a cheerful, conspiratorial gesture—then threw Theodore a loaded look I couldn’t quite decipher before hurrying after her mother.
I sighed internally. Well. Who knew I wouldn’t get kicked out?
Theodore stretched out his hand, guiding me toward the waiting carriage with that same calm courtesy he seemed to apply to everything.
“I’ll take it from here,” I said, pulling my hand away as we reached the carriage steps. “You can go back inside.”
He shook his head, his expression patient. “I couldn’t possibly send a lady home alone this late in the evening.”
I was too tired to argue with him. Too mentally exhausted from maintaining peak insufferability for three solid hours.
“Fine,” I muttered, accepting his hand to step into the carriage.
Inside the Carriage
Moments later, the carriage door shut with a decisive click, sealing us inside together.
The lights blurred past the window as the horses moved at a steady, unhurried pace. The carriage felt smaller with Theodore in it, his presence taking up more space than his physical form should reasonably occupy.
I looked away, keeping my expression carefully bored, staring out the window at the darkened streets.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.
The System chimed with obnoxious cheerfulness:
{SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
QUEST COMPLETE! 🎉
Objective: Attend Ashford Dinner Without Revealing Transmigration
Status: SUCCESS
Reward: three thousand Hatred Points
Current Balance: twenty two thousand two hundred and ten pounds }
I bit back a smile. At least something had gone according to plan.
Then Theodore said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, “You ate the fish.”
“I did,” I replied without looking at him. “I decided its family would want me to be strong.”
He huffed—a small, unmistakable sound of laughter—then caught himself, as if surprised by his own reaction.
Silence settled again, but different this time. Heavier. More charged.
I could feel him watching me. Could practically hear the calculations happening behind those too-perceptive eyes.
“I’ve been watching you,” Theodore said finally, his voice thoughtful. “For a while now, actually.”
My blood ran cold. Watching me?
“Since before the garden party,” he continued, seeming not to notice my tension. “Your behavior has been… fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” I repeated flatly. “What a charming word choice.”
“It’s accurate.” He shifted slightly, and I caught the movement in my peripheral vision. “You’re either the cruelest woman in London, or the best actress I’ve ever seen.”
My fingers clenched in my lap, hidden by my skirts. “And which do you think I am?”
“I don’t know yet.” His voice carried genuine curiosity. Not judgment. Not accusation. Just… interest. “That’s what makes you fascinating.”
I turned to assess him properly—this narrative anomaly, this man whose reputation and personality seemed to exist in completely different universes.
Theodore Ashford. War hero. Future Duke. Supposedly proud and arrogant according to Rose’s gossip.
But I’d sent this man on an errand to cook. Been as awful as possible to his family. Demanded a funeral for a fish. And he’d responded to every escalating absurdity with increasing interest.
Where was the man whose ego was supposedly as large as his estate?
“I should apologize,” he said after a moment, his voice softer. “For correcting you. About the fish being freshwater.”
“Oh, don’t,” I said lightly, still watching him with narrowed eyes. “It added realism to my grief.”
His lips twitched with suppressed amusement.
Silence settled again, different this time. Easier. Less performative.
And for the first time that evening, there was no audience. No mother watching disapprovingly. No sister trying not to laugh. No servants to witness and gossip.
Just us.
The thought should have been comforting.
Instead, it made my skin prickle with warning.
Thirty Minutes Later: Cruelton Manor
By the time we arrived at Cruelton Manor, Rose was waiting on the front steps, a lamp in hand, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes bright with curiosity.
The moment Theodore stepped down from the carriage and turned to help me out, the maids who’d gathered near the entrance collectively gasped.
“It’s Captain Ashford!”
“He personally brought her home!”
“Wow, he looks so handsome—” The voice ended in a dreamy sigh.
I turned to glare at whoever had made that last comment—entirely too loud to qualify as a whisper.
All the maids recoiled seeing my expression, taking synchronized steps backward like a choreographed dance of fear.
It was Samantha and Sienna—yeah, those Samantha and Sienna, the original Beatrice’s lackeys who’d helped her torment Maryann in the early chapters.
Theodore’s face showed unmistakable amusement at the maids’ reaction to my glare.
I turned back to him, arranging my features into polite dismissal. “You’ve done enough, Captain Ashford. I hope you’ve satisfied your curiosity with this dinner.”
He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “Actually, I think quite the opposite.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I think we should see more of each other, Lady Beatrice.”
Lady Beatrice. Not Lady Cruelton like everyone else.
“You’re far too entertaining,” he continued, his green eyes catching the lamplight, “to waste on that Hartford fool.”
Behind me, I heard Rose make a small, strangled sound.
The maids’ gasps reached a new octave.
I opened my mouth—to say what, I wasn’t sure. To refuse? To agree? To ask what the hell he meant by that?
The System notification appeared before I could form words:
{SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
WARNING: Theodore Ashford’s Interest Not Waning
Probability of Plot Deviation: HIGH
Romantic Subplot Override Detected
Implementing Corrective Measures…
FIRST PENALTY:
Minus one thousand Hatred Points
Current Balance: twenty one thousand two hundred and ten pounds }
I gasped audibly.
My hard-earned points.
A thousand points. Gone. Just like that. Because Theodore Ashford found me entertaining.
“Lady Beatrice?” Theodore’s voice carried concern. “Are you alright? You’ve gone pale.”
“I’m fine,” I managed, my voice strangled. “Just… tired. From the fish trauma.”
His expression suggested he didn’t believe me for a second, but he was too polite to press.
“Of course. Forgive me for keeping you.” He bowed—a proper, formal bow that somehow still felt intimate. “Until next time, Lady Beatrice.”
He turned and climbed back into the carriage, and I watched it pull away with growing horror.
Until next time.
As if there would definitely, certainly, inevitably be a next time.
The System chimed again, merciless:
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
Mission Status: COMPROMISED
Theodore Ashford classified as PRIMARY THREAT to survival plan
Recommendation: Reduce contact immediately
Failure to comply will result in escalating penalties
Next penalty threshold: seventy two hours
I stared at the notification, then at the disappearing carriage, then at Rose who was watching me with an expression that suggested she had many questions.
“My lady?” she prompted gently.
“Rose,” I said weakly. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“Only one, my lady?”
Fair point.
Behind us, Samantha whispered to Sienna: “Do you think they’re courting?”
I turned to glare at them again, and they scattered like startled birds.
But as I climbed the steps to the manor, one thought consumed me:
I’d lost a thousand points for being too interesting.
And Theodore Ashford wanted to see me again.