*****

The heavy velvet curtains of the private fitting room muffled the bustling sounds of the Purple district outside. Penelope stepped into the plush, secluded place, the soft fabric sealing her away from every watchful eyes at the shop’s main entrance.

A look of profound relief dawned on her expression the instant she spotted the person she was looking for. A young lady, almost exactly the same age as Penelope, was waiting in the curtained alcove of the changing area, her fingers nervously pleating the fabric of her dress.

When the young woman noticed her approaching, her eyes lit up, and she instantly lowered her head in a polite, deeply respectful bow, whilst also looking immensely relieved to see Lady Penelope standing before her in one piece.

"My Lady," she greeted, her voice a hushed, emotional whisper.

"How have you been, Mirelda?" Penelope asked, a soft, genuine, radiant smile breaking across her face as she pulled back her hood.

She was so incredibly glad to see her.

Back when she was still trapped in her father’s house, isolated and treated like an outcast, this very maid had been the only one supporting her. She had been the one secretly feeding her, and keeping her alive through the darkest, coldest nights of her first life. Her loyalty to Penelope was a rare, priceless currency.

She remembered having promised her maid that she would come back for her once she had settled into her new life with William. But things never went as planned. She had been ultimately abandoned by the man who swore to protect her, leaving her unable to fulfil her promise.

"My Lady, after seeing you are well, I am also well," replied the maid, her eyes shining as she carefully took Penelope’s fine purple cloak, marveling at her healthy complexion. "When you married the Marquis, I was so afraid that something terrible would happen to you."

"Nothing has happened," Penelope assured Merilda. "In fact, the Marquis has been taking exceptionally good care of me."

"Really, My Lady?" Merilda sounded genuinely shocked to hear that.

A look of pure disbelief crossed the young maid’s face at the thought of the notorious "Mad Hound" actually caring for her delicate Lady. Considering all the gruesome rumors she had heard about his bloodlust and terrifying reputation, she found it hard to believe Penelope’s words. Merilda simply assumed her mistress was putting on a brave face, saying these things to lessen her worries.

"My Lady, you requested to see me so urgently?" she shifted the topic to why she was even here in the first place, looking nervously toward the curtains.

"Yes, I did," Penelope nodded, warmly grasping both of Mirelda’s hands. The girl’s palms were rough from labor, a harsh reminder of what they both endured in that house. "I’ll be coming over to the estate tomorrow for my gifting ceremony. But before I get there, there is something I need you to do for me. If it can be done tonight would be much better."

Mirelda listened attentively, her eyes widening slightly as Penelope laid out her precise, quiet instructions. It was a dangerous task, but the young maid gave a firm, resolute nod, squeezing Penelope’s hands back in an unspoken vow of absolute secrecy. Penelope reached for the bag she hung on her shoulder, handing it to Mirelda.

Meanwhile, outside the heavy curtains of the fitting room, Martha patiently waited for Penelope to step out. The drapery shop was quiet, save for the distant chatters of women just outside the main glass windows.

When the heavy curtains finally swept open, Penelope stepped out alone. Martha looked at her, noting how her mistress immediately pulled the deep hood of her cloak over her head, casting her sharp features into shadow.

"Let’s go," Penelope murmured.

The two women walked briskly toward the exit, their long skirts brushing against the plush carpet. As they approached the heavy glass door, Martha leaned in slightly to whisper in a soft tone.

"I do not wish to doubt your judgment, My Lady," but is the maid really that trustworthy?" she asked.

"Yes," Penelope replied without a single shred of hesitation. "She served as my personal maid, and she knows the layout of my father’s estate better than anyone in regards to who I can fully trust. She knows exactly how they operate. I have no reason to doubt her."

"Of course, My Lady."

Martha didn’t speak anymore. She simply bowed her head in understanding, accepting Penelope’s absolute certainty.

The warmth in Penelope’s brown eyes had hardened into the calculated focus of a woman about to dismantle her enemies. She needed every piece on the board exactly where they belonged.

As the heavy glass door opened, the crisp afternoon air brought with it the annoying flutter of silk and high-pitched melodic laughter of the high society.

A couple of noblewomen dressed in elaborate, pretty pastel outfits stepped inside the shop, their fans fluttering like butterfly wings as they shook the dust from their trailing skirts.

Penelope paused mid-step, her hand tightening around the edges of her cloak as the women’s gossiping words reaching her ears with sharp clarity.

"—oh, but you cannot be serious, Lady Beatrice! Released so soon?" The younger one gasped, pressing a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her lips. "The scandal was practically all anyone could whisper about at the Countess’s tea party."

"It is the complete truth, my dear," the older noblewoman replied, her voice dripping with exclusive, self-satisfied knowledge as she leaned in closer to her companion. "Sir William was freed just yesterday. The decree was signed before the soiree even began."

Penelope’s breath caught in her throat.

"But how?" The younger woman whispered loudly, her eyes wide with wicked delight. "I thought the charges were severe enough to ruin his family’s standing permanently. He still dares to show his face? Who could have possibly swayed the magistrate?"

"Who else but the Count?" Lady Beatrice scoffed softly, a knowing smile playing on her painted lips. "I heard the Marchioness’s father also pulled some strings to help secure his release. Apparently, the Count went to immense lengths after returning from his monthly trip, spending a fortune in favors to have the boy freed before nightfall. I suppose it makes sense, considering that’s his son. People would have judged if he sat down and did nothing about it. But I’m afraid some damages are just beyond repair."

"William... was released?"

Penelope felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. His name rang in her ears like a death knell, and her heart thudded violently.

Why... Why was he released?

A sudden, ominous dread stirred heavily in her chest, twisting her stomach into knots.

Does Vincent know about this?