"The Duke has offered us land to build a proper home," I said, watching hope and disbelief war on my mother's tired face. "You could finally leave this place, Mother."
The small kitchen felt even more cramped than usual. Steam rose from the pot of thin soup bubbling on the stove, a meager dinner that my aunt Justina would surely criticize as too extravagant for "her servants." My parents hadn't been servants when they first came to live with her after losing everything. They were family seeking temporary shelter. But ten years later, the arrangement had become permanent servitude.
My mother, Diana, wiped her hands nervously on her apron. "That's very generous, Clara, but we couldn't possibly accept—"
"Why not?" I pressed, leaning forward. "Duke Thorne has more land than he knows what to do with. He's offering this as appreciation for my service to the Duchess."
