"No, not there! Are you blind? That vase is Cathayan porcelain, worth more than you'll earn in five years!" I snapped, watching the sweating servant nearly drop the priceless heirloom.
The man mumbled apologies, carefully setting the vase on a side table as I massaged my temples. The Fairchild mansion buzzed with activity as servants carried my possessions inside. My possessions—soon to be displayed in my home. The thought sent a thrill through me.
"This would be so much simpler if Jasper were here," I muttered to myself, scanning the chaotic entrance hall. Lucian's manservant had a way of making things happen efficiently, but he was mysteriously absent today.
I smoothed my expensive new gown—one of many Lucian had purchased for me—and tried to appear calm and dignified as befitted my soon-to-be station. In just three weeks, I would be Marchioness Clara Fairchild. The title rolled deliciously across my mind.
