He knew exactly who she was.
Marcus stood near the main entrance, those pale calculating eyes locked on hers across the crowded ballroom. Not surprised. Not confused.
He'd been waiting for this moment.
"Darling?" Alaric's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You've gone pale. Are you feeling well?"
Think fast. She couldn't let Alaric notice her distress. Couldn't give him any reason to look where she was looking.
"Just... overwhelmed by all the compliments on my charitable work," she managed, forcing a smile. "It's wonderful to see the impact we're making."
"You've earned every bit of praise," Alaric said, his grip on her waist tightening possessively. "Come, let me introduce you to Lord Pemberton. He's interested in funding more orphanage projects."
No. She couldn't move across the room. Not while Marcus was watching. Not while he could intercept her, approach Alaric, expose everything with a simple greeting.
"Duchess Vessant? But I know you as Phinia Ashara..."
"Actually," she said quickly, "I'd love some fresh air first. Perhaps we could step onto the terrace?"
"Of course." Alaric immediately shifted direction, ever the attentive husband. "The evening is quite warm."
As they moved toward the terrace doors, Seraphina risked a glance back. Marcus was gone.
Shit. That was worse. Much worse. At least when she could see him, she knew where the threat was coming from.
The terrace overlooked the assembly hall's gardens, lit by torches and filled with couples taking romantic walks. Alaric guided her to the stone railing, the cool night air a relief against her flushed skin.
"Better?" he asked, studying her face with what looked like genuine concern.
"Much." She leaned into him, playing the grateful wife while scanning the shadows below. "Thank you for being so attentive."
"Always." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin. "I love seeing you like this. Confident, passionate about your work. You've become everything I hoped you could be."
Everything you molded me to be, she thought. Everything that serves your purposes.
"I'm glad you're proud of me," she said instead.
"More than proud. I'm, "
"Excuse me."
The voice came from directly behind them. Calm, controlled, unmistakably familiar.
Marcus stepped out of the shadows near the terrace entrance, hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of polite respect. But his eyes never left Seraphina's face.
"Lord Vessant, Duchess Vessant. I hope I'm not interrupting."
Alaric turned, eyebrows raised. "Lord...?"
"Marcus Branthorne," he said with a perfect bow. "I've heard wonderful things about your wife's charitable endeavors."
Keep breathing. Keep acting normal.
"Lord Branthorne," she said, offering her hand for a polite kiss. "How lovely to meet you."
When Marcus's lips brushed her knuckles, his eyes held hers with unmistakable meaning. I know exactly who you are.
"The pleasure is entirely mine, Your Grace," he said, releasing her hand slowly. "I feel as though we have... mutual interests."
Alaric's posture shifted slightly. Not suspicious yet, but alert to the undercurrent in Marcus's tone.
"Mutual interests?" Alaric asked.
"Business ventures," Marcus replied smoothly. "I've been following the Duchess's work with great admiration. Such... innovative approaches to traditional problems."
Innovative approaches. Right. Like pretending to be an independent merchant to steal mining contracts.
"My wife is indeed remarkable," Alaric said, pride clear in his voice. "Though I wasn't aware she was involved in business ventures beyond her charitable work."
Marcus's smile was perfectly innocent. "Perhaps I misspoke. I meant her approach to organizing relief efforts. Very... entrepreneurial."
Good save. But Seraphina could see the calculation behind his eyes. He was testing the waters, seeing how much Alaric knew about her activities.
"Well," Alaric said, "I should let you two discuss charitable strategies. I've just spotted Lord Pemberton, and I promised to introduce him to my brilliant wife."
No. Don't leave me alone with him.
But Alaric was already kissing her cheek, already moving back toward the ballroom doors. "Don't be long, darling. The evening's still young."
The moment they were alone, Marcus's polite mask slipped slightly.
"Duchess Vessant," he said softly. "Or should I say... Phinia Ashara?"
Her heart hammered, but she kept her voice steady. "I think you have me confused with someone else."
"Do I?" He moved closer, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Because I distinctly remember making a very lucrative mining deal with a woman who looked exactly like you. Same voice, same mannerisms, same way of tilting her head when she's thinking."
He wasn't going to let this go.
"What do you want?" she asked quietly.
"Answers." His expression was serious but not hostile. "Starting with why the Duchess of Vessant was playing independent merchant three weeks ago."
She studied his face, weighing her options. He was too smart to fool with lies. Too connected to ignore. Too dangerous to leave as an enemy.
But maybe...
"Walk with me," she said, moving toward the garden steps. "And keep your voice down."
They descended into the torchlit paths, far enough from other couples to speak privately but close enough to the party to maintain appearances.
"You want the truth?" she said finally.
"It would be refreshing."
She stopped beside a fountain, the sound of water covering their conversation. "My husband doesn't know about my... business interests. He believes I'm focused entirely on charitable work."
"And you prefer it that way."
"I prefer having options he doesn't control."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Financial independence. Smart. But why the elaborate deception? Why not simply invest under your own name?"
Because I'm planning to destroy the house I married into and reclaim everything they stole from my family. "Because married women's business ventures require their husband's permission. Independent merchants have more freedom."
"And Duke Vorenthal? How does he fit into your... independence?"
Careful. She couldn't reveal too much about her alliance with Caelan.
"The Duke and I have mutual interests. He provided backing for the mining venture because it served his purposes as well as mine."
"What kind of mutual interests?"
"The profitable kind."
Marcus was quiet for a moment, clearly processing. "You realize this puts me in a difficult position."
"How so?"
"I made a business deal with Phinia Ashara. But Phinia Ashara doesn't exist. So who, exactly, am I partners with?"
Valid question. "You're partners with someone who has access to ducal resources, noble connections, and a very strong motivation to make sure your mining venture succeeds."
"And if your husband discovers your... dual identity?"
"Then we'll deal with that when it happens."
"We?"
She met his eyes. "You're already involved, Marcus. The moment you recognized me, you became part of this. The question is whether you want to be a partner or a problem."
Bold play. But sometimes bold was the only option.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, studying her face in the torchlight. "You're not who I thought you were."
"I'm exactly who I've always been. You just know more about me now."
"And if I want to know more still?"
There was something in his tone she couldn't quite place, but she was too focused on damage control to analyze it.
"Then we'll discuss that. Later. When there aren't a hundred nobles who might overhear us."
He smiled at that, and she caught a flicker of something, amusement? disappointment?, before his expression smoothed. "Fair enough. Though I have to say, this makes our partnership considerably more... interesting."
There was something in his tone... Still attracted to her, despite, or maybe because of, the deception.
"Interesting is one word for it," she said dryly.
"When can we continue this conversation?"
"I'll contact you."
"How? You can hardly send a note signed 'Phinia Ashara' to my estate."
Good point. "I'll figure something out."
"Or," Marcus said, stepping closer, "I could simply visit. Pay my respects to the charitable Duchess Vessant. Perfectly innocent social call."
Too risky. Alaric would want to know why a young, unmarried lord was visiting his wife.
"That might raise questions."
"Everything about this raises questions. The trick is controlling which ones get asked."
Before she could respond, footsteps approached. Heavy, controlled, familiar.
Caelan.
He emerged from the shadows like he'd been born from them, moving with that predatory grace that made her pulse quicken despite everything.
"Duchess," he said formally, but she caught the tension in his jaw. "Lord Branthorne."
And Marcus was staring at Caelan with obvious confusion. Why would a guard be dressed so formally at a charity gala? She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, remembering the masked "security" from their business meeting, connecting it to the duke's seal that had secured their deal.
Shit. Marcus had just realized that her supposed guard was actually Duke Vorenthal himself.
"Duke Vorenthal," Marcus replied with a polite nod. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you here... personally overseeing charitable endeavors."
Pleasant surprise. Right. More like a calculated intervention.
"I take a personal interest in worthy causes," Caelan said, his tone carefully neutral. "Especially those involving... long-term partnerships."
"How admirable," Marcus said, his smile sharp. "It's rare to find someone of your station who gets so... directly involved in business ventures."
"I find direct involvement yields better results," Caelan replied smoothly. "Particularly when the stakes are high."
"Indeed. Though I imagine such close involvement requires a great deal of... personal attention."
Stop. Both men were circling each other like predators, and she was caught in the middle.
"I was hoping to discuss some business matters with the Duchess," Caelan said, his tone carrying subtle finality. "If you'll excuse us."
"Of course." Marcus bowed to Seraphina. "Your Grace, thank you for the... illuminating conversation. I look forward to continuing our discussion about charitable strategies."
Charitable strategies. He was enjoying this game too much.
"As do I," she replied. "Perhaps we can arrange a more formal meeting soon."
"I would be delighted."
Marcus melted back into the party, leaving her alone with Caelan in the garden shadows.
"Well," Caelan said quietly, "that was interesting."
"You heard."
"Enough." His voice carried an edge she couldn't quite identify. "Marcus Branthorne. Your mining partner. The one who was quite... attentive during your negotiations."
There it was. The jealousy he tried so hard to hide.
"It's not what you think."
"Isn't it? Because from where I stood, it looked like you just recruited another ally without consulting your existing partners."
"I didn't recruit him. He recognized me. I had to make a choice, lie to someone too smart to fool, or bring him deeper in."
"And you chose to trust him with secrets that could destroy us all."
Us. Not her plans, not the mission. Us.
"I chose to manage a crisis," she said. "Would you have preferred I let him expose everything to Alaric?"
Caelan's jaw tightened. "I would have preferred knowing about the risk before it became a crisis."
"You did know about the risk. You were there when I made the deal with him. You saw how he looked at me."
"I saw a young lord with a crush. I didn't realize he was the type to track down his business partners at social events."
Fair point. She hadn't expected Marcus to be quite so... persistent.
"It's handled," she said. "He's not going to expose anything. If anything, he's more invested now."
"More invested in the business, or in you?"
And there it was. The real source of his anger.
"Does it matter?"
"It matters if his interest isn't just business."
"Our operations," she repeated. "Not my plans. Our operations."
Something shifted in his expression. "You know what I meant."
"Do I? Because sometimes I wonder if you're more worried about operational security or about other men paying attention to me."
Direct hit. She could see it in the way his hands clenched at his sides.
"That's not, "
"Relevant?" she finished. "You're right. It's not. What's relevant is that we now have another ally with resources, connections, and motivation to keep our secrets safe."
"And what happens when he wants more than business partnership?"
"Then I'll handle that too."
"Like you handled tonight?"
Ouch. "Tonight worked out fine."
"Tonight was messy. The more people who know your secrets, the more chances for everything to fall apart."
"I know that." Her voice was sharper than she intended. "But this isn't a perfect world, and I can't control every variable. Sometimes you have to adapt."
"And sometimes adaptation gets people killed."
There was something in his tone... Fear. Real fear, carefully hidden behind operational concern.
"Marcus isn't going to get anyone killed."
"How do you know?"
"Because he's not stupid. He has as much to lose as we do if this goes wrong."
"Does he? Because from where I'm standing, he's a young lord with mining profits and a beautiful woman who's been lying to him. That's not exactly a stable foundation for trust."
Beautiful woman. So he had noticed Marcus's attraction.
"Trust isn't the foundation," she said. "Mutual benefit is."
"And when those benefits stop being mutual?"
When Marcus wants more than business. When he pushes for personal involvement. When his attraction becomes a problem.
"We'll deal with that when it happens."
"Like we dealt with tonight?"
Enough. "What do you want me to say, Caelan? That I made a mistake? That I should have handled it differently? Fine. Maybe I should have. But I didn't, and now we have to work with the situation as it is."
"What I want," he said quietly, "is for you to be careful. More careful than you've been."
There was something vulnerable in his voice. Something that made her chest tighten.
"I am being careful."
"Are you? Because adding more people to this conspiracy doesn't feel careful. It feels desperate."
Desperate. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was getting too comfortable with risk, too willing to gamble with secrets that could destroy everything.
Or maybe she was just tired of doing everything alone.
"I'll be more careful," she said finally.
"Promise me."
Promise him. Like they were... what? Partners? Allies? Something more?
"I promise I'll consult you before making major decisions about our operation."
"That's not what I asked for."
She didn't flinch. "It's what I can give you."
Caelan stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. "It'll have to be enough, I suppose."
Will it? She wasn't sure. Wasn't sure what he wanted from her, what she wanted from him, what any of this meant beyond survival and revenge.
"We should get back," she said. "Alaric will wonder where I am."
"Of course." His tone was perfectly neutral again, the vulnerable moment gone. "Can't keep your husband waiting."
Her husband. Right. The man she was married to, performed for, let touch her while planning his destruction.
Not the man whose gentle touch made her want to cry. Not the man whose jealousy made her pulse race even when she was angry with him.
"Seraphina."
She turned back. "Yes?"
"When Marcus contacts you again, and he will, make sure I know about it."
"I will."
"And be careful what you promise him. Some men take promises from beautiful women very seriously."
Beautiful women. There it was again.
"I know what I'm doing."
"I hope you do."
Two days later, Seraphina sat in her private sitting room with the morning newspaper spread across her lap, savoring a cup of tea and what felt like the first peaceful moment she'd had in weeks.
"Skyglass Mining Venture Yields Unprecedented Results," read the headline. "Branthorne Family Investment Proves Profitable Beyond All Expectations."
She smiled, reading the details of ore quality, extraction efficiency, and profit margins that exceeded even the most optimistic projections. Every word was vindication of her decision to back Marcus's venture.
Phinia Ashara's decision, she corrected herself. The independent merchant who'd taken a calculated risk and been proven brilliantly right.
The article went on to praise the "mysterious backer" who'd provided both funding and political protection for the operation. Duke Vorenthal was mentioned by name, lauded for his business acumen and forward-thinking investment strategy.
If only they knew the truth.
"My lady?"
Elena appeared in the doorway, looking slightly flustered.
"Yes?"
"There's a gentleman here to see you. Lord Marcus Branthorne. He... he doesn't have an appointment, but he says it's about charitable collaboration?"
Seraphina's teacup paused halfway to her lips. He'd actually done it. Come to the estate uninvited.
Bold. Dangerous. Very like him.
"Where is he now?"
"In the front parlor, my lady. I told him you might not be receiving visitors, but he said he was confident you'd want to hear his proposal."
His proposal. Right. Whatever that meant.
"And Lord Vessant?"
"In his study, my lady. Meeting with his steward about the harvest reports."
Good. At least Alaric was occupied.
"Tell Lord Branthorne I'll see him shortly. And Elena?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Close the parlor doors. We won't want to be disturbed."
Elena's eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded. "Of course, my lady."
As Elena's footsteps faded down the corridor, Seraphina folded the newspaper carefully and set it aside. Marcus Branthorne was in her house, wanting to discuss God knew what, while her husband was close enough to interrupt at any moment.
This should be interesting... or a disaster.