Celine looked at her mother. Lady Farrington was oblivious. She was busy talking about the wedding breakfast.
"We must have lobster," Lady Farrington declared. "Lobster is very fashionable this season. And ice sculptures. Perhaps a swan?"
Rowan nodded mechanically. "Whatever you wish, Lady Farrington."
"And the dress," Lady Farrington continued. "Celine will wear white silk. With the Hamilton diamonds. You will open the vault, won't you, Your Grace?"
"Of course," Rowan said. "The diamonds are... available."
He said it without joy. He said it like he was lending a book from the library.
Celine felt tears prick her eyes. She looked down at her roast beef. It looked gray and unappetizing.
She realized, with a clarity that hurt her chest, that she was an intruder. She was the villain in someone else's love story. She was the obstacle.
She ate her food silently. She chewed. She swallowed. But it tasted like ash.
