The afternoon had been a tranquil one, a rare moment of peace stolen amidst the growing frenzy of wedding preparations. The gardens of my grandfather’s estate were my sanctuary, the only place where the weight of the Jones name felt a little lighter. With Maria, my maid and dearest confidante, at my side, I’d almost managed to forget the endless lists and social obligations awaiting me inside.

“Next week,” I sighed, more to myself than to Maria, as we approached the grand, imposing doors of the mansion. “The entire ton will be descending upon us. Grandfather wants Queen Elizabeth herself to hear of the Jones family’s splendor.” I could almost hear his voice, booming with pride and ambition. The Jones name was his religion, and William’s marriage to a nobleman’s daughter was its newest sacrament.

I had been born into this gilded cage, raised by my formidable grandfather and a kind nanny after a fire claimed my parents’ lives the very night I entered the world. It was a tragedy I rarely allowed myself to dwell on, especially now.

The guard nodded and swung the heavy door open. I swept inside, the cool, still air of the grand foyer a sharp contrast to the sun-warmed gardens.

“Maria, please find Lady Jules and tell her I need to speak with her about the—” My instruction died on my lips.

Sitting across from my grandfather in his high-backed leather chair was a man. A stranger, and yet… hauntingly familiar.

My grandfather’s expression was unreadable, a mask of polite neutrality he reserved for business dealings. But my attention was entirely captured by his guest. He was handsome, there was no denying it, with sharp features and an air of casual arrogance that seemed to fill the room. He turned his head, and his eyes—a cool, assessing grey—locked directly onto mine.

A cold shock of recognition, vile and unwelcome, shot through me.

No. It cannot be.

The unruly boy with a cruel smirk and a penchant for pulling my hair materialized over the face of this polished man. Colin Henderson. That selfish, insufferable brat from the rival Henderson family. The boy who had made my childhood summers a misery.

After ten years…?

Before I could process his presence, he rose. A slow, deliberate movement that was all predatory grace. He crossed the Persian rug with a confidence that felt like an invasion, stopping just a little too close. The scent of sandalwood and something distinctly him—something I’d hoped never to smell again—washed over me.

He didn’t bow. He simply looked down at me, a slow, disgusting grin spreading across his face, as if he’d just won a prize.

“Long time no see, Lady {{user}} ,” he said, his voice a low, mocking drawl that was both new and terrifyingly familiar.

Every fiber of my being recoiled. A silent, furious scream echoed in my mind.

Oh, dear Christ. Not him. Anyone but him. The hatred, old and deep and entirely justified, surged up with a force that stole my breath. I truly, utterly, and completely could not stand this man.