CHAPTER 26: CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Ashlyn, her face a mask of humiliated fury, took a blind step forward, her hand raising as if to strike the small boy who had so utterly ruined her moment.

But before she could act on the impulse, her mother, Lady Anita, caught her arm in a firm, warning grip. Ashlyn shot her a look of furious disbelief, but her mother’s eyes were cold and commanding. Not him, the look said. Never him.

Anita’s expression then melted into one of pretentious warmth as she looked at Ryan. Her smile was a masterpiece of social grace, designed to erase the last few minutes of ugly emotion. "My, my," she chuckled, her voice a little too bright. "It’s all just a big misunderstanding, young master. This is your mother’s home. How could anyone possibly bully her here?"

Ryan, however, was not looking at her. His attention was solely on Marissa, who had crouched down to his level, her violet gown pooling around her on the floor. He leaned in close, his small hand cupped around his mouth as he whispered into her ear, his voice a buzz.

"Mother, you told me to watch from the carriage and to enter after I counted to thirty. Was I timely?"

Marissa’s cool, composed expression softened with genuine affection. She brought a hand up to his hair, her fingers gently arranging a stray curl. "Very timely," she whispered back, her voice so low only he could hear.

Ryan’s eyes lit up, a mischievous twinkle in their dark depths. "Then I hope Mother won’t forget to reward me with those honey cakes you promised."

"Of course I won’t," she murmured, a real smile touching her lips.

Anita, witnessing this display of quiet intimacy, laughed again, a sound meant to shepherd everyone past the awkwardness. "Alright, alright," she said, clapping her hands together lightly. "Surely the young master didn’t mean to be rude to his elders. He is just a protective child." She turned to her husband, who was still clutching his wrist, his face a thundercloud of bruised pride.

"My lord, today is the girls’ homecoming. It is supposed to be a joyous day. Let’s all go inside and compose ourselves."

Lord Malone let out a disgusted scoff but turned and stalked into the main drawing room without another word. Anita and a still-fuming Ashlyn followed him.

Marissa stood, taking Ryan’s small hand in hers. The warmth and trust of his grip was a stark contrast to the cold reception of her family. Together, they walked into the house.

The drawing room was already a testament to Carlos’s generosity. Servants were carefully placing the last of the gifts on display: bolts of shimmering silk, a finely crafted silver tea service, and ornate boxes that hinted at rare and expensive contents. Carlos himself was there, overseeing the arrangement with a quiet, confident pride.

The moment she saw her mother, Ashlyn’s mood lifted. She rushed to a small, velvet-lined box and presented it to Anita. "For you, Mother." Inside was a lustrous, perfectly matched pearl bracelet.

Anita’s eyes lit up with genuine delight. "Oh, Ashlyn, it’s exquisite!" she exclaimed, allowing her daughter to fasten it around her wrist. She held her hand out, admiring the way the pearls caught the light. "Look at this, my lord," she said, hurrying over to her husband.

Lord Malone’s sour expression had already begun to fade as Carlos presented him with a large, heavy porcelain vase, its surface painted with a delicate, intricate landscape. "From the kilns of the southern province, my lord," Carlos said with a respectful bow.

Malone’s eyes, which had looked at Marissa with such rage, now gleamed with materialistic pleasure. He ran a hand over the smooth, cool surface. "Look at this craftsmanship. Obviously valuable," he grunted, giving Carlos a nod of approval. "Very nice. You have been thoughtful, young man."

Ashlyn beamed, her earlier humiliation forgotten in this new wave of glory. "Mother, Father, these are things one can rarely find, even in the capital," she said, moving to link her arm through her husband’s. "My husband took a great deal of effort to procure them for you."

Carlos smiled down at her, his love and pride evident for all to see. "As long as Father and Mother-in-law like them, I am filled with joy," he said. He then turned to face Ashlyn, taking her hands in his. "But giving me Ashlyn," he declared, his voice full of heartfelt emotion, "is the greatest blessing the Austen family could have ever bestowed upon me."

The room was filled with the warm, happy glow of a family pleased with their new son-in-law. It was into this cozy scene that Anita turned her attention, her eyes landing on Marissa, who was quietly helping Ryan to a small cup of water by the refreshments table.

"Marissa, dear," Anita began, her voice sweet but her words sharp as needles. "Such an important day, and your husband didn’t even bother to come. What did you do to annoy him so soon?"

Ashlyn immediately chimed in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Mother, don’t say that. Marissa is, after all, the Grand Duchess now."

"And what is the use of a title, I ask you?" Anita retorted, shaking her head sadly. "For a woman, having her husband’s love and devotion is all that truly matters in this world." Lord Malone smiled and nodded his agreement from his chair. Anita gestured towards Ashlyn and Carlos. "Look at Lord Carlos. His heart and his eyes are only for our Ashlyn. That is true happiness. That is true success."

The room fell silent, the taunt hanging heavy and unavoidable in the air. Everyone was watching Marissa, waiting for her to crumble.

Instead, she calmly placed Ryan’s empty cup on the table and stood up. She picked up her fan and began to flutter it with a graceful, unhurried rhythm. "Indeed," she said, her voice a calm, untroubled stream. "Sister and Brother-in-law are so loving. It is truly an enviable sight."

She began to walk slowly towards them, her violet gown whispering against the floor. She stopped right beside Ashlyn, who was still basking in her mother’s praise. Leaning in close, as if to share a sisterly secret, Marissa’s voice dropped to a barely audible, poisonous whisper that was meant only for Ashlyn’s ears.

"If you hadn’t insisted on swapping grooms that day," she murmured, her lips close to her sister’s ear, "your current, loving husband would have been your brother-in-law. Surely, in all this joy, you haven’t forgotten that?"

The color drained from Ashlyn’s face. The happy, triumphant smile froze on her lips, cracking like fine porcelain. The warmth of Carlos’s affection, the weight of the expensive gifts, the praise of her parents—it all turned to ash in her mouth. Marissa’s whisper had reminded her that her entire world of happiness was built on a foundation of fear, a fate she had only narrowly escaped by pushing it onto her sister.