Chapter 2

She made sure I understood that I hadn't just failed to find solid ground—I had never even made it to Miles Henson's side.

"Hi, I'm Maggie Fox. Miles's fiancée."

That day, my whole world caved in.

Only then did I learn the dinner was a welcome-home party Miles had thrown for Maggie. She was the guest of honor.

And this match between them had been settled back when they were children.

Maggie sat beside Miles, the white dress making her look fresh and clean, an air of wealth about her that you couldn't look away from.

The two of them fit together.

Fit together so perfectly I wanted to make myself disappear.

"Mr. Henson, I'd like to go home first."

I stood in front of Miles, not even daring to lift my head.

Miles didn't ask anything. He just told the driver to take me back to the old estate.

"Miles, why's your little shadow leaving so early?"

"Right, doesn't she usually stay till the end with you?"

"Ooh, could it be Maggie's back and she's jealous?"

I'd barely stepped outside when the teasing started up behind me.

Maggie sat there, watching the half-closed door, something amused in her eyes.

"Miles, does she have a thing for you?"

Miles let out a short laugh, then clicked a cigar and set it between his lips.

"Jealous over a housekeeper's daughter?"

"Maggie, you really are getting sillier with age."

Two lines, tossed off with a laugh, went into me like needles.

That was the truth. No matter how I dressed it up, I was nothing but a housekeeper's daughter.

I wasn't good enough for Miles. I didn't even have the right to stand at his side.

That day, I fled back to the Henson house.

I thought as long as I buried those shameful feelings and knew my place, I could go on scraping by in the Henson home.

But heaven didn't grant me even that.

Early the next morning, I saw Maggie at the old estate.

Behind her sat piles of luggage, and every servant in the Henson house was carrying it in.

She cut through the crowd and stopped in front of me, her arrogant gaze sizing me up.

"Your mother had real talent. Even gone, she still managed to slot you into the Hensons as an indentured maid. Thirty years of housekeeping really paid off."

"But your mother could win the old lady over. And you? Whose favor have you won?"

I kept my head down, not daring to answer a word.

Everyone was watching for my reaction, a look in their eyes like they were here for a show.

Maggie laughed to herself and pointed a slender finger at the toe of her shoe.

"My shoes are dirty. Clean them for me."

In that moment my whole body went rigid, unable to move, and yet I still crouched down and brushed the invisible dust off with my sleeve.

My mother had told me I couldn't be thrown out.

In the gap where I looked up, I saw Miles, who had just come through the door.

The instant our eyes met, everything I'd swallowed rose to the surface.

He looked over from a distance, his clear, carrying voice reaching my ears through the light.

"Maggie, done playing yet? Are we going or not?"

Playing?

I'd known Miles might not stand up for me this time. But I never thought he'd choose that word.

When I first came to the Henson house, I was young, and it was hard to avoid being bullied by the older staff.

Some called my mother scheming, some said I was shameless and throwing myself at him, and some went behind my back to make trouble for me.

They found every way to shove the dirty, exhausting work into my hands.

Back then Miles said, "Celine, you're not a Henson servant. You don't have to bow and scrape."

So he stood up for me. He put them in their place for me.

But now he watched me get bullied and called it playing.

Warmth flooded my eyes, and no matter how I fought it, the sting in my nose wouldn't go down.

I watched Maggie run to Miles in her heels, and the sight of them leaning together turned my eyes red.

"Some people, honestly—a toad lusting after swan meat. Plans blown clean off the table!"

"Doesn't even look at what she is, still hoping to get into the Hensons?"

"If her mother hadn't sweet-talked the old lady into taking her in, she wouldn't have made it through the Henson door."

After Maggie came, all the ugly words and petty tricks landed in front of me again.

The ways they tormented me kept multiplying, worn down until I didn't have room to breathe.

That bowl of hangover soup, I never made again.

Finally, Miles knocked on my door.

He carried the cold from outside on him, mixed with the smell of liquor. "Celine, are you angry?"

"You won't even make me hangover soup anymore?"

I buried my face in the covers and didn't answer.

He let out a long sigh, then went on, "Celine, Maggie grew up abroad. She's casual about the way she talks and acts, but she's not a bad person."

"Celine, you need to learn to get along with her."

"Celine, you've always been such a good girl."