♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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Despite her reservations, Prudence marveled everyone at her birthday ball. Draped in navy and silver, she shimmered like a halo of sparkles.
Pauline averted her gaze that night, not once complimenting her daughter on her appearance.
When the herald had announced Prudence, all bowed and curtsied. Some cried as she swayed down the carpet to meet her twin atop the dais. Romain forced a smile as he spoke to the crowd, and later declared her betrothal to a man who wasn't even there. Pauline remained neutral and surrounded herself in a horde of ladies who buzzed about her like bees—and protected her from Prudence.
It was Prudence's birthday celebration, her introduction to Giroma—but none of her loved ones wanted to be near her.
Even Sarah had been odd during the event. She attended to Prudence, fixed her high-piled bun whenever it threatened to come undone, and kept her drink filled; but she appeared uneasy, and quieter than usual. Had anyone told her that Prudence was pregnant with the Totresian heir? She hoped not; if Sarah had access to such secrets, they would soon spill out all over the country.
Giromians and their gossip.
The next day, still spinning from the loud music and the noble chatter, Prudence fought to hold in her tears. Neither her sibling nor her mother had visited her since, leaving her to fend for herself. She hadn't heard from her supposed fiancé, either, who kept his distance from court, likely afraid of his monarch's wrath at his Adelaide deception.
She slammed her hairbrush onto her vanity. "Why do they all hate me so?" She glared at her reflection. "I made a fool of myself, but should they not help me instead of shun me?"
Pulling her legs up to her chest, she felt her heart break. She held her calves tight and pressed her thighs deep into her belly—the belly that contained the fruits of her indiscretion.
She snorted. "Our indiscretion. Why are they not upset with Antoine, too? He did this!" She dug her nails into her legs and pictured herself slapping him. "He put this thing inside me!"
Antoine's seductive whispers, that famed night before he ditched her for his duties, echoed in her mind. Charged with sudden rage, she stomped to her closet and wrenched it open, perusing through her clothes. She snatched anything that reminded her of Antoine—flowery gowns, Masquerade attire, the black dress she'd worn when she left—and threw it all on her bed. It would all burn; every fabric that ever came in contact with him, every material he touched or complimented. Nothing in her wardrobe would remind her of the King of Totresia and how he'd ruined her life in Giroma.
***
When she woke the next day, the mass of dresses still weighed down on her comforter. No one had come in; not to drop off food or water, not to check on her health or mood.
