Chapter 3

Elizabeth blinked at Stephen. Isn't Freya the one engaged to Elliott Blackwood?

Why are you making me marry him? Stephen drew his brows together as he studied her. Something about her felt different now, unfamiliar in a way he could not place. He clasped his hands behind his back and held her with a cold, steady gaze.

You and your sister are not the same. She has a future ahead of her. She will not be tied to a cripple.

The Blackwood family only wants a Davenport daughter, and you will be that bride.

Disdain flickered in his eyes, as if even calling her a Davenport left a bitter taste.

Evelyn lifted her chin and stepped forward, irritation sharpening her features. You ungrateful girl. The Blackwood family is powerful. We are doing you a favor.

A soft laugh slipped from Elizabeth, and her smile caught the light.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. What is so funny?

Elizabeth leaned back slightly, still stroking the cat, her gaze steady and unbothered.

You planned this. Well, I am the adopted daughter and older.

You send me, the family keeps its image, and Freya stays untouched.

It works out for everyone. Well played. Evelyn's face flushed as anger rose quickly. She stepped closer, her hands tightening at her sides.

Watch your words. Without us, you could never even step near the Blackwood Estate, let alone marry into it.

Her voice startled the cat, and the small creature pressed deeper into Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth lifted a finger to her lips and tilted her head.

You are frightening my cat. Stephen's gaze hardened as he stepped forward, his authority pressing down on the room.

This is the Davenport House, and you carry this name now. You will follow our rules. This marriage is already decided.

Elizabeth lowered her eyes, her calm unshaken. A substitute bride, fine.

She would meet Elliott Blackwood herself and see what kind of man he was.

After a brief pause, she lifted her gaze again. Is there anything else?

She rose without waiting for an answer and adjusted her sleeves with quiet ease.

If not, I would like to get some rest. We had a long drive. She walked out calmly, leaving silence behind her. Outside, she stopped near the housekeeper.

Where is my room? The housekeeper straightened at once and gestured down the corridor. This way.

She led Elizabeth to a door and paused. Only then, realizing what had just happened, she had followed without question, something she never did for anyone except the Masters of the House.

The door shut with a sharp sound. She flinched, staring at it, as irritation slowly replaced her surprise.

Even Freya had never treated her so dismissively.

She was just a country girl. Who the hell did she think she was?

Anger built as she turned and made her way toward the piano room. Inside, Freya played softly, her fingers moving with practiced ease as the melody filled the space.

The housekeeper stepped closer. Miss Davenport.

Freya glanced over without stopping. Mrs Warner.

Mrs Warner leaned in slightly. The girl from the countryside has arrived. Do you want to see her?

Freya's lips curved faintly, amusement flickering in her eyes. A countryside girl did not deserve that kind of attention.

Mrs Warner continued, unable to hide her disdain. She walks around like she owns the place.

How much arrogance, as if she is the true heiress. You should be careful around her.

Freya let out a soft breath, dismissing the concern.

Mrs Warner, she is my sister by name. She is the eldest daughter. She just arrived. So give her time.

Mrs Warner hesitated before nodding. This shows your upbringing. No comparison.

Miss Davenport, you are too kind. Most people would ignore her.

Freya turned fully toward her, her composure steady. She is my sister. So do not speak like that again.

Mrs Warner lowered her head at once. Of course.

After finishing her practice, Freya went to her parents' room. She stepped inside and clasped her hands lightly.

Mom, Dad. Have you met Kathy? Evelyn turned sharply, her irritation returning at once. That girl.

That girl has no manners. She speaks without respect and does not act like family. No matter where she goes, the countryside follows her.

Freya poured a cup of tea and placed it gently in Evelyn's hands.

Have some tea and relax. She grew up differently, so this is expected. Don't let it upset you. Evelyn took the cup, the warmth easing her temper. Freya continued calmly.

If she behaves poorly, ignore it. We do not need to concern ourselves with her.

Stephen nodded in agreement and looked at Freya with clear approval. He turned back to Evelyn.

Did you arrange for her further education? Evelyn nodded. Yes. She will attend the same university as Freya.

Stephen paused as he considered it. That university teaches in Spanish and French. Will she understand anything?

Freya adjusted her sleeve, her tone steady. That is her problem. Since she is the elder daughter in the public eye, she must attend the same school.

We cannot show favoritism publicly.

Evelyn nodded with satisfaction. You are right.

I'm lucky that you are my daughter.

Evening. As they gathered for dinner, Stephen and Evelyn sat at the table talking. When the door opened, Elizabeth stepped inside.

Good evening.

Evelyn frowned as the country girl walked in. She made herself at home and sat down after offering a faint smile.

Soft footsteps followed behind her. A gentle voice spoke.

Mom, Dad, Liz. Elizabeth lifted her gaze. The girl entered with quiet grace. Her pale blue dress flowed with each step, and her long, dark hair framed delicate features.

Her presence held natural nobility. Freya Davenport. Elizabeth had once envied her beauty, her grace, her life. She had spent years shrinking beside her, believing she could never compare.

But not anymore. A faint smirk touched Elizabeth's lips as she watched her so-called sister approach.

Freya slowed, confusion flickering across her face. She looked Elizabeth up and down, then glanced at her parents, as if asking who this person was.

Elizabeth raised her glass slightly. Nice to meet you, Freya. Freya picked up her glass and met her gaze.

Welcome back, Liz. She set her glass down and folded her hands neatly. I could not come to pick you up. My health was not well.

I hope you do not mind. Elizabeth rested her hand on the table.

That's fine. Take no pain, please. Freya's eyes shifted slightly.

Once, Elizabeth had been timid, eager to please. Now she sat here, calm and unbothered.

Evelyn watched closely, her expression sharp. This is not the countryside. Watch Freya and learn proper manners.

Or else you will cause embarrassment to this family. Food slipped from Evelyn's mouth as she spoke. The irony almost laughable.

Elizabeth picked up her utensils, her lips curving faintly.

I may not know everything, but I do know one thing. People should not talk while eating.

She cut the steak into even pieces with smooth, controlled movements. Each motion looked practiced and precise as she lifted a piece calmly to her lips.

Her elegance stood out even more refined than Freya's. Evelyn glared at her in shock.

The girl in front of her was bold, as if on a warpath with them. Yet, as Evelyn watched more closely, she could not ignore it. The way Elizabeth handled the knife and fork, the control.

A thought crept in. Has someone trained her?

Evelyn's suspicion twisted into irritation. She must be pretending, trying to copy Freya.

Freya stiffened slightly, her frustration building as she looked at her mother, who stared back in confusion.

Evelyn leaned forward, her gaze sharp. Who taught you that?

Elizabeth set her fork down slowly, a faint smirk returning.

I learned a few things while living on my own after my family abandoned me.

Evelyn's eye twitched, but she stayed silent. I will teach this little bitch a lesson if it's the last thing I do.