Chapter 1
I was born with a plain face.
So, I bought a handsome convict–slave to be my husband.
But he found me coarse and would rather work as a laborer than be my husband.
When his conviction was overturned, he didn’t hesitate to climb into the carriage back to the capital.
Before leaving, he even offered me a piece of advice: “Jane, a butcher is the most suitable match for some- one of your station.”
I figured a scholar must know what he’s talking about.
So, I accepted a side of pork as a betrothal gift from the butcher next door.
But on my wedding night, a different man lifted my veil.
≈ I –
1
His face was a mask of fury as he demanded, “Who told you to marry him?”
The day I learned his name was Napier Crawley, I was sitting by the well, pondering how to convince him to finally be mine.
It had been two years since I’d bought him, after all.
Two years of wheedling and coaxing, using every trick in the book, hoping he’d finally give in and let me prov-
ide for him.
But Napier was unmoved.
Every time I brought it up, his answer was the same: “We are not a suitable match.”
For two years, I’d wondered what he meant by “not suitable.”
But he would never explain. He couldn’t be bothered to speak to me.
Just as I was at my wit’s end, the clattering of carriage wheels brought the answer to my doorstep.
The next moment, Princess Annabelle pushed open my rickety old gate, a perfumed handkerchief pressed to her nose.
When she saw the once–cool and aloof Grand Tutor, a man whose hands had never touched a speck of dirt, pushing a heavy stone mill, her beautiful eyes welled with tears.
Napier had always lectured me about how a proper young woman should conduct herself with modesty and shame.
But now, as Princess Annabelle threw herself into his arms, he seemed to forget all his own lessons.
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