Episode 12
1011 Words
Masks and Motives
The moment Patricia said her name, Hyacinth’s body went cold.
But only for a breath.
She straightened her robe, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin.
“I’ll see her,” she said calmly.
Patricia blinked. “Are you sure, my lady?”
“Quite.”
Adelaide stood by the tall windows in the drawing room, dressed in rich navy silk, back turned like a queen waiting to be summoned. The morning sun lit her hair in streaks of gold, but her posture was rigid, her beauty sharpened by pride.
“You seem to have made yourself comfortable,” Hyacinth said, stepping inside.
Adelaide turned slowly, her smile smug. “Good morning, Duchess.”
Hyacinth closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
“Skip the pleasantries. What do you want?”
Adelaide’s smile didn’t falter. “Direct today, are we? Must be the afterglow.”
Hyacinth didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m not here to argue. I’m here for the truth. I want to know why you came back. Why you came here. Why you touched my husband like he still belonged to you.”
Adelaide’s expression flickered—just for a second. But Hyacinth caught it.
She continued, voice steady. “You don’t love him. You never did.”
Adelaide blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”
Hyacinth took a step forward. “He wasn’t the goal, was he? The title was.”
The silence in the room was sudden and loud. The crackling fireplace. The faint ticking of the grandfather clock.
Then Adelaide tilted her head. “You’re smarter than you look.”
There it was. Truth dressed in venom.
“I suppose he told you?” Adelaide asked, folding her arms.
“No,” Hyacinth said. “You did. The moment you showed up, uninvited, parading confidence like perfume. Real love doesn’t come back years later only to manipulate.”
Adelaide’s smile hardened. “You know nothing of what love requires.”
“I know it requires sacrifice. Trust. Not strategy.”
A sharp laugh escaped Adelaide’s throat. “Do you want to know the truth? Fine. You earned it.”
She walked toward Hyacinth, heels clicking on the marble. “I come from one of the richest shipping families in the Western Isles. But when my father died, he left the inheritance in a binding contract—my future wealth tied to nobility. I was the only heir. No husband, no title, no access.”
Hyacinth’s heart sank.
“So you came to Edger.”
“Yes,” Adelaide said. “He was well-bred, untitled, yet the closest path to making me legitimate. I would’ve married him. Sealed the deal. Then divorced him if I needed to.”
Hyacinth stepped back, disgust crawling up her spine. “You used him.”
“I gave him attention. Adoration. I made him feel needed. It wasn’t difficult—he was desperate for warmth in that cold mansion.”
“You left him without a word for two years.”
Adelaide’s voice tightened. “Business came first.”
Hyacinth’s hand clenched into a fist. “You abandoned him. And now you’ve come back—when it’s convenient?”
Adelaide rolled her eyes. “You don’t know what power is, dear girl. You inherited a title by accident. But I built mine.”
“No,” Hyacinth snapped. “You tried to cheat yours.”
Adelaide sneered. “And what do you think you’ve done, little duchess? Marry a man you hardly know and now parade around in silk gowns and heirloom jewelry?”
“I married a man I’m beginning to love,” Hyacinth said firmly. “And whether he loves me yet or not, I’ll be damned if I let you sabotage that for your own greed.”
Adelaide blinked at her, surprised by the steel in her voice.
Hyacinth continued. “I’ve spoken to people in town. They remember you. And none of them call what you had with Edger ‘love.’ They call it ambition. They call it scandal. Some even said they pitied him.”
“You’ve been snooping?” Adelaide hissed.
“I’ve been protecting what’s mine,” Hyacinth said. “Now listen to me carefully, Adelaide. If you come near him again—if you ever step foot in this house uninvited—you won’t have to worry about Edger’s rejection. You’ll have to worry about mine.”
Adelaide stepped forward as if to intimidate, but Hyacinth stood her ground.
And for the first time, Adelaide hesitated.
“I see,” she said slowly. “You’re not just another naive duchess. You’re dangerous.”
Hyacinth smiled coldly. “So leave. Before you find out how dangerous I can be.”
A tense silence hung between them like a thread on the verge of snapping.
Adelaide lifted her chin, smoothed her gown, and walked past her.
“Enjoy your little fairytale,” she whispered, pausing by the door. “They never last.”
The door shut behind her.
Hyacinth exhaled deeply, hands trembling—but she didn’t cry.
She stood tall.
That evening, as the sky dimmed to gold, Hyacinth returned to the drawing room where it had all begun. She ran her fingers along the mantle, thinking.
David had been right. The town had whispered. The pastry shop had been buzzing with tales of Edger and Adelaide—how she had treated him like a stepping stone, how he withdrew from society the moment she left, how he turned cold to everyone... until now.
Until her.
Patricia entered quietly, holding a small box. “This came for you, my lady.”
Hyacinth opened it. Inside was a paintbrush and a small jar of paint—a soft turquoise blue.
A note lay folded inside:
“I couldn’t sleep until I found the right colour. For your walls. For our new start. — E”
Her heart softened.
But she knew better now.
Edger was still fighting his ghosts.
And so was she.
But now, she wasn’t afraid of them.
- Writer
