the Villainess they took for granted

The morning Marian left Valmont, the household was already in motion.

Her trunks had been loaded before breakfast.

Most of them contained the clothes she had brought with her when she had left the capital a year and a half ago. Some had been altered during her stay at Valmont, others refreshed and redesigned rather than replaced.

There was no reason to spend unnecessarily.

House Valmont could afford comfort.

It could no longer afford carelessness.

Marian made one last inspection of the carriage before turning toward the entrance of the house.

Her father was coming down the steps.

He had a document tucked beneath one arm and the unmistakable expression of a man who had been working since dawn.

”You are leaving already?”

Marian smiled.

”If I stay another hour, you’ll find another reason to keep me here.”

”I might.”

”You see?”

He stopped in front of her.

For a moment, he simply looked at his daughter.

She was smiling.

Not the polite smile she had learned to give whenever someone asked whether she was well.

A genuine one.

There was something lighter in her expression.

Something he had not seen often enough over the past year.

”You’re certain you want to go?”

Marian glanced toward the waiting carriage.

”Of course.”

”The capital?”

”Yes.”

”Why?”

She looked back at him as though the answer were obvious.

”I miss it.”

Her father was quiet.

For most of Marian’s life, the capital had been home.

She had spent more years there than she had at Valmont.

He knew how much she loved it.

And perhaps, more importantly, he knew why she had stayed away.

She had needed the distance.

The quiet.

The time.

After everything that had happened, he had never asked her when she intended to return.

He had simply waited.

Now she wanted to go.

Perhaps that was enough.

Perhaps his daughter was finally beginning to live again.

A faint smile touched his face.

”Then go.”

Marian smiled back.

”Thank you.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

”Take care of yourself.”

”I will.”

”And don’t let the capital overwhelm you.”

”It won’t.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Marian laughed softly.

”All right. I’ll try.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from him.

For a moment, they stood there without speaking.

Then Marian leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

”I’ll write.”

”You’d better.”

”And I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

”I’ll hold you to that.”

She stepped toward the carriage.

Her father remained where he was.

He watched as she climbed inside.

Before the door closed, Marian looked back.

He gave her a small nod.

She returned it.

Then the door shut.

The carriage began to move.

For the first few miles, Marian watched the familiar countryside pass beyond the window.

She had spent a year and a half at Valmont.

Long enough for the seasons to change.

Long enough for grief to become quieter.

Long enough for her to understand that sorrow did not have to disappear for life to continue.

At first, she had thought of Cassian constantly.

Every day.

Then less often.

Eventually, there were entire days when she could go without crying.

She had mourned him.

She had loved him.

And her family had not simply accepted his disappearance and left it at that.

Her father had made inquiries through every channel available to him.

Valmont’s retainers had questioned travelers and officials in the region where Cassian had disappeared. Messages had been sent to Ashford. Reports had been requested from the Imperial authorities.

They had searched.

They had waited.

They had looked for anything that might tell them that Cassian had survived.

Nothing came of it.

No body was found.

No letter arrived.

No belongings were recovered that could establish his death.

No credible sighting ever reached them.

For the first few months, Marian had asked about every report.

Then she had waited for the next.

Eventually, there were fewer reports to give her.

Then none at all.

The Empire had come to regard Cassian as presumed dead.

Her father had never told her to stop hoping.

He had never told her that Cassian was certainly gone.

He simply stopped asking whether she had heard anything.

And Marian, little by little, understood what he was trying to tell her.

They had done everything they could.

There was nothing more they could do.

Hope had not disappeared.

It had simply changed.

It was no longer something she could build her life around.

Cassian was presumed dead.

Marian had finally accepted that.

It had hurt.

It still did, sometimes.

But it no longer consumed her.

She had learned how to remember him without falling apart.

She had loved him.

She had waited for him.

She had mourned him.

But eighteen months was a long time to remain standing at the same door, waiting for someone who might never return.

Life had continued.

Eventually, she had learned to continue with it.

And perhaps that was why she was smiling now.

She turned back toward the window.

The capital was waiting.

The thought brought a strange warmth to her chest.

She had missed it.

The streets.

The shops.

The gardens.

The endless movement.

The familiar faces.

The social gatherings she had once complained about only when they lasted too long.

She even missed getting dressed for them.

There were dresses in her trunks that she had not worn in eighteen months.

Some had been altered at Valmont.

A few had been redesigned entirely.

She had no intention of replacing her wardrobe simply for the sake of the season.

But she had missed having somewhere to wear it.

She smiled to herself.

It felt almost absurd to be looking forward to something so ordinary.

And yet she was.

For the first time in a long while, Marian wanted things again.

She wanted to see her friends.

She wanted to laugh.

She wanted to attend dinners and balls.

She wanted to walk through shops and admire things she had no intention of buying.

She wanted to dress beautifully simply because she could.

She wanted to wake up and decide what she wanted to do that day.

She wanted a life that belonged to her.

Not the life she had once imagined.

Not the one that had ended with Cassian’s disappearance.

Something new.

Something of her own.

Marian leaned back.

She had another reason for returning, of course.

One she had not told her father.

House Valmont had survived.

But the duchy was not what it had been.

The dissolution of her engagement had cost her family dearly.

Her father had paid the compensation without hesitation.

He had never blamed her for it.

Never made her feel guilty.

He had chosen his daughter’s happiness over the advantages her marriage could have brought.

Marian had never forgotten that.

But the money had still been paid.

And the consequences remained.

A duchy was not something that could simply tighten its belt for a year and recover.

There were estates to maintain.

Vassals to support.

Workers to pay.

Military obligations.

Trade.

Taxes.

Roads.

Granaries.

Warehouses.

Thousands of people whose livelihoods were tied, directly or indirectly, to Valmont.

Marian had considered whether there was something she could invent that might help.

She had knowledge from another world.

There were certainly things she knew that could be useful.

But knowing how something worked was not the same as being able to create an industry around it.

She could not simply invent soap and expect a duchy to recover.

There would be materials to secure.

Workshops to establish.

Workers to train.

Capital to invest.

Markets to develop.

Buyers to convince.

Distribution networks to create.

And even if she succeeded, one new product would not solve the financial problems of an entire duchy.

She had time to think about such things.

Perhaps one day she would find something useful.

But Valmont needed stability now.

And there was one thing Marian could realistically offer.

Marriage.

She could not inherit the duchy herself.

That much was certain.

But her children could.

It had been one of the important considerations in the marriage negotiations surrounding her first engagement.

A son born to the Duke of Valmont’s only daughter could eventually inherit the title.

That meant Marian’s marriage carried a value beyond her own fortune.

Whoever married her would not simply be marrying a duke’s daughter.

He could, one day, become the father of the next Duke of Valmont.

Marian understood exactly what that meant.

She was valuable.

And she intended to make use of it.

Not because her father had asked her to.

He never would.

If she told him that she was returning to the capital specifically to find a wealthy or politically advantageous husband, he would probably refuse to let her carry such a burden.

He loved her too much for that.

So she had told him the truth.

She missed the capital.

She wanted to return.

Both things were true.

But privately, Marian had made her own decision.

She would enter the season.

She would meet the eligible men.

She would consider their families, their fortunes, their positions, their characters.

And she would find a marriage that could give House Valmont room to breathe again.

But it would not be only for her family.

That was something Marian had realized during her time at Valmont.

She wanted a future for herself, too.

She had once chosen love.

She did not regret it.

She had loved Cassian.

That had been real.

But life had not given her the future she had imagined with him.

Now she was twenty-three.

She was alive.

She had recovered.

And she wanted to live.

Not simply endure what came next.

Live.

Perhaps she would find happiness again.

Perhaps she would even fall in love again.

She didn’t know.

For now, she only knew that she was ready to step forward.

Marian looked out the window.

The first towers of the capital had appeared in the distance.

Her smile returned.

There it was.

Home.

--

It was late afternoon on the fifth day of her journey when the carriage passed through the city gates.

Marian immediately leaned toward the window.

The familiar streets unfolded before her.

Merchants called from their stalls.

Carriages moved through the crowded avenues.

People hurried along the pavements.

The city seemed almost unchanged.

And yet Marian felt as though she were seeing it for the first time.

She had forgotten how much she loved this.

The noise.

The movement.

The endless stream of people.

The capital was alive.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt as though she was, too.

Her carriage turned toward the Valmont residence.

Marian sat back.

She had no idea what the coming season would bring.

She only knew that she was going to meet it.

And somewhere in the heart of the same capital she had once called home, another life had been unfolding without her.

The Crown Prince she had once known was no longer Crown Prince.

Adrian was Emperor now.

They had not seen each other since his coronation.

Marian had heard enough about him to know that he had changed.

Everyone said so.

But she had no intention of dwelling on it.

Whatever happened between them belonged to another part of her life.

For now, she was returning to the capital.

Returning to society.

Returning to herself.

And she had no idea that Adrian had already learned of her arrival.

--

Tbc