Chapter 12: A Deal With The Devil
As soon as Galina left, Lydia was left alone again. She sat quietly on the bed, holding her book, flipping through the pages without really reading.
A soft knock came at the door. Before she could answer, her uncle walked in. His expression was as cold as always.
"The dressmaker is here," he said, his voice calm but sharp. "Would you prefer coming down, or shall she come up?"
Lydia didn’t even lift her head.
"She can come up," she answered quietly.
Not long after, the dressmaker came bustling into the room, carrying rolls of fabric and a small wooden box. She was a cheerful woman, always ready with something to say.
As she fitted Lydia’s corset, she started gossiping without shame.
"Poor child," she said while tugging at the laces. "Imagine Lord Alexander marrying you off to a man four times your age. It’s a crime, if you ask me."
Lydia said nothing, just stared at the mirror in front of her.
"If it were me," the dressmaker chuckled, "I’d count myself lucky. A count! A grand house! Jewels! I’d be the luckiest girl alive."
She winked at Lydia, expecting her to laugh along.