Page 6 of The Darkness Within Us

I’ve always been fond of pink, and I find a delightful bedspread in a dusty rose that immediately draws my attention at Matilda’s Shop. I decorate the whole room to match. White wallpaper with sporadic chrysanthemums, after my namesake. A white oak four-poster bed with mesh hangings. Gold filigreed armchairs with plump white cushions. An elaborate vanity, painted ivory with more gold knobs. I have the ceiling painted with the colors of the daytime sky with rosy-cheeked cherubs darting through the clouds.

While that’s being done, Mrs. Lagos prepares the rest of the manor for renovation. I don’t want any reminders of the horrible man who once darkened this home, so she sees to it that all the old paintings and vases and any other heirlooms of the Pholios family are removed to the attic, until they can be sold. Until my yearlong mourning period deemed mandatory by society is up, I’m not permitted to attend events or take social calls.

And yet, not even a week goes by before the letters start pouring in. I glance over mere snippets before tossing them all in a pile near the fireplace.

I was saddened to hear of your husband’s death, Your Grace. Should you need any comforting, I hope you will call on me.

This from the Earl of Barlas.

Do not dwell on sadness, Your Grace. It is best to look on the future with hope. Might I call on you soon?

From the Earl of Varela.

I have admired you from afar for so long. Now that you are free to choose your own path, might I throw my hat in the running?

From the Duke of Simos.

And then one terribly embarrassing bit that makes my cheeks blush.

A woman in your position deserves all the pleasures life has to offer. Be my mistress, Duchess Pholios, and I will keep you satisfied.

From the Baron of Moros, who is already married.

I’ll not be anyone’s mistress. I’m done with men telling me what to do, whether it’s in the bedroom or not. The correspondences remain thoroughly ignored, though I do read them from time to time when I feel in need of revitalizing. It is a boost to one’s self esteem, even if such attentions are unwanted.

At least from powerful men.

For years I’ve dreamed of the day when I will be the one with the power, free to seek out relationships of my own choosing. I have been alone all my life, denied the simple pleasures of romantic companionship as a highborn lady. The second my mourning period is over, I have every intention of putting an end to that loneliness.

I will take a lover.

A handsome, poor—yet skilled—lover who will dote on me and love me and want nothing from me except for the earthly comforts I can give him.

Men take mistresses all the time, and as a dowager duchess, I may do the same. It is unconventional but not unheard of. I will have the power and standing to withstand any scrutiny I receive as a result. And besides, I’ll obviously find someone who can manage to be discreet.

But that’s not an option for another eleven months and two weeks. In the meantime, I focus on making new friends around the manor or supervising the improvements to the estate. Handymen can be heard hammering and sawing at all hours during the day. Painters and carpenters and mason workers come and go under the watchful eye of Mrs. Lagos and my staff. It’ll take months, or even years, before the entire place is refurbished, but that’s to be expected when I’ve inherited an estate only second in size to the royal palace of Naxos.

Alessandra’s palace.

AFTERMRS.LAGOS,THE FOOTMENare the next to be won over. Kyros properly introduces me to the rest of them, and they are delighted to hear that I’m interested in learning how to play the game of hach.

“You want to play a card higher yet in the same suit,” Doran explains while Kyros looks over my shoulder.

I grab a queen of rubies.

Kyros leans down by my ear. “Not that one. It’s too high. You want to save it. Play this one.”

He sets the six of rubies face up on the table, beating the five played earlier in the round.

“I think she gets it,” Plutus says with a glare as I scoop up his card. “You can stop helping her now.”

“Don’t be a bad sport,” Kyros fires back. “You’ve been playing this game for years. She’s just learning.”

“You’re the one who invited her. If she can’t keep up, that’s herproblem.” Realizing what he’s just said, Plutus pales. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I forgot—”

“It’s quite all right, Plutus. Perhaps if I make things a bit more interesting, your mood might improve.” I pull a necos from my pocket and lay it on the table.

“We can’t match that,” Doran says, staring at the coin.

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