Page 1 of The Baroness of Sin
Chapter One
“Can you believe it? What my gentleman is willing to do to please his lady! I am the happiest I have ever been, marrying the man I love, but the way that he makes me feel when he touches me-”
With an unladylike huff, Martha set the letter down in front of her again. She turned to her other sister, Emma, who had been placidly chewing her breakfast as Martha grew more and more agitated in front of her. Emma and Martha were both beautiful and shared a resemblance as sisters; both had long golden blonde hair and green eyes. While Martha was a tad curvier with an hourglass shape, though, Emma had a slightly lither frame, which was only punctuated more by her large round spectacles that rested gently on the end of her nose.
“Am I to assume that your letter is much the same, then?”
“Much the same as what?” Emma asked, not seemingly at all put off herself.
“This... Mine was almost improper,” Martha hesitated at the last moment, not wanting her criticism of their sister to come off as too severe.
“I suppose my letter may have been a bit informal, but we are sisters, after all,” Emma nodded, “and your sister is excited to tell you that her marriage is going well. Should we not be happy?”
“Of course, I am happy,” Martha said more quietly as she considered picking up the letter again out of desperate curiosity.
“Then why are you so put off?” Emma asked. She had always been one to encourage her younger sisters to speak their feelings amongst each other. Martha had been bothered by that just a moment ago but was now thankful.
“Iamhappy for her. Really, I am.” Martha reassured Emma, “I just never had that sort of relationship with... my late husband. I never felt the... excitement that she is expressing.” Martha considered herself for a moment. “I suppose I am a bit envious.”
Emma nodded, “It is a poor situation and an understandable one. But I am sure Harriet only wishes to express her happiness to you, not weigh you down.”
“I know.” Martha felt the tempest of emotions inside her calm until she saw a single word within the letter. One word and she read enough to glean its context.
“Child”
And just like that she felt her soul grip tightly within her chest once more. She had little pity for the fate that befell her late husband, but in those dark lonely hours of the night, she wondered, if she had the ability to sire children, might that have not turned him to another path.
But no, her father and brother had made it clear to her on multiple occasions in recent history. “To hold ourselves accountable to the sins of others is the path to ruin.” Her brother even elaborated on that point one night soon after her husband’s death.
“All good people of faith must lead by example, but to punish oneself for sins that others commit is not only poor practice but arguably trying to put ourselves in the position of our creator and savior. Hardly a humble place to be,” he said with a bit of a sad laugh.
Those words had made Martha feel much better during her mourning, but, once in a great while, doubt would still creep in.
She put down the letter and examined her black clothes. The dark colors never did her complexion justice, and she was quite done with wearing black. The same was to be said for the black drapery and the like that decorated her room for the duration of her stay in Mayfair. It was customary, even in these unfortunate circumstances, for a widow to observe a certain period of public mourning for her departed husband. Wasn’t a year of thinking of that scoundrel enough?
“I am going to host a ball,” Martha said so loudly and so suddenly that the servant who had come to clean up breakfast let out a surprised squeak at her exclamation.
“A ball?” Emma asked with a mixture of dismay and incredulity. “Why? When?” She couldn’t seem to decide which question she thought was more important.
“As soon as possible,” Martha said more calmly while standing up and smoothing her dress, “and namely for making the acquaintance of some gentlemen. If Harriet can meet the husband of her dreams, then one must surely be out there somewhere for me, filled with passion and love.”
“A ball…” Emma said thoughtfully and then with a measure of caution as to not come across as judgmental, “Is it not improper? So soon after your husband’s death?”
“It has been a year. I believe that is a proper amount of time,” Martha remarked, her tone hinting at the greater contention. She had given her former husband more than enough of her time, and he needed no more of it.
“It has been a while since we entertained in the manor. I don’t know if we are prepared for such an event in the near future,” Emma countered without much enthusiasm. She knew she wouldn’t win much ground here.
“Then it will be a proper test of me as a hostess and of the house staff,” Martha said with a triumphant tone as if the party had already been hailed as the highlight of the season, “and a fitting sort of end to my mourning. A celebration of sorts!”
“Now that is hardly proper,” Emma remarked dryly, but her sister hadn’t heard her. Martha was too busy giving her new lady maid a list of instructions to prepare for the ball.
Martha’s lady maid Letty was newly hired and often seemed shy and flustered, but Martha never minded and felt the girl was worth the patience. Letty, a young woman who was small even for her age, might just appear nervous because of her demeanor and deserved the benefit of the doubt. She had yet to make even a single error, after all.
“We are done discussing this matter, I see. Do try and keep the affair civil,” Emma instructed with only a small measure of concern in her voice.
Martha knew Emma wanted her to be happy as much as she wanted Harriet to be happy, and if that meant that people might talk, well, they were already talking. Nothing that Martha could do would make her more of a target for gossip than her former husband’s attempted kidnapping and defilement of Harriet.
Chapter Two
