Prologue

Strathmore, Scotland. November 1874

The roar of the storm echoed outside; thunder shook the window panes, and the rain lashed mercilessly against the windows of the small dwelling. It was as if the sky wept for the misfortune that weighed upon the Hesse family. Inside the countess's chamber, the atmosphere was stifling, thick with an almost tangible anguish that made each breath heavier than the last.

The candlelight flickered in the corner, casting glimmering shadows on the walls, while a faint breeze, creeping in through a crack, gently stirred the crimson velvet curtains. In the centre of the room, on the four-poster bed, the countess lay with a body ravaged by illness. Her features, once fine and delicate, were now blurred by suffering and the nearness of death. Every breath seemed like a monumental effort.

Beside her, Grace stood motionless, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on the face of the woman who had given her life, though under such peculiar circumstances that she had never been acknowledged as her true daughter. The young woman's long blonde hair was dishevelled from days of sleeplessness and tears. Despite her nineteen years, the pain she felt had aged her soul, hardening her gaze and filling her heart with uncertainty. The tears streaming down her cheeks were a testament to the sadness and confusion that engulfed her.

The girl clutched her mother's cold, trembling hand, silently pleading for the end not to come so swiftly. She could feel time slipping through her fingers, taking with it the few certainties she had in life. The countess, weak, could barely move her lips, but she sensed her daughter's presence. With visible effort, she reached out her free hand, seeking the touch that, in that moment, was the only thing offering her comfort.

" Grace? " she asked in a barely audible whisper. Her voice was little more than a murmur, a shadow of what it once had been. She didn't open her eyes, too drained to muster the strength. " Is that you? "

" Yes, mother, " Grace replied softly, though her voice was broken, bringing the countess's hands to her cheek. The warmth of her skin contrasted with her mother's coldness. In these moments of intimacy, when no one else was present, she could allow herself to call her " mother, " though she would never have done so in public.

A faint sigh escaped the countess's lips, and her face, etched with pain and fatigue, relaxed slightly. Despite being on the verge of death, there was a hint of serenity in her as she listened to her daughter's voice.

" I'm so sorry for the life I've given you, my darling… " she murmured with difficulty, guilt lacing every word. " Forgive me for not giving you the place you should have had… " Her voice grew increasingly fragile, as if speaking was draining the last of her strength.

Grace bowed her head, feeling as though the pain was suffocating her. She knew what her mother was referring to. Her life had been anything but ordinary. The lie they had maintained since the execution of her father, unjustly accused of treason, had forced her mother to hide her under a false identity. To the world, Grace was nothing more than a maid's daughter, hidden in the shadow of the countess—the daughter who was never meant to be known.

" I've failed you… " The countess's voice cracked, and a suppressed sob fought its way out of her chest.

The young woman shook her head fiercely, squeezing her mother's hands, as if doing so could erase the regrets consuming her.

" No… you didn't fail me, mother. You gave me everything I needed, " she said in a trembling voice. " I haven't been unhappy. I've had a full life by your side. "

The countess managed a sad smile, though she still felt the weight of guilt. To her, nothing she had done seemed enough. The burden of the difficult choices she had made loomed over her like a stone too heavy to lift.

"Everything I did… I did for your safety. But even so… I took away what was rightfully yours." The words seemed to drag out of her mouth, each one more difficult than the last. "You were never meant to live as a maid, hiding who you are."

Grace didn't know what to say. Her mother had decided, for her own good, that no one should know her true identity. Only the closest confidantes, like Lesly, knew the truth. And though Grace herself had accepted the life she lived, she had never felt resentment. Quite the opposite—she had always understood the need for the deception.

The countess took a deep breath, a rough sound that filled the room in the silence between them. She knew there wasn't much time left, but there was still more to say, and she didn't want to leave without ensuring Grace had heard everything.

"I've left all my possessions in your name..." she continued, her voice growing ever more fragile. "No one will be able to take away what is yours by right. Remember, though your surname is Aylett, you are… you are a Collier, the legitimate daughter of the Count and Countess of Hesse."

The impact of her words echoed in Grace's mind. It felt as though the world around her was crumbling. Tears welled up in her eyes once more, not because of what her mother was telling her, but because soon she would no longer be by her side. No amount of wealth or possessions could fill the void that her passing would leave in her heart.

The countess closed her eyes, exhausted, but she wasn't finished. There was one final revelation, one that was difficult for her to voice.

"I am not only leaving you my possessions..." she said in a raspy voice. "I have arranged a marriage for you, with the future Duke of Symes."

Horror washed over Grace's face. An arranged marriage? Now? It was the last thing she expected to hear. Throughout her life, her mother had protected her from the intrigues and demands of high society, and now she was asking her to accept a fate she didn't want.

"No… you can't ask that of me..." Grace stammered, unable to hold back her tears. "I can't marry someone I don't know; someone I don't love."

The countess looked at her with sorrow, her eyes already clouded by the veil of death.

"I know, my dear..." she whispered. "But you must understand that I do not ask this on a whim. It is the only way to secure your future. The Duke will give you the life I could not… he will grant you a place in society… and, most importantly, he will give you safety."

Grace trembled from head to toe. Desperation consumed her. She didn't want a loveless marriage, but at the same time, she knew her mother would not die in peace if she refused. But why now, after hiding her for so long, did her mother want her to step into the world?

The countess tried to move her hand weakly to brush it across her daughter's tear-streaked cheeks.

"Please..." she begged. "Only then will I be able to rest in peace, knowing you will be safe."

Grace broke down in sobs once more. She couldn't deny her mother's final request.

"I will," she whispered at last, her voice shattered. "I'll marry the Duke. I promise."

A smile of relief crossed the countess's face, and her eyes softened. She knew her daughter would honour her last wish. Thank God, she had inherited her father's strength and sense of duty.

The countess's hand wandered over Grace's face one last time, and then, with a deep sigh, her body relaxed. Death claimed her gently, as the storm outside continued to rage.

Grace's muffled cry was the only thing that broke the silence in the room. She leaned over her mother's lifeless body, letting her tears fall freely onto the still chest of the woman who had given her life. The emptiness in her heart was unbearable, and the promise she had just made haunted her with every passing second.

"I love you… I will always love you," she whispered through her sobs. "Thank you for everything you gave me..."

The wind battered the window once more, as if nature itself wept alongside her. And with the death of the countess, the life Grace had known until that moment died too.