Page 2 of A Heart Disguised 1

“Meredith? What’s sent you racing through the estate like a knight late for battle?” I asked, attempting to wring out my soaked attire.

Panting slightly, she fixed me with a look that managed to be both stern and affectionate. “Your father, Lord Aldercrest, has requested your presence,” she said, her words tumbling out like pebbles down a hillside. “He wishes to speak with you.”

Dread pooled in my stomach. It was rare for Father to summon us, especially me. My mind raced with possibilities, each more ominous than the last. Rosalind and Lily exchanged worried glances, their usual banter silenced by the gravity of Meredith’s announcement.

“And you two,” Meredith said, gesturing to Rosalind and Lily with an air of finality that brooked no debate, “must attend as well.”

As Meredith ushered us from the water, her hands fluttering like nervous birds, I couldn’t shake the sensation that I was less a person and more a soggy loaf of bread she was intent on rescuing from a puddle. Our clothes clung to our skin, but there was no time for drying off. With a sense of foreboding, we allowed ourselves to be herded back toward the manor, our frolic in the river a distant memory.

Aldercrest Estate sprawled out before us like a monument to generations of ambition. Its towers reached for the sky as if trying to escape earthly concerns, while servants scurried about with the precision of ants on a hill. They polished, pruned, and preened until the manor sparkled like a gemstone in the heart of Aethoria. The grandeur never failed to impress, with its soaring spires and sprawling gardens meticulously tended by a legion of green-thumbed guardians.

Gardeners snipped away at the willow-lined approach with shears that allowed no hint of imperfection, while inside, maids dusted and polished in a well-rehearsed dance that left no traceof human habitation. It was a sight that could make poets weep and painters toss aside their brushes in despair—a beehive of activity that transformed Aldercrest into a living, breathing work of art.

Rosalind and Lily were whisked away by their respective retinues of maids who clucked like mother hens. Each sister was enveloped in a flurry of towels and concern as they ascended the grand staircase toward bedchambers boasting views that rivaled paintings—each room a kingdom unto itself.

I veered off the main path, heading toward a far less grand destination: a small cottage tucked discreetly behind the manor. Its stone walls were smothered in ivy, a verdant embrace that softened its edges. This quaint abode had been my world since birth—my sanctuary with my late mother Lydia, and now shared with Meredith and her husband Bernard.

Old Bernard, with his perpetual squint as if he were trying to unravel life’s mysteries through sheer willpower alone, and the ever-fussing Meredith had become my surrogate family within the cottage’s comforting embrace. It was a stark contrast to the opulence of the manor, but it held the warmth of home that no amount of gilded furnishings could match.

Russet padded silently beside me, his eyes fixed on my face as if sensing my unease. His tan fur gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and I couldn’t resist reaching down to scratch behind his ears. He leaned into my touch, a low rumble of contentment vibrating through his chest.

As we approached, the scent of lavender and rosemary wafted from the small herb garden I tended nearby. Russet’s nose twitched, and he let out a soft sneeze, causing me to chuckle. The cottage’s windows glowed with a welcoming light, and for a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the nostalgia that clung to the place like morning dew.

Meredith, however, had no time for such sentimentality. With a bustle of activity, she all but hauled me indoors, her hands fluttering with barely contained anxiety, her fussing reaching new heights. Russet slipped in behind us, his nails clicking softly on the wooden floor.

“Look at the state of you!” Meredith exclaimed, her gaze lingering on my damp, dirt-streaked clothes. “It’s a wonder you haven’t caught your death in this state. And your hair!” she lamented, picking at the ends of my sodden locks.

She clucked her tongue like a disapproving hen as she ushered me into the bathroom where Bernard was busy playing alchemist with hot buckets of water and the tub. The steam rose in coiling tendrils, filling the room with a comforting warmth that did little to soothe Meredith’s agitation. “Heavens above,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Lord Aldercrest would have a fit if he saw his son in such a state!”

I raised an eyebrow at my reflection in the mirror—a sorry sight indeed with mud splattered up to my knees. Russet had followed us into the bathroom, settling himself in the corner with a soft whine.

“And what would he say?Who is this urchin mucking up my floors?”

I smirked at Meredith’s reflection in the mirror as she continued her tirade about my half brothers’ impeccable presentation.

“Just look at Lord Henry and Lord Gavin,” she said, her voice reaching a fevered pitch as she untangled the snarls in my hair with brisk efficiency. “Always so spotless, so handsome. All the women are falling at their feet, and here you are, a mess of river water and mud!”

A smirk played at my lips as I shrugged off my clothes, leaving me in nothing but my undergarments. “Ah yes, Henry and Gavin—the epitome of nobility,” I drawled with all thesarcasm I could muster, tossing my hair back with an exaggerated flourish. “Because Father would surely recognize me amid his brood of spotless sons.”

Meredith scowled but couldn’t suppress a smile at my antics. Russet’s tail thumped against the floor, as if agreeing with my sentiment.

“And really, if I roamed the halls with hair down and clad in white, Father might very well think Mother’s ghost had come to haunt him—though I doubt he’d be so lucky.”

Bernard grunted from his post by the tub—a noise that might’ve been laughter or agreement; with Bernard, one could never quite tell.

Meredith tutted, her hands never ceasing in their ministrations. “You mustn’t speak ill of your father,” she admonished, though the ghost of a smile played at the corners of her lips.

I arched an eyebrow, my tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And why not? Everyone knows Henry and Gavin are the very picture of Aldercrest nobility. But me?” I shook my head, sending droplets of water flying. Russet ducked, narrowly avoiding the spray. “I’m merely the shadow that trails behind them, easily overlooked.”

Despite her earlier chastisement, Meredith’s eyes twinkled with a fondness that belied her stern expression. “Easily overlooked, you say? We’ll see about that. Now, into the tub with you before your father sends for you looking like a drowned rat.”

With a resigned sigh, I allowed myself to be ushered into the tub. The hot water enveloped me in a warm embrace, soothing my muscles and washing away the remnants of our riverside escapade. Russet edged closer, resting his head on the rim of the tub, his warm breath tickling my arm.

Meredith continued her fussing as she plucked at my hair like it was spun from gold rather than simple straw-blondstrands. “All that dirt! You’ll be the death of me yet. Now stay still while I scrub you down,” she commanded, brandishing a bar of soap like a knight would his sword.

As the soap suds gathered around me like clouds at bath time’s summit, I let out a sigh. If cleanliness was next to godliness, then surely after this bath I’d be saintly enough for Father’s audience—whatever it may entail. Russet’s gentle whine seemed to echo my thoughts, a reminder that no matter what awaited me, I wouldn’t face it alone.

With Meredith’s relentless scrubbing and prodding finally at an end, I stood before the looking glass, a stranger staring back at me. The reflection was my own, yet it seemed almost unrecognizable, draped as it was in the finery of Aethoria’s nobility. The kaftan I wore was of a deep forest green, its rich hue setting off the vivid green of my eyes. The fabric was a far cry from the sumptuous silks Henry and Gavin donned daily, but it was fine enough—a soft wool that fell in gentle folds around my slender frame.

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