"You will write to me," Mrs. Jenny whispered, only loud enough for Mary to hear. "When you are in trouble, write to me, and I will come with help."
Mary smiled and nodded, but deep down, she wondered—after what Mckenna had said, would she even be allowed to send letters? To see the outside world again? "I promise," she said anyway.
Mckenna frowned at the old lady. It seemed his darkened tone had done nothing to scare her away.
"We must leave," he said to Mary, already walking past her toward the white and purple velvet carriage. It stood tall and elegant, its frame almost glowing under the rising sun—but Mary couldn't tear her eyes away from Mckenna's shadowed gaze. Not even the grandeur of the carriage could steal her focus.
She turned to Mrs. Jenny one last time and held her hand tightly. "I must go now, Mrs. Jenny."
Mrs. Jenny squeezed her fingers. "Go now, my child."
Mary gave a soft nod and took a step forward—but paused. She turned, her eyes landing on her parents. They were busy now, ushering the servants to carry the boxes of gold inside the house. Her mother lifted a fan to her face as if the air wasn't already cold enough. Then, casually, she looked at Mary.
"Go now, my child. You found the perfect husband prospect."
Mary gripped her tense hands, turned, and walked over to where Mckenna stood. He opened the carriage door for her, but she paused right in front of him.
"When did you even prepare all this?"
Who was he? And what sort of title did he hold?
He shrugged. "Your family seems to like gold very much—more than they like you."
Mary smiled bitterly and quickly climbed into the carriage. It was even more embarrassing that he had pointed it out. Now he would think that was why she came to him—that she was just like them. A gold digger.
How then would he see her any differently?
Inside the carriage, she stared at the silver dots on the lace, her fingers roaming over the long sleeves.
Mckenna entered from the opposite side and sat close to her. Only then did she catch his scent—smoke laced with mint. It screamed danger, but the kind that lured you in and left you vulnerable.
She glanced out the door and spotted Mrs. Jenny waving her goodbye. She waved back—just as the carriage lurched into motion, sending her off balance.
"Argh," she gasped, trying to sit upright, only now realizing her hands had landed on his chest for support. A jolt, like lightning, surged through her.
She quickly pulled back, eyes fixed on the floor. "I... I'm sorry."
"Where's the bold girl from last night?" he said coolly, and she shivered.
"I don't bite, Mary... unless you step into my cage."
Mary bit her bottom lip, her heart hammering in her chest. "I'm no brave girl… I only d-did that—"
"To escape your old peer, no?" His eyes stayed fixed on her, one brow arching every time she edged further toward the side of the carriage.
Mary nodded, still avoiding his gaze.
Mckenna frowned. "We're married, Mary. Do you not know what couples do when they're married?"
"I do… n-not," she stammered. "I've never been married… sir."
"Ah," his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Sir? Mckenna is fine."
"O-okay…"
"You shouldn't move so far, Mary. Married people don't keep distance."
That was when Mary looked up at him, eyes wide. "I—I know."
"Why?" he teased. "Have you been married before?"
"No, I—well… I've seen."
"That is enough talking for the day," he said, leaning back against the carriage wall and gazing out the window at the passing trees. "I believe I've done you a favor by rescuing you, as you asked."
"Y-yes," she said quietly. "Thank you."
"Hmm," he nodded, then closed his eyes.
She looked at him now—really looked. Last night, with all the chaos and the tremor in her heart, she hadn't taken the time to notice the contour of his face… how thick and dark his lashes were, how pointed his nose, how chiseled his jaw… and dear Lord, his lips—so full and pink.
How could a man look this beautiful?
She quickly looked away, knowing she could never look into a mirror and call herself beautiful. Red hair, freckled face—how could someone like her ever be a match for him? His family would see her and judge her, maybe even judge her until she wept.
People like him—wealthy and refined—had nothing to do with ordinary girls like her.
Worrying wouldn't change anything…
She told herself that over and over, trying to steady her trembling hands and calm the hammering in her chest each time the carriage jolted over a bump in the road.
Mckenna didn't stir throughout the ride. His eyes remained closed, arms folded over his chest like none of this concerned him.
Why did he come back?
Yesterday, she had been certain—judging by the cold dismissal in his eyes—that he wouldn't. But he did.
They entered a new town, and Mary forced herself to find a reason to stay calm. She focused on the crowd outside. Unlike her own small town, this place buzzed with wealth. Carriages rolled past, men and women dressed in fine silk strolled by with fans in their hands and gloves at their wrists.
Her heart beat fast, but she kept reminding herself to stay calm. Soon, she would arrive at his home—face his wealthy family—and she needed to stay composed, just as Mrs. Jenny had taught her.
The journey stretched on. The sky had already turned a soft orange, yet they hadn't reached his place. Still, Mary tried to steady her nerves. Perhaps his estate was farther out in the countryside.
But when they left the town and entered a shadowed, deserted wood, her calm began to slip. The night crept in around them, and somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the hoot of an owl.
She leaned back against the carriage wall, her pulse pounding.
Then came the cottages, scattered along the roadside like forgotten things.
And not long after, they passed a cemetery—its iron gate twisted and old, fog curling and dancing through the tombstones.
Mary clasped her trembling hands, whispering to herself that they were only passing through. But soon, she realized what had become her new reality will soon become a nightmare.
A massive house rose from the depths of the forest, not far from the cemetery. It stood alone, surrounded by thick trees, with no cottages nearby. It was enormous—like a castle—crafted entirely from white marble.
Mary swallowed hard and turned to Mckenna, only to find his gaze already fixed on her.
"Is this… is this your home?"
He gave a small nod, his eyes still studying her. "It doesn't sit well with you?"
"It does," she said quickly, laughing nervously as she turned away to bite her lip.
"I assure you," he said smoothly, "it's full of hospitality."
Mary nodded, but her silence said otherwise.
The carriage came to a stop, and Mckenna stepped out without hesitation. But Mary couldn't move. Her fingers clutched the fabric of her dress, frozen with fear.
Then the door beside her creaked open.
Mckenna appeared, tall and imposing in his dark coat. He extended his gloved hand toward her, his voice calm and unreadable.
"Welcome to your new home."
Mary nearly shrank back into the seat—but instead, she forced herself forward, placing her hand in his and stepping out.
Mist clung to the ground, thick enough to swallow her feet. The cold wrapped around her like a shroud, sending goosebumps crawling up her spine.
She glanced to the side, watching as the carriage driver began unloading her luggage, stacking it in a quiet corner of the house.
Mary swallowed hard and curled her fingers tighter in her skirt, willing herself not to show fear.
This was better than marrying the old peer.
It had to be.
Mckenna stepped toward the towering double doors, and she followed behind him.
Without him touching the doors, they creaked open on their own, and he walked in.
Mary froze, eyes wide.
That had to be her imagination… right?
The doors didn't just open by themselves. Right? Right?