Delicate

1 | Lady Tremaine

Lady Madonna Tremaine.

Her name alone brought terror to people, a cunning woman they called her— known for her schemes and cruelty. Recently widowed from her late husband, Lord Francis Tremaine, left alone with their two young daughters— Miss Anastasia and Miss Drizella Tremaine.

The funeral was kept private within the residence, condolences from the public were offered and gifts were sent to the family.  It has been a week since anyone has seen any ladies of the family, their doors remained locked from the public.

Yet after a month of grieving, it seems like the lady of the house has found yet another husband as the news of her remarrying has been the talk of the whole town; Lady Madonna Tremaine, the widow is set to marry Lord Anthony Fournier two months from now on, a wonderful headline that caused absolute chaos to the people.

Some whispered, some smiled. Cunning, the lady of the house. She and her daughters. The likes of them were dangerously alluring to men, rich ones. The people in their social class barely agreed to anything but they all united in hatred and jealousy for the Tremaine women.

Yet everyone wants to marry the Lady Tremaine at the end of the day. As soon as the lady of the house herself delivered the news of her husband passing, men rushed forward, competing for the chance to be chosen by her.

With her long curly red hair, her red lips, her mischievous blue eyes and haughty personality. With their generational wealth and additional riches from the late Lord of the family.

Who wouldn't want to marry her?

Therefore, it was no surprise that Lady Tremaine had already found a suitable gentleman for her to marry. Although, there are rumors spreading around the town that the marriage was out of contract and is for convenience. Could it be true?

What is the great Lady Tremaine planning?

With an exasperated sigh, Madonna closed the pamphlet, placing it away, out of sight. Her nostrils flared upon feeling the carriage stumble for the third time along their journey, cursing the road they were strolling in.

She leaned back onto her seat, looking outside the carriage window, eyeing the small town they were currently passing by. The houses were small, all made from wood, farm animals all over them. The people wore dirty and old gray clothes, looking at their clothes were enough to distinguish where they belonged in the social classes.

Yet it intrigued her, despite the dirty and old clothes they wore, the dirt on their faces, the soil in her hands, they still wore a bright smile. Their eyes were full of optimism and positivity. As if they didn't have a single care in the world.

The thought made her shudder. She could never live like that. Her life was perfect, she was a noble woman, her daughters were beautiful and noble like her, their father was a baron—her husband was a baron. She was a baroness.

But her husband was dead. His title was gone.

Madonna looked away from the window, taking a deep breath. She still had her title, she still had her wealth, her image and social class. She was the cunning woman everyone feared and respected.

And now she was going to remarry— to another Lord, a viscount. As soon as the wedding is done and their marriage is approved, she will be a viscountess, advancing to a higher social status.

And more wealth.

Her lips quirked at the thought of more wealth, having more meant having more jewelries, more expensive dresses, a grand lavish lifestyle.

The carriage came to a stop, pulling her out of her fever dream. Madonna looked outside the carriage window, her eyes widening with gleam as she was met with the beautiful scene of a large manor, taller than the trees around them.