A Reign of Roses

A Gilded Cage

The ballroom was a dazzling maze of glittering chandeliers and swirling gowns, the music weaving a lively melody that seemed to mock Anastasia's mood. She stood by the refreshment table, trying to avoid the clutches of Lord Samuel Devereux and his rehearsed charm. A moment of peace was all she sought, but Emeline Moreau had other plans.

"Oh, Lady Anastasia," Emeline cooed, her lips curling into a saccharine smile as she sidled closer. "I hear you've become quite the mystery lately. Tell me, is it true that you've been sneaking away to visit a certain... gentleman friend?"

Anastasia stiffened, her fingers tightening around the delicate stem of her glass. "Whatever you think you've heard, Emeline, I assure you it's nothing worth repeating."

Emeline tilted her head, her auburn curls catching the light like a halo. But there was nothing angelic in her green eyes as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Oh, come now, Anastasia. Secrets have a way of slipping out, especially when they involve someone as... unfit for a lady of your stature as a common soldier."

The jab landed with precision, but Anastasia refused to let her see the sting. She met Emeline's gaze, her tone icy. "Perhaps you should worry less about my affairs and more about your penchant for gossip. It's unbecoming, even for you."

Before Emeline could retaliate, a shadow fell over them. Anastasia's father, the imposing Lord de Lemoine, approached, his presence silencing Emeline mid-breath. With practiced grace, Emeline curtsied, her demeanor transforming into one of demure respect.

"Lord de Lemoine," she said sweetly, "how wonderful to see you. I was just admiring your daughter's beauty and grace. Truly, she is the jewel of the evening."

Her father nodded curtly, his sharp eyes narrowing on Anastasia. "Excuse us, Lady Moreau," he said, his tone a polite dismissal.

Emeline retreated with a smirk, leaving Anastasia bracing herself for what she knew was coming.

"Anastasia," her father began, his voice low but firm as he led her to a quieter corner of the room. "Do you understand the position you place our family in with your... frivolities?"

"I don't know what you mean, Father," she replied, though the heat rising to her cheeks betrayed her.

"You know exactly what I mean," he snapped, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the ballroom. "The soldier. You think I'm blind to your escapades? You are a de Lemoine, Anastasia. Your duty is to this family, to its name, and to its future. That man is a distraction—a dangerous one at that."

Her pulse quickened, but she lifted her chin defiantly. "He is not what you think."

"Enough." Her father's eyes flashed, and he took a deep breath, visibly reining in his temper. "You will cease whatever... dalliance this is. It is beneath you. I have found you a match worthy of your station."

Anastasia froze. She knew what was coming but hearing it aloud felt like a blow.

"Lord Samuel Devereux," her father continued, his tone softening as though to make the announcement more palatable. "He is an excellent man with a fine estate. He will provide you with a future that ensures our family's standing."

Her stomach churned at the thought of Samuel's practiced smiles and hollow compliments. "I cannot marry him, Father."

"You will do as you are told," he said, his voice a finality that left no room for argument. "This conversation is over. Compose yourself. You're attracting attention."

As her father turned and strode away, Anastasia stood rooted to the spot, the weight of his words pressing down on her like the heavy fabric of her gown. Her eyes flicked across the room, searching for Maggie, for anyone who could offer her solace. But all she found was Samuel, his gaze already fixed on her from across the ballroom.