Crossing the county border, one could immediately sense the change in the surrounding landscape.
The houses became sparser, the wide fields gave way to dense forest, and the land gradually rose toward the mountains. The road grew rougher, winding at times along steep cliffs. For much of the year, in places where sunlight barely reached, patches of snow and ice lingered.
It was autumn, yet the locals were already preparing for winter. The first frost of the season heralded the coming change.

The Berdmont family carriage differed from those seen in the capital and the heart of the Empire. Heavy wheels, a reinforced axle, and solid suspension allowed it to safely navigate the county’s steep and stony trails.
Liselotte Berdmont, only daughter of Count Gilbert Berdmont, was returning home after a visit to the capital. She had gone there to find a wealthy husband who might help solve her family’s financial troubles. The burden of her relatives’ obligations weighed heavily on her shoulders.
She had been glad to see her kin, whom she had not met in years, though the circumstances were not what they had all expected. By now she should have been married, yet she arrived still searching for a husband—while concealing the true reason for her situation.

Mr. and Mrs. Minfort, her maternal grandparents, welcomed her with tears in their eyes. They spoke fondly of how she had grown, matured, and how much she resembled her mother. Liselotte understood their regret— they rarely saw their daughter, who now lived in the mountains. Never had they imagined that her life would end anywhere other than the imperial court. But fate had led her to fall in love with the son of a southern count and leave them for a harsh, mountainous land.
Once, Liselotte had dreamed of such love… but that was long ago.

She had spent two weeks in Veltmont, attending countless receptions and balls. The time had been exhausting. Court dances, chatter, and etiquette wearied her, accustomed as she was to the calm of her home county. Yet that was not the hardest part. The true challenge lay in finding a suitable man. The candidate could not be chosen by chance. For a fleeting moment, she had considered a marriage of convenience, but in her situation, it made no sense. She needed funds, and the only thing she had to offer was marriage itself—and the promise of jointly managing the county in the future.

Despite her undeniable advantages—title, education, and beauty—the thought of how a potential suitor might react to the state of her family’s finances robbed her of sleep. Her digestion suffered, and the shadows beneath her eyes deepened. The men who courted her were not worth her time. Most were penniless or disinherited, hoping to find a lady who would support them. With growing irritation, she wondered why she seemed to attract swindlers like a magnet.

She was not searching for love, but for a man who would share her duties—someone she could trust, if only a little, and respect. She lived under no illusions. Everyone disappoints, and the more faith you place in someone, the greater the disappointment. That was why she wanted to approach the matter realistically. Unfortunately, she had learned painfully that to the kind of man she sought, she herself was not a desirable match. She was the risky choice.

Failure forced her to consider whether there might be another way out of the crisis. She knew nothing of accounting—only that the gold, jewels, and funds wasted on her broken engagement had worsened her family’s troubles. All because she had blindly believed in love.

The painful knot in her stomach and the throbbing in her temples never left her. She wanted to hide from the world. Every effort she made seemed to meet a wall.
“Milady,” said Mary, her companion on the journey, “we’ll soon be able to stop. My family will gladly host you.”

They were approaching the estate of Sir Luis. For a year now, he had been Mary’s husband; before that, she had served at the castle. Though only a few years apart, Liselotte treated her more like an elder sister than a former servant. Her wedding had been a beautiful event. Liselotte had rejoiced at her friend’s happiness, though she still missed her presence dearly.

“Forgive me, Mary, but this time I must decline. I wish to reach home as soon as possible,” she said firmly. She had always enjoyed the company of Sir Luis’s numerous siblings—their cheerfulness warmed her heart and stirred memories of carefree childhood days. “However… could you lend me a riding dress? And a horse?”

“But, milady!” cried Mary. “You mean to ride alone? At this time of year, the wolves can be dangerous.”
“I’ll accompany her,” said Luis, riding beside the carriage. “It’s a good idea. The bridle path is not only quicker but also much safer—wolves notwithstanding.”
“Thank you, Sir Luis,” Liselotte smiled with gratitude, then cast a reproachful glance at Mary. “Have you already forgotten that only in the capital do I allow you to call me milady?”
“Yes, Lise. Habit dies hard… too much of that court etiquette,” Mary sighed in relief, glad they were almost home. “I’ll find something that should fit you. Though you’re so small…” she muttered under her breath.

Mary’s words, though sincere, stung. Liselotte was unlike the women of the county—tall, broad-shouldered, strong. She was short, slender, with a figure that inspired protection rather than respect. She pursed her lips and said nothing.

When they arrived, children ran out of the house and surrounded the carriage, greeting Mary with joyous shouts. Two youngest boys threw themselves around her neck, while three girls—the eldest no more than thirteen—waited a little behind. All tall, sharp-featured, and bright-eyed, they looked like young amazons.
“Welcome, my lady,” said the eldest, Elise, curtsying gracefully. “How was your journey? And your stay in the capital?”

Liselotte smiled faintly. Elise was curious about the world, dreaming of the capital, of balls and elegant dances, impatient for her own debut. Liselotte understood those longings all too well—once, she had shared them.
“The journey was long but peaceful,” she replied coolly. “And the capital is as always—crowded and loud.”
“Would you come in for tea?” Elise pressed on. “I’d love to hear what it’s really like…”
“Elise!” Mary cut in sharply. “Don’t be rude. Go back inside. Liselotte doesn’t have time now.”

The children vanished into the house with evident disappointment.
“You must visit soon and tell us everything!” Elise called hopefully before the door closed behind her.

Liselotte let out a short, awkward laugh. She had no desire to do so.
“Martin,” she turned to the coachman, “water and feed the horses. Then rest. You don’t need to go on immediately since I’ll be riding.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He bowed and led the horses to the stable.

Mary took Liselotte to a room where she could change and refresh herself, while Sir Luis prepared the horses.
“I must tell you—married life is truly wonderful,” Mary said, rummaging through the wardrobe in search of old dresses.

Liselotte sat at the edge of the large marital bed. She felt uneasy occupying it; there was no other seat in the small room. The mere thought that Mary shared it with a man made her blush.
“You only say that because Sir Luis is an exceptional man—and hopelessly in love with you,” she murmured, springing to her feet.
Mary poked her head out of the wardrobe, cheeks flushed, eyes shining.
“Do you really think so?” she asked eagerly. “You know…”—she hesitated—“we’re trying for a child.”
“Mary!” Liselotte’s face went crimson. “Spare me such details!” She snatched a pillow and hurled it across the room.

Her former maid’s laughter echoed in her ears as she shook her head, trying to banish the images that most certainly did not belong there.
“You don’t have to be so shy,” Mary said, diving back into the wardrobe. “You want to marry, after all.”

The words were accurate enough, but Liselotte had never seen marriage in that light. To her, it was above all a transaction—a practical arrangement. She did not think of it in terms of passion, shared beds, or intimacy. For her, the goal was simple and necessary. She could not bear those pitying looks. She preferred everyone to believe it was her choice, not a sad necessity.
“I’ve got it!” Mary announced triumphantly, holding up a dress.
Liselotte gave it a cool once-over.
“Is that really the best you have?” she asked dryly.