I snapped at the maid who hovered too close as she attempted to adjust my veil. "For heaven's sake, be careful! That's imported lace!"
The girl flinched, her fingers trembling as she stepped back. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—resplendent in ivory silk and Belgian lace, my hair arranged in elegant curls beneath my veil. Today was finally the day I'd become Marchioness Fairchild.
"Clara, darling, try not to terrorize the help completely." Mother swept into the room, already dressed in her finest gown of deep burgundy. "At least not until after the ceremony."
I turned to face Lady Beatrix Beaumont, whose calculating eyes assessed me from head to toe. Despite her scolding tone, I could see the satisfaction in her expression. This marriage was as much her victory as mine.
"The servants need to know their place," I said dismissively. "Especially today."
