"You're going to do what?" Lady Beatrix's shrill voice echoed across the garden.
I watched from my window as Clara continued digging the small hole beneath the willow tree, her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail, mud staining her usually immaculate skirts.
"I'm burying Isabella's little pet," Clara replied, not bothering to look up. "Why are you acting so concerned now? You've never cared what I do to her before."
Lady Beatrix glanced nervously toward the house. "The Duke threatened your father. Things are different now. We can't risk angering Isabella."
Clara laughed, the sound brittle and cold. "Father has another plan. He's going to send me to live with Isabella, as her escort."
"He's what?" Lady Beatrix's face paled. "He never mentioned—"
"He just decided." Clara's smile was victorious. "It's my chance to get close to the Duke. To show him what a real beauty looks like, without a mask hiding half her face."
