The dining room fell silent after Clara's departure. I sat alone at the head of the table, her parting words still hanging in the air. The momentary satisfaction I'd felt from standing up to her had dimmed, replaced by an uneasy foreboding.
My thoughts scattered when the door swung open again. Baron Reginald Beaumont – my father – entered with Lady Beatrix close behind him. His eyes immediately fixed on where I sat.
"Isabella," he said, his voice tight. "What are you doing in your mother's chair?"
I met his gaze steadily. "Sitting."
Lady Beatrix made a scandalized noise. "Such impertinence! Reginald, you must—"
"It's my last night here," I interrupted. "One dinner in my mother's place seemed appropriate."
My father's jaw tightened. He glanced between me and the chair as if debating whether this battle was worth fighting.
"Lady Beatrix should sit there," he finally said. "She is the lady of this house."
