The note in his trembling hand taunted him, and the words faded to a blur, wobbling behind the haze that suddenly formed over his eyes.
His father was dying.
As expected at the sight of news like this, his heart dropped to his stomach like a rock.
It did not last long, however. The rock disintegrated in his stomach, and his normal heartbeat returned. The initial agony ebbed away, paving the way for the customary resentment that brewed within him whenever the thought of the man accountable for his being crossed his mind.
“Finally.”
It was a broken whisper that left his cracked lips, and a small smile formed on his face.
All his life, his brother had been their father’s alpha and omega. His brother was the sole individual who held any significance, receiving all the accolades and titles, while he, who some may argue had the superior intellect between the two, remained entrenched in the shadow of a man who was deemed inferior to him.
It wouldn’t be that way anymore.
A sharp pang coursed through his heart. As far back as he could recall, nothing had consumed him more than the yearning for his father’s validation. And yet, despite his tireless efforts, he could never do enough to earn it.
He swallowed, the acrid taste of bitterness lingering in his mouth.
It was always the same. His elder brother was the source of his affliction, the cause of his suffering.
From a distance, he had watched his father and brother bond over shared interests, discussing the family enterprises, estates, and titles. Meanwhile, he had been resigned to playing second fiddle to a brother who barely acknowledged his existence.
He was alone, utterly and woefully alone, and it was unfair.
Naturally, he dared not confront his father or brother about this predicament. Should he have attempted to voice his grievances, he knew all too well that they would have likely responded with callous amusement, showing no regard for his feelings.
It was a twisted situation indeed. It seemed as though the harder he tried to win his father’s approval, the less his father cared.
The letter crumbled into a ball in his hand, and his mouth curled in an angry snarl.
He could vividly recall his younger self gazing up at his father and brother with unbridled adoration. The more they pushed him aside, the more that adoration twisted and turned into jealousy. Eventually, it had evolved into a muted frustration and now simmered into an all-consuming animosity, a searing and intense loathing that burned within him.
A laugh escaped his lips. It was a shocking sound, one that almost took him by surprise.
Had he truly not laughed in so long that the sound shocked him?
He was barely a man when his father had sent him away and made it no secret that he was embarrassed by his needy son and had preferred only one child.
Now, a smile formed on his lips, though it held no joy or warmth.
The old man was dying.
“It is my turn.”
The words tumbled from his lips, anger seeping from every syllable, and his fist landed against the wall.
“MY TURN!”
It was, he decided. It was finally his turn to get what he deserved and what he was owed.
The resentment that had nearly boiled over faded, making way for a sense of satisfaction.
Oh, how the tables had turned. Another barking laugh escaped his lips, and he threw the crumbled letter into the fireplace. With a flicker of amusement, he watched as it disintegrated into ash before his very eyes.
This changed everything…

Chapter 1

Margery Owen raced through the thoroughfare with an urgency that matched the frenzied pace of her thoughts. With a sack of flour clasped tightly in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other, her arms strained under the weight. As she stepped quickly down the street, she failed to notice the well-dressed gentleman walking towards her, lost in his own thoughts.
The collision was sudden and jarring, sending both of them tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess. Flour and eggs flew everywhere, dusting the air with a cloud of white and yellow. Margery landed with a thud, her breath escaping her in a whoosh as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.
The gentleman was sprawled next to her, his fine clothes now stained with flour and yolk. He groaned in pain and confusion, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Margery’s face.
The impact sent them both reeling, dazed and disoriented, before they gradually regained their bearings and dusted off their clothes. Margery’s countenance was ruddy with mortification and unease, while the gentleman’s visage registered a curious blend of irritation and astonishment.
“What in the blazes?”
The words left the man’s lips suddenly, and a furious blush rose to Margery’s cheeks. His face was covered in flour, and were she not so utterly embarrassed by her hand in the uncomfortable situation, she may have laughed.
Margery’s heart raced as she tried to regain her composure. So lost was she in her own ruminations that she had failed to take note of the gentleman’s approach. “I beg your pardon, sir!” she exclaimed, her voice betraying a slight tremble. “I didn’t see you there.”
As if it was not bad enough that she had to find a way to explain the missing sack of flour, she now had this stranger glaring at her angrily as if she were to blame for all the world’s problems.
“Obviously,” he sneered, “you’re as blind as a bat.”
Margery’s hackles rose at his reproach, a surge of indignation coursing through her veins. She had always prided herself on her sharp eyesight, but perhaps he had a point. After all, she had collided with him head-on. As she took a closer look at him, she couldn’t help but agree that the situation seemed absurd. He was a towering figure, with broad shoulders and a countenance so forbidding that passersby averted their gaze.
She didn’t know what to say to him, so she remained quiet, knowing that she shouldn’t anger him further.
“Well, you should watch where you’re going,” he said, clearly annoyed. Margery couldn’t help but feel frustrated by his tone.
“Might I ask why you’re carrying a sack of flour in the middle of the street? Are you mad?” he asked, his words laced with irony. The scowl had not disappeared from his face, and in that instant, Margery wished that she could make herself smaller.
With that not being an option, she knew that she had no choice. She lifted her chin and faced him with her own strong glare. After all, she thought with a small smile, she was not a redhead for nothing. Her fiery temper was one that had left many a man speechless.
“I am volunteering at the Society for the Relief of the Destitute Sick. We’re making bread for the poor, sir,” she replied, trying to remain polite despite the gentleman’s rude demeanor.
The gentleman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her explanation. “You’ve ruined my suit! Do you have any idea how expensive this fabric is?” he exclaimed, gesturing to his flour-covered clothing.
Margery rolled her eyes, struggling to contain her frustration. “It’s just flour. It’ll wash out,” she said, hoping to diffuse the situation.
But the gentleman was not about to let her off the hook. “Just flour? Do you have any idea how much it costs to have a suit like this made?” he said, his anger palpable.
Margery couldn’t help but feel exasperated. She had no intention of ruining the man’s clothing, and she was doing her best to help those in need. She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, hoping that the gentleman would see reason.
Alas, it was not meant to be, for the man still looked at her with a dark scowl.
Margery sighed. This was the last thing she needed.
“I really am sorry, sir,” she said again, her voice strained. “I meant no harm, and it was not my intention to cause trouble.”
“Not your intention?”
The man sneered at her irritably and crossed his arms. “Whatever your intentions were, I will have you know that you indeed caused trouble.”
Margery bit on her lip to calm herself. “I am sorry, sir.”
The man gave her a cold stare. “That doesn’t excuse you from being careless. You should watch where you’re going.”
Margery felt her irritation grow. “And you should learn some manners. You can’t simply demand apologies from strangers in such a manner, especially when I have already tendered my apologies multiple times!”
Despite the gentleman’s continued ire, Margery remained steadfast. She had already apologized repeatedly and felt that the man’s anger was unwarranted. As she stood there, flour and eggs covering her person, she couldn’t help but ponder why he was making such a fuss over a spoiled suit. It seemed a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, particularly given that she was volunteering her time to aid those in need.
“I apprehend that your attire may have suffered some damage, sir,” she began in a composed manner, “yet I implore you to consider that my intention was solely to bring about some benevolence in this world. Would it not be more judicious to maintain your composure over a trivial matter such as a speck of flour?”
Margery had hoped that her words would allow the man to see reason, but it soon became apparent that it had the opposite effect.
“I…”
He spluttered indignantly and shook his head.
“I will have you know that I am a member of the upper echelon of society, madam. I demand respect, and you shall give it to me!”
Margery scoffed audibly at this.
Margery found herself increasingly incensed by the gentleman’s insistent demands for respect, which only served to magnify the chasm between their respective social standings. As she absently brushed off the flour from her dress, she was keenly aware of the class divide that separated them. She had long been aware of the strict societal structures that governed their world, but the encounter with the gentleman brought into sharp relief the glaring disparities between their daily lives.
“Respect, sir? You are covered in flour. You look like a walking pastry, I will have you know!”
The words fell from her lips before she could reconsider it, and it took all her self-control to refrain from clapping a hand over her mouth in regret.
She should not have said that, Margery knew at once.
The gentleman’s face darkened at Margery’s words, and for a few moments, there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Margery could feel the weight of her mistake settling on her shoulders. She had let her frustration get the best of her, and now she had offended the gentleman even further.
His face had turned red. She was not quite certain whether it was with anger or embarrassment.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was higher that it had been, and she smirked to herself.
“I…you…I…well, that is beside the point, isn’t it?”
She sighed audibly and looked back at the man. His lips were pursed into a thin line as he glared at her.
Despite the admonishing thoughts she’d had about respect for upper society, a soft giggle left her lips.
“Oh, pray do not take offense, Your Grace,” she said now, amusement taking hold of her. It was rather typical, she thought. Of course she would be the one to run into a nobleman and cover the poor man in flour. Another laugh fell from her lips as she looked at him.
“You must admit,” she said with unconcealed amusement, “that the situation is rather humorous indeed.”
The man’s face darkened even further, and his scowl deepened.
“I will not,” he said in a deep voice, the seriousness evident in the timbre of his tone. “Not only have you ruined a perfectly good suit, but I have had a pleasant evening that you, madam, managed to ruin!”
Margery was at a loss for words. Never in her life had she met someone so utterly humorless, and irritation brewed in her.
“Fine,” she spat, her own irritation finally boiling over.
“I apologize, Your Grace, for the umpteenth time. If it means so much to you, I admit that I was entirely at fault for this awful, awful humiliation you suffered.”
She glared at him irritably. Yes, indeed, how dare she try to make the world a better place and in the process inconvenience His Grace.
The man was acting like spoiled child, but Margery knew that there was no use in saying more. Clearly he wanted to misunderstand her and misconstrue her accident.
“That was meant to be an apology?”
Red hot rage filled her very being at the man’s words, and she opened her mouth to speak.
He did not give her the opportunity to do so, however, as he merely shook his head and left in a huff.
For a few silent minutes, Margery only stood where he had left her.
Finally, she shook her head with a deep sigh. Men and their pride—it was not something she thought that she would ever be able to understand.
Margery lingered for a moment on the street, taking deep breaths to quell the unsettled feeling in her chest. The encounter with the gentleman had left her feeling shaken, but she knew she shouldn’t let it distract her from her commitment to aiding the less fortunate. She had promised to volunteer at the Society for the Relief of the Destitute Sick, and she was determined to keep her word.
Upon arriving at the society, Margery was greeted warmly by a group of volunteers who were diligently preparing bread for the impoverished. Flour dusted the air, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the room, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. Margery eagerly joined the others, rolling up her sleeves and kneading dough alongside them. The task was simple, but the impact it would have on those who received the bread was immeasurable.
As she waited for the loaves to cool a while later, Margery’s mind wandered back to the gentleman she had encountered. She couldn’t help but wonder about his life and the privilege that came with being a member of the upper class. She pondered whether he ever stopped to consider the struggles of those less fortunate than himself. Margery knew that she would likely never understand his perspective, but she hoped that one day he might come to realize the importance of aiding those in need.
She shook her head silently as she continued working.
As much as the man had blamed her for ruining his walk, his awful attitude had ruined hers.
She could only hope that she never had to deal with that particular gentleman again.

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