Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Late evening note

The night before the wedding, Ruelle found herself busy accommodating the guests who had gathered at the Belmont house. Most were relatives from Mr. and Mrs. Belmont's side, along with a few of their friends. The house bustled with activity, the clinking of glasses and polite laughter filling the air, but with only a maid and a stableman hired to help, Ruelle stepped in as an extra pair of hands, moving quietly through the rooms with a tray of refreshments.

"Ah, finally, the refreshments have arrived!" a woman exclaimed, reaching eagerly for a glass, her voice cutting through the hum of polite laughter. The atmosphere was merry, but a mistimed gesture led to a glass slipping and spilling its contents. "Oh, pardon me! I didn't mean for it to fall," the guest stammered, clearly embarrassed.

"It's alright. I'll clean it up right away," Ruelle reassured, her smile gentle and her hands swift. With practiced ease, she wiped away the mishap, leaving no trace of the incident.

As Ruelle continued her task, a woman across the room attempted to summon her, raising a hand and calling out, "Maid, the bedding—"

The woman was interrupted by a sharp nudge from her companion, who stifled a laugh. "What are you doing? That's not the maid," she whispered loudly enough for Ruelle to hear. "That's the Belmonts' eldest daughter, Ruelle."

The woman's brows furrowed in confusion. "The eldest daughter? Why isn't she the one getting married? Isn't it customary for the eldest to marry first?"

Ruelle, standing just a few feet away, heard every word. The air seemed to thicken around her, but she didn't react. Her father had been clear—no disruptions, no unnecessary attention. The wedding was to proceed smoothly, and Ruelle's presence was meant to be as invisible as her contributions, as this was Caroline's time to be happy.

At that moment, her father entered the room, commanding the attention of the guests. "Harold! I'm so happy for you and Megan! Congratulations!" One guest exclaimed, whisking him away from the exchange.

Taking the opportunity, Ruelle slipped into the next room, trying to shake off the conversation she had overheard. But the whispers followed her, like shadows refusing to leave.

"Well," one woman began, her voice low but sharp, "I heard the girl has been sent off to that place... What's it called? Sexton? It seems odd, doesn't it? To send a daughter away when she should be securing a husband." She tilted her head towards the hallway where Caroline's bright laughter rang out like a bell. "She's even prettier than the younger one. I heard Megan mention to someone how the eldest hasn't yet... blossomed into womanhood."

A collective gasp followed, soft but cutting. "Isn't she of age already? Strange... Maybe there is something wrong with her."

Ruelle stood motionless, and though she wore a smile, if one looked closely, they would notice the cracks of insecurity that she tried to hide. Because even though she didn't say it, the judgement that came from the family fell heavier than the weight of their expectations. It was as if their unspoken criticisms clung to her every action, silently demanding more from her—more effort, more perfection, more proof that she was worth something.

It wasn't just the guests' whispers that stung, but the constant reminders that she didn't measure up. She could feel it in the way her father barely looked at her, in the way her stepmother's praise for Caroline never extended to her.

To make up for everything, Ruelle worked harder. She knew that a place like Sexton, though dangerous, was a stepping stone she desperately needed, a place that could elevate her status and position.

"Miss Ruelle," the maid interrupted, drawing her out of her thoughts. "This came for you."

Ruelle looked down as the maid handed her an envelope. "Who gave it to you?" she asked.

"It seemed like a maid, didn't say much, only that I should give this to you."

Ruelle's fingers tightened around the envelope as she thanked the maid and moved to a corner where a lantern burned brightly. She pulled out the note. It read: Come to the back side of the tower bell.

Her brows furrowed. No name, no signature. A feeling of unease settled in her stomach, but curiosity won out.

"If anyone asks, tell them I went to the tower bell and will return shortly," she told the maid before grabbing her cloak. She pulled the hood over her head and quickly made her way towards the bell tower.

As she approached, the area was deserted. Only the distant murmur of voices from nearby houses reached her ears. She hesitated at the base of the tower, glancing around nervously. Just as she stepped into the shadow of the structure, strong arms wrapped around her from behind.

Her mind scrambled to make sense of the situation. To see me? she asked herself. No, this must be some mistake. He must think she was Caroline because of the hood, she reasoned, and the maid must have mistakenly delivered the letter to her instead of her sister. Her heart pounded as she realised how easily this misunderstanding could spiral.