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would you think that? I can see you are upset and you still think yourself undeserving of your punishment–”
    Clara’s cheeks heated. “I never said that.”
    “–but you did a very naughty thing, my dear. Still, you are only a child. A willful and insubordinate child, perhaps, but just a child all the same. Which is why I have decided to end your punishment early.”
    “You – you have?” Clara said cautiously.
    Lady Irene’s smile grew wider. “I have. We are family now, after all. And family must forgive one another. Do you not agree?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Excellent. One of the maids will be in to help you dress and then you may join us for breakfast in the sunroom. We are having blueberry scones. I had Cook make them special for you. They are your favorite, are they not? I thought so,” Lady Irene said when Clara slowly nodded.
    “Thank you, Lady Stepmother.”
    “My pleasure. Oh, and do enjoy the roses my dear.” Pausing in the doorway, Lady Irene looked back over her shoulder. “They are the last ones you are going to be enjoying for quite some time.”
    Clara’s entire face paled. Still, she made herself wait to jump out of bed and run to the window until she heard the soft pitter pat of her stepmother’s shoes on the stairs. Pressing her nose against the glass she squinted, trying to see all the way across the lawn to the far garden. It was a very long distance, so long that everything was a bit fuzzy around the edges, but the large black scorch mark was impossible to miss.
    With a horrified gasp Clara stumbled back from the window as tears, the first tears she had shed since she’d been locked in her room, poured out of her eyes and down her cheeks.
    Her mother’s roses had been burned to the ground.
     
    A red-haired maid by the name of Poppy came into Clara’s room to help her dress and dry her tears. Poppy had only been at Windmere for a few short months, but during that time she and Clara had become fast friends. Even though she was several years older than Clara, Poppy had a bright, infectious laugh and childlike enthusiasm that endeared her to the baron’s daughter.
    Clara often like to imagine what her life would be like if her father had married Poppy’s mother instead of Lady Irene. Then she and Poppy would be sisters and she would never have to see Henrietta or Gabriella ever again.
    Her stepsisters were waiting for her when she came downstairs. The instant her dainty slippers sank into the thick Axminster carpet they surrounded her on either side and ushered her into the sun room, a smaller room off the front parlor aptly named for its large windows that overlooked the front terrace. Like yesterday and the day before, the sky was clear and blue with nary a cloud to be seen. Flowers bloomed on the terrace, tumbling off the sides in a spill of vibrant color. Usually Clara would have taken a moment to admire their beauty, but this morning she could not bear to look.
    Lady Irene was already seated at the head of the table. She rose to her feet when her daughters entered the room, greeting them with a warm smile that chilled considerably when her gaze centered on Clara.
    “Your eyes look rather red and puffy, my dear. Have you been crying?”
    “Yes,” Clara said shortly as she pulled away from her stepsisters and sat down as far from Lady Irene as she could possibly manage.
    “Whatever for?” Lady Irene purred.
    Gabriella snickered.
    “You burned down my mother’s roses.” Lifting her chin, Clara met her stepmother’s frigid stare without flinching. Anger burned inside of her, a bright hot ball of it that made her reckless with her words. “It was a spiteful, mean, awful thing to do and my father is going to be most displeased with you when he returns home. I hope he throws you right out!” Her small hands curled into fists that bounced loudly off the table, clattering the plates and the silverware. “I hope he throws you out and I never have to see you again!”
    “Is