Victoria
It's been a year since I lost my dear husband, and though the grief still clings to me like a heavy fog, life insists on moving forward. I navigate these days with a practiced grace, but inside, my heart is often somewhere far from the polished halls and manicured gardens of The Harrington Estate. I find myself daydreaming more often than I care to admit, imagining a life that feels so distant from the one I've known—a life filled with adventure, rugged landscapes, and a man who doesn't see me as Lady Harrington, but as Victoria, a woman with her own desires and dreams.
Men approach me constantly, of course. They always have, but their attentions feel different now, more persistent, as if my status as a widow has suddenly made me more desirable. I see the way they look at me, some with sympathy, others with something far less noble. I've learned to smile politely, to deflect their advances with a light laugh or a subtle change of subject. But it's exhausting. I wish they could see beyond my title and my face, to understand that I'm still mourning, still trying to find my footing in this world without Henry.
But there's one person who makes it all a bit easier—my niece, Samantha. Oh, how I adore her. She's the daughter I never had, and when I look at her, I feel both pride and a bittersweet ache. I've always wanted a daughter, but it wasn't meant to be. I love my two idiot sons, but they were well…
Don't think about that, Victoria. It will only cause you pain.
I sigh inwardly while maintaining my expression. Sometimes I wonder if my life of privilege has cost me more than I realized.
I look at my niece. It makes me smile. She is beautiful, so full of life. Samantha has so much in front of her, so many choices that I never had. I want her to find true happiness, the kind that isn't tied to status or wealth, but to love, affection, and fulfillment.
Though I am not sure that is possible for people in our position.
Yet, as much as I want to support her, I can't help but feel the weight of my own desires. I've always harbored a secret fantasy—a wild one, where I'm not Lady Victoria Harrington, but just Victoria, or even Vicky, swept off my feet by a man who is strong, a bit rough around the edges, but wild with passion and ambition. But not ambition for money or power, but for love and freedom. I imagine us in the American West, far from the prying eyes and expectations of society. It's silly, I know. I'm far too, prim, too proper, too English for such things, but the thought lingers all the same.
Today, I'll face another day of charitable events, pointless conversations, and fending off more suitors who can't seem to take a hint. I'll smile, I'll be gracious, but I'll also wonder—what if? What if there's more out there for me than this carefully curated life?
For now, all I can do is keep moving forward, even if it's with one foot in reality and the other in my dreams. That thought would be poetic if it wasn't a bit depressing.
The night was winding down, and I could feel the energy of the party beginning to wane. The guests, once lively and full of conversation, were now more subdued, sipping on their drinks and exchanging quieter words as the hour grew late. I stood beside Samantha by the large windows that overlooked the city, my gaze drawn to the dark clouds gathering ominously on the horizon. I had noticed the storm brewing earlier, but now it seemed to be closing in with a sense of urgency that I couldn't ignore.
The night had taken on an ominous tone as we left the party, the storm brewing on the horizon now fully upon us. The limo's engine hummed softly as we wound our way through the mountains, the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the torrential downpour. I sat beside Samantha, trying to maintain my usual calm demeanor, but the ferocity of the storm outside was impossible to ignore.
The rain pounded against the windows, and the wind howled through the trees, making them bend dangerously close to the road. I could feel the tension in the air, a sense of impending danger that I couldn't quite shake. Samantha sat quietly beside me, her eyes reflecting the unease that had been growing within her all evening.
"We'll be home soon," I said, more to reassure myself than her. But even as I spoke the words, the limo lurched suddenly, the tires slipping on the slick road. My breath caught in my throat as the vehicle began to skid, the driver fighting to regain control.
"Hold on!" I shouted, instinctively reaching for Samantha as the car spun out of control. The world outside became a blur of darkness and rain, and I felt the back end of the limo slide out from under us. The driver did his best to steady the vehicle, but the storm was relentless, and we were at its mercy.
The limo slammed into something solid with a sickening crunch, and I was thrown against the side of the vehicle as it tipped heavily to one side. The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs; I felt something wet wash over me, and then everything went dark.
When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the cold. Rain and river water were pouring in through the shattered windows, soaking me to the bone. I was disoriented, my head throbbing with pain, and it took me a moment to realize that we were no longer moving. The limo was lying almost on its side, half-submerged in the creek that paralleled the road.
I tried to move, but my body protested, waves of dizziness washing over me. My vision was blurred, but I could make out the shape of Samantha beside me. She was slumped over, her body limp and motionless. Panic surged through me, but before I could reach for her, I saw movement outside the broken window.
Through the rain and the darkness, a figure appeared—a man, tall and strong, his clothes drenched and clinging to his frame.
He looked familiar.
He moved with purpose, his expression focused and intense as he climbed into the limo.
I watched in wonder as the man kicked the door nearly off its hinges.
He's strong. So strong.
He checked my driver, James. Relief flooded his face. He went to Samantha, whose appearance was less than ladylike. The outfit that Samantha was wearing was somewhat sheer, and with the rain and water, left little to the imagination.
Did he just blush?
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him carefully lift Samantha out of the wreckage. Up close, his determination was evident in the way he cradled her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
Who was he? And where had he come from?
My mind was a jumble of confusion and fear, but one thing was clear: we were in a bad situation, and this man—whoever he was—was trying to help. I tried to call out to him, to ask him what was happening, but the words wouldn't come. My voice felt trapped in my throat, overwhelmed by the shock of it all.
As I watched him carry Samantha away, I realized how serious our predicament was. The storm was raging, the water rising rapidly around the limo, and I was still trapped inside. The man returned, his expression resolute as he approached me. I saw the urgency in his eyes, the silent promise that he wouldn't leave me behind.
He climbed onto the side of the vehicle, his movements careful and deliberate despite the storm's ferocity. I felt a rush of relief as he reached for me, his strong hands gripping me firmly. As he pulled me out of the limo, the cold wind whipped around us, nearly knocking him off balance. I tried to walk on my own but found it difficult. He picked me up light as a feather and carried me to a massive truck.
I didn't know who he was or why he was here, but at that moment, he was my lifeline. The storm was relentless, the rain pounding down on us with unyielding force, but his determination never wavered. I barely registered the chaos around us—my thoughts were consumed with the realization that we were alive, that we had a chance, thanks to this stranger.
When we reached the truck, he opened the door and helped me inside. The warmth of the interior was a stark contrast to the freezing rain, and I collapsed onto the seat, my body trembling from the cold and the shock. The man wasted no time, quickly closing the door to shield us from the storm. I noticed Samantha lying on the back seat, her head on a pillow as the young girl he had left her with tended to her, whispering encouragement in a soft, but intense tone.
The man looked back at me, his eyes meeting mine with a reassuring steadiness that helped to calm the storm within me. "You're safe now," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "We're going to get you both through this."
He looked at another girl. "Maya, help her."
I closed my eyes, feeling warm and happy to be alive.
***
Samantha
I began to wake and felt the need to vomit. Luckily, I didn't, but that feeling was as intense as any I've ever had. I struggled to get my disorientation under control. My mind felt muddled, as if I were swimming through a thick fog, struggling to find my way back to clarity. The last thing I remembered was the rain—so much rain—and the terrifying sound of tires skidding out of control.
Which I am pretty sure I am made up in my mind because skidding in the rain seems unlikely.
Man, my head hurt.
It least it wasn't loud. There was only the soft hum of an engine, a blanket wrapped snugly around me, and the faint murmur of voices.
I blinked, trying to focus on my surroundings. The world outside the car was still dark, the windows fogged up from the storm that had yet to subside. I felt the truck rocking slightly as it navigated the winding mountain roads, the rain still pelting against the windows. The sensation of motion made the nausea surge, but I pushed it down, trying to get my bearings.
As I shifted slightly, the blanket slipped off my shoulders, and that's when I noticed her—my Aunt Victoria—sitting in the front passenger seat. Her back was straight, her posture as composed as ever. She too held the tension in her shoulders as she looked out at the road ahead. Her hair, usually perfectly styled, was wet and tousled, and there was an intensity in her eyes that I wasn't used to seeing.
I was about to speak, to ask what had happened, but before I could, I heard the soft voices of two girls. They were sitting on the floor in front of me, huddled close together, and speaking in hushed tones. Their words were barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the truck, I could hear every word.
"I think she's prettier," one of the girls said, her tone full of certainty.
"But Lady Victoria is more sophisticated," the other girl argued back, just as convinced.
"No way," the first girl countered. " Its Samantha Harrington. Look at her. She looks like freaking princess. Even after everything that happened."
I listened, my mind still foggy, but their conversation made me smile slightly. They were talking about me and Victoria, comparing us as if we were some kind of fairytale characters. Their innocent debate was oddly comforting.
The truck hit a particularly rough patch of road, jolting me slightly and making the girls fall silent for a moment. The rain outside was relentless, hammering down on the roof of the truck and making it difficult to see anything beyond the windows. We were still on the move, navigating the treacherous mountain roads that led to Victoria's estate in the Smoky Mountains.
I cleared my throat softly, drawing their attention. "Are you two talking about me?" I asked, my voice still a bit weak but teasing nonetheless.
The girls looked up, startled to see that I was awake. Their eyes were wide, and for a moment, they seemed unsure of how to respond. Then, almost in unison, they both broke into shy smiles.
"We didn't mean to wake you," one of them said, her voice small.
"It's okay," I assured them, offering a small smile of my own. "It's nice to know someone thinks I look like a princess."
The other girl giggled softly, her earlier shyness starting to fade. "You do, though. Even with everything that happened."
I let their words wash over me, not entirely sure what to make of them. I remembered the storm, the crash, and the fear that had gripped me, but everything after that was a blur. "What… what happened?" I finally asked, turning my attention to Victoria.
Victoria turned slightly in her seat to face me, her expression softening when she saw that I was awake. "We had an accident," she explained, her voice calm despite the situation. "The storm was worse than we expected. But we were lucky—Ethan found us and got us out before things could get any worse."
"Ethan?" The name was unfamiliar to me, and I struggled to place it in the context of everything that had happened.
"He's the man driving," Victoria clarified. "He pulled us out of the limo and brought us here. We're on our way to the Chateau. We'll be safe there."
"I still think it makes more sense to try to get you to a hospital," Ethan said. His voice was nice—deep but temperate. It was hard to describe, but pleasant.
"If we weren't still dealing with the storm, I would agree with you. But none of us seems to be in immediate danger, and I don't want to risk getting into another accident."
Victoria leaned around the seat and yelled. "James, dear, how are you doing back there, love?"
"Alive and kicking for the moment. Thanks, Ethan. I would offer you my firstborn, but he's a bit of a brat."
Ethan laughed. So did his girls.
I was just trying to absorb the information. "And who are these two lovely ladies?" I asked, glancing at the two girls who couldn't be more than thirteen.
"They're Ethan's daughters," Victoria said, her tone softening further. "Lily and Maya. They've been helping take care of you since we got in the truck."
The girls beamed up at me, clearly pleased to have been acknowledged. "We're glad you're okay," Maya said earnestly. She was clearly the older of the two. Yes. Probably right around thirteen.
"Yeah, we were worried when you didn't wake up," Lily added, her voice filled with genuine concern. Lily was a bit younger. eleven maybe?
I felt a warmth spread through me, despite the lingering fear and confusion. These girls, who I had never met before tonight, had been worried about me, had cared for me. It was a strange, comforting feeling in the midst of everything.
"Thank you," I said softly, meaning it more than they probably realized. "I'm glad you're here too."
The truck hit a bump, and we all jolted slightly. The roads were still treacherous, the storm showing no signs of letting up. I could see the strain on Victoria's face as she glanced out the window, clearly anxious to reach the safety of her estate.
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. "How much further?" I asked, not sure if I was ready to hear the answer.
"Not far now," Victoria replied, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "We'll be there soon."
I settled back against the seat, feeling a strange mix of relief and apprehension wash over me. The events of the night had unfolded so quickly, like a nightmare I couldn't quite shake off. But here I was, surrounded by strangers who had become my lifeline in the midst of chaos.
The truck continued its journey through the storm-lashed mountain roads at a turtle's pace. Secretly, I stole a glance at Ethan, catching only his side profile because of the angle. I noted the set of his jaw, the tight grip on the steering wheel. What kind of man stops and helps three strangers? Did he know who I was? Or who Victoria was?
I guess we will find out.