I glanced at Simon, an idea forming in my mind. "You've always been good with your studies. Now's the time to aim for a title."
In the past, he had been trapped in a small town with no opportunity to shine. But now, in London, and with the backing of the Duke of Avon, securing a title would be much easier.
Simon was quick to understand. After a brief pause, he asked, "You mean, to gain power for myself?"
I met his gaze. "Exactly."
The power of the Duke wasn't ours to command, but if Simon earned his own title through merit, that would be his.
"Then we could truly make a home here in London!" His eyes lit up with excitement.
I smiled, encouraging him. "Then you must work hard, Simon."
After he left, I sat at my desk and pulled out a hairpin from my sleeve, my fingers running absently over its surface as an image of my father's kind yet stern face filled my mind.
Father, you always taught us to be honest and upright. But for all your honesty, you died alone in a cold prison.
In this world, it seemed that power was the only thing that truly mattered...
…