Faith
The high-society media coach Nicholas had hired stared at me through her designer glasses as if I were a puzzle missing half its pieces.
"No, no, Miss Porter," Madame Laurent tutted, tapping her gold pen against a leather notebook. "When asked about the engagement ring, you do not say it is 'very shiny and heavy.' You say it is a timeless heirloom that reflects the quiet elegance of your union."
I sat rigidly on the velvet armchair in the morning room, feeling like an imposter wrapped in five thousand dollars worth of cream-colored silk. Over the last forty-eight hours, Sutton Manor had turned into a finishing school. Stylists had fitted me for custom gowns that carefully accommodated my white arm sling, tailors had measured my posture, and etiquette experts had spent hours teachi
