Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 172: Mira and the Baron

Chapter 172: Mira and the Baron

Late Afternoon.

Hall, Statham Estate.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

****************

In the quaint, candlelit hall of the Statham’ estate, a bittersweet atmosphere hung thick in the air as guests gathered for the wedding of Lady Mira to the Baron.

Mira, adorned in a gown of ivory silk, stood at the altar, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Her heart, heavy with reluctance, she yearned to break free from the bonds of obligation that tied her to this union.

She didn’t want the baron, but the king has rejected her, so she must get married soon enough or she shall become old and die alone, her worth has reduced because she was with the king and suddenly no more.

As Julius Statham, the distinguished Marquis, stood proudly by her side, he nodded in satisfaction that she picked this baron or Critic-Ishelms’.

Georgina’s gaze was a mix of pride and concern.

She could see the turmoil etched on her daughter’s face, a silent plea for understanding and compassion. But perhaps Mira deserved a second hand husband because life was unfair and she was never nice.

Shi’Enz, her sister, the radiant embodiment of grace and charm, stood opposite Mira, her smile masking a tumultuous sea of sadness and fear for her own turn.

Would she be shipped away for a man she didn’t care about like this too someday?

She didn’t want that.

Unconsciously her eyes looked towards the woods, for a glimpse of him, anything but there was nothing like it had been for days now, since the last day she had seen him walking away.

Mira sniffed quietly, she harbored a secret bitterness towards her elder sister, Liza, a bitterness born from the betrayal of her own heart, she expected Liza to at least be in attendance but she assume she must have flung the letter to the waters as she danced to Mira’s sorrow.

It was her sister who had stolen the affections of the king, leaving Mira to wither in the shadow of unrequited love.

But Mira never loved the king, she loved his wealth, the respect that’d come from being the queen, she was going to rule.

Her sniff made Julius uncomfortable but he let it be. She didn’t know better.

Across the room, the Baron, a man of wealth and stature, stood tall and resolute, his eyes fixed on his reluctant bride-to-be.

He was a divorcee seeking solace in the arms of a new bride, oblivious to the turmoil raging within Mira’s heart.

He was a handsome but temperamental man and if he knew she didn’t like him, he wouldn’t want this.

Hama had decieved and almost destroyed his life, he wouldn’t want that again.

As the ceremony began, Mira’s tears flowed freely, a silent protest against the chains of duty that bound her to this loveless union.

And as the vows were exchanged and the guests offered their congratulations, Mira’s mind wandered, thinking of they would ever be a time when love would be pure and untainted by obligation.

How had Lydia felt? She mused before wiping her tears, she was elder to Lydia and should act it, and invitation hadn’t been sent to her but she knew, Lydia would hear.

In that moment, amidst the cheers and applause, Mira longed for the freedom to follow her heart’s desire, to break free from the shackles of expectation and forge her own path.

To become a dame or a nun.

But as she glanced at her family, their eyes brimming with pride and expectation, Mira knew that her fate was sealed.

And so, with a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, she resigned herself to a future of duty and sacrifice, forever haunted by the echoes of a love lost.

She only didn’t know that she never had love.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife"

*

* *

*

Evening.

Citadel.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

*****************

Lydia was in the royal kitchen.

In the grand, classic kitchen of the royal citadel, Lydia Theodore stood at the helm of culinary chaos with determination etched into her features.

Lydia was making dinner for tonight.

She took her hair in an elegant bun, tightening it with a pin.

The fire and pots were set, they was enough water and she has been working for almost an hour now.

Her elegant fingers moved with precision as she produced a symphony of flavors and aromas that danced through the air like a tantalizing melody.

The kitchen, seemed to bend to her will as she commanded the maids with a firm yet graceful hand as it bustled with activity,

The light sheen of sweats trailing down her spine were barely any deterrent from her work.

With each flick of her wrist, Lydia transformed the mundane ingredients into culinary masterpieces fit for royalty.

Her stepmother-in-law’s decree hung heavy in the air, driving Lydia to prove her worthiness through her culinary prowess. She hadn’t been able to do well in knitting but she knew she would ace in this aspect. Yet, she didn’t let her confidence turn into pride or arrogance, making her work more.

Despite the weight of expectation, Lydia approached the task with a quiet confidence, confidence born from years of being overlooked and underestimated by her family, the Statham house.

There she had been reduced to a maid due to the fact that she could work with them all night and her mother wouldn’t ask why, she loved being with the maids and her sisters wanted it to remain so.

In that era, she had learned every and whatever culinary specialty that the cook and head maid could orchestrate and now she couldn’t be any more prouder.

"Kate, please ensure the roast is basted every fifteen minutes. We want it to be perfectly juicy for tonight’s feast." Lydia said suddenly.

The maid, Kate, appeared flabbergasted, she didn’t expect Lydia to know her name but she quickly recovered.

"Of course, milady. I’ll keep a close eye on it." She assured Lydia who smiled and moved to another area of the vast kitchen.

"And Sloane, could you prepare the vegetables?" Lydia asked but Sloane’s eyes were to wide with shock to respond making Lydia think she didn’t understand, so Lydia added. "I want them to be cooked al dente, with just the right amount of crunch." Lydia’s fingers were moving as she talked, she wore a simple gown that allowed her movements easier and free.

Sloane wiped her palm before nodding with a smile. "Yes, milady. I’ll get started right away."

"Be careful Lilah, be careful" Lydia advised, her voice soft instead of scolding as Lilah would expect.

"Thank you Milady" Lilah sniffed, she had been cutting onions and wi

"You could step outside where there is more ventilation, do not cry in the kitchen"

"Right away, Milady" Lilah scurried out through the back door making Lydia nod.

"Excellent. And Emily, could you set the trays? We want everything to be impeccable for our esteemed guests." Lydia.

"Right away, milady. I’ll make sure every detail is attended to." Emily.

Lydia continued with her instructions with an ease and flow of a woman who must have done this before and always enjoyed it.

"Thank you, ladies. Your hard work is greatly appreciated. Together, we will create a dinner that will leave our guests in awe."

She said out loud as she dipped both her palm into cold water, she needed it to cool her heated palm.

As the maids scurried about, fetching ingredients and attending to her every command, Lydia’s mind raced with memories of her beginnings, it wasn’t humble but she had it humble.

Lydia had spent countless hours in the company of the kitchen staff, absorbing their wisdom like a sponge, honing her skills in secret while the rest of the household slept or teased her.

Now, as she deftly seasoned a simmering pot of stew and carefully arranged pastries on silver platters, Lydia felt a sense of pride swell within her.

She smiled before taking a seat to rest her waist and feet.

This feast was not just a meal; it was a testament to her resilience, her determination to prove her detractors wrong. Sandra should know that no one deserved Theodore more than she did, despite this not being the only factor to make her worthy she believed it was a good one.

The Statham estate wasn’t that bad if she thought of kinky the good days.

What could be happening back there now, she mused. She wished she could talk to Liza but the woman was becoming temperamental.

She left her seat to check the dishes and with each dish completed to perfection, Lydia’s confidence grew, her movements becoming more fluid, more assured.

And as the final touches were added and the aroma of the feast filled the kitchen, Lydia knew that she had succeeded.

She would show her stepmother-in-law, and indeed the entire household, that she was not to be underestimated.

Suddenly she wished Lilith was still here but that was masochistic so she shook her head.

The maids bustled to carry the dishes to the grand dining hall, while Lydia allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction.

She had not only proven her worthiness in the kitchen but had also demonstrated her strength and resourcefulness in the face of adversity.

And the she followed the procession of servants out of the kitchen, her head held high, Lydia knew that she had earned her place among the elite of the royal household.

The wife of lord Theodore.