Deviating from the original plot

Chapter forty-one

A few months later~

"Father, what is this?" Victoria asked curiously as she sat in his study, holding up a framed picture. "Is this you... as a baby?"

Her father glanced up from his desk, then smiled warmly. "Ah, yes. My mother insisted on having a portrait made of me when I was only a few months old. I thought you might like to see it."

Victoria couldn't help but chuckle. The infant in the painting sat rather stiffly, as though pouting at the painter. His bonnet was crooked, and the little shirt hung lopsidedly off his shoulder.

"She used to tell me it took ages to get me to stay still," her father added with a laugh, moving from behind his desk to sit beside her. "That's why I look so... dishevelled."

"Aww... it's adorable," Victoria teased. Then her eyes narrowed on a detail she hadn't noticed before. She pointed to a small dark patch on the baby's exposed arm. "Look, the paint smudged here. It's like the portrait got stained."

Her father chuckled. "Not a stain. That's a birthmark. See? It's how I know you're my daughter; you were born with it too."

Victoria blinked, her hand instinctively brushing over her own arm. She had always known of the dark mark there but never thought much of it. Yet now, a strange warmth rippled through her chest.

"Why bring this up now?" she asked, staring down at the old portrait.

"The servants were doing a deep cleaning, and I happened to come across it," her father replied.

"Deep cleaning? For what reason?" Victoria frowned.

"In preparation for your birthday, of course."

"My birthday?" she echoed, confused. "But... it's just my birthday. They've never gone to such lengths before."

"Well, it's a birthday banquet, so of course they'll go all out," her father said matter-of-factly. Victoria could only sigh in defeat.

She recalled how, just a month ago, her father had persuaded her to host the banquet. Ever since, it had been nothing but endless planning and organising. Apparently, arranging her own celebration was supposed to show society that she was competent, that naming her as heir hadn't been some careless mistake.

In the span of a few weeks, she had endured countless cake tastings and spoken to more people than she had in all the time since her rebirth. The Chevalier family—who had gained unusual publicity after Victoria famously used their champagne bottle as a weapon during Duke Merrow's gala offered her one of their prized wine bottles. With a laugh, they went so far as to name her their "ambassador", declaring that they would debut a new wine at her banquet in her honour.

"I still think a nice family affair would have been better," Victoria said.

"Nonsense," her father replied firmly. "The heir to the Valenford estate deserves a celebration worthy of her name."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Anne stepped into the study and curtsied. "My lady, your friends have arrived to accompany you to your dress fitting."

Victoria blinked. "Oh, Lady Celeste and Lady Evelyn are here already?" She rose reluctantly from her chair.

"Go on and enjoy yourself," her father said warmly.

Victoria forced a smile, smoothed down her skirts, and followed Anne out to the drawing room.

"There she is!" Evelyn exclaimed the moment Victoria appeared. "We were starting to think you'd try to escape the fitting."

"I can't even though I want to," Victoria said dryly, though her lips quirked into a small smile.

Celeste chuckled softly. "Well, come along then. We have so much to do today."