Considering the laboratory work that needed to be done with Uncle, it was hopelessly impractical. It was meant to be worn after my wedding—Daciana had insisted I change for the evening dinner celebration, so it was a dreamy, whimsical thing. Much too pretty for breakfast. Though I agreed it was best to appear as regal as possible while meeting Thomas’s father for the first time. No matter the pain he caused, I wished to make a good impression. If only to make him regret his meddling.
