The Common Way to Ruin a Life - Chapter 1 - Prologue

Prologue.

The narrow, winding alley where the poor gathered — including laborers from the lowest ranks of society — was so dim it seemed as though dusk had already fallen, despite the sun still hanging in the sky.

A large four-wheeled carriage had been forced to wait outside; the passage was far too cramped to admit it. Perhaps because of yesterday’s rain, stagnant pools of foul, refuse-tainted water had collected in the hollows of the uneven stone road.

The stench of the sewers was one Dominic Whitmore could never quite grow accustomed to.

Rustle. An indistinct sound drifted out from the shadows. Rat, insect, or person — it was impossible to tell in a place as squalid as this.

In an alley he would never once have set foot in otherwise, Dominic Whitmore came face to face with a woman clutching a stained apron in both hands. A gaunt-faced expectant mother, her swollen belly impossible to miss.

“Your Grace, if there’s something you wish to say… could you please make it quick?”

Irene Vanderberg lowered her voice to a whisper as she cast anxious glances around her. No one could be allowed to discover he had come here. She was painfully careful.

That infuriated him.

He was the sort of man welcomed wherever he went. It was only in front of this woman alone that he felt like something shameful that had to be hidden. All because she refused to bend to his will.

“Is this how you wanted to live when you left the capital?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking if you left the capital because you wanted to end up living like this. In a place like this. Looking like that.”

His voice fell low, laced with anger he could no longer conceal. He had long since mastered the art of swallowing his emotions. And yet every time he stood before this woman, they burst through as though a dam had given way.

Her hands were blackened beneath ther he fingernails. Her worn clothes still bore stubborn stains that no amount of washing could remove. Only then did she seem to become aware of her own appearance, and a flicker of embarrassment surfaced in her gentle brown eyes.

He had seen that expression countless times before. Her cheeks flushing as she fumbled for what to say. The memory remained so vivid — how he had deliberately teased her in bed, just to coax that look onto her face.

“Who would choose to live a hard life? It just… happened. Circumstances led me here, that’s all.”

After glancing around the deserted alley, she forced out those breezy words. The composure she insisted on wearing, despite the misery of her circumstances, was almost painful to look at.

Then why marry a man you barely knew? There were countless ways to ruin your life. Was this really how foolish you were?

“I wish I could at least offer Your Grace a cup of tea, but as you can see, my circumstances don’t exactly allow for it. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Irene looked back at the ramshackle building, one that seemed on the verge of collapsing, and offered an awkward smile. A forlorn curve touched her lips, standing out all the more against a face still heavy with exhaustion.

The stench of the open sewers never grew any easier to bear. Even now, it turned his stomach.

Damn it. Every last bit of this squalor made him feel like he was going out of his mind. After studying the deepening scowl on his face, the woman quietly let her smile fade before speaking.

“Um… was that all you wanted to say?”

“What? Too ashamed of the life you’re living to hear any more?”

“It’s not that… It’s just that my husband… will be home from work soon. I think it would put both of you in an awkward position…”

She answered with disarming calm, absently fidgeting with her small hands. A surge of heat rose straight to Dominic’s throat.

One hand rested protectively atop the other over her conspicuously swollen belly as Irene looked at him with quiet unease.

“…Your Grace?”

Not even the simplest ring adorned her grimy fingers.

She couldn’t even afford a wedding band, and yet she’d gone and gotten married? What a joke.

What kind of woman ended up in a gutter like this? And what exactly had he hoped to accomplish by coming all the way here? What could he possibly say to a woman carrying another man’s child…?

His stomach churned. If he didn’t spit this bitterness out, he thought he might choke on it.

“So that’s how it is? Then does your husband know what you were like before you got married?”

Dominic took another step toward her and lowered his head. Her slender shoulders flinched, curling in on themselves. With a gentle touch, he tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear and murmured.

“Does your wonderful husband know how shamelessly you cried in my bed?”

That was the moment. Irene shoved hard against his chest, putting all her strength into it, then glared up at him.

“Watch your words, Your Grace. Saying things like that won’t do you any favors either.”

The stern warning came from someone so much smaller than him.

“I’ll take that to mean you’ve said everything you came to say. Please go home. This neighborhood isn’t safe, and it certainly isn’t sanitary. It isn’t a place someone like Your Grace should be. Don’t come here again.”

You’re all talk. Even now, in circumstances like these, you always knew exactly what to say.

“And this is a place fit for a pregnant woman?”

Irene drew in a sharp breath, caught off guard, and lowered her eyes. A tangle of emotions flickered across her face before settling into quiet resolve.

“I’ve… grown used to it, so I’m fine. Please go back. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. And… I hope we never see each other again.”

She spoke with such unwavering conviction that it was impossible to tell which of them was truly the more pitiful. After giving him a deep, formal bow, she turned away without the slightest hesitation.

The crooked wooden door, so warped it barely hung straight on its hinges, slammed shut in front of him with a heavy thud.