Kapitel 13: Lessons in Etiquette

Robin sits on the edge of her bed, her fingers anxiously pinching and plucking at her thumb.

Her mind is a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions as she contemplates the path of revenge she has set out against her ex-husband, Malik.

"I should just forget this whole thing and disappear," she mutters to herself, her brow furrowed. "Become a hermit, live out my days in isolation. That would be much easier than going through with this sketchy plan for revenge." She huffs shakily.

Pausing, Robin sighs heavily, pushing her hands into her hair and tugging.

But the other part doesn't even want to consider that idea. Many of her burns with a primal need for retribution, a thirst for Malik's blood that refuses to be quelled.

"Why can't I just let it go?" Robin groans, burying her face in her hands.

The internal battle rages on, her conscience at war with her baser instincts.

"I'm driving myself crazy with this!"

She and Ramsey had already discussed it yesterday night, the man outlining his plan to her with a quiet confidence that she couldn't help but envy.

She knew that she was making a deal with a man whose motives were mysterious, but the burning desire for justice and retribution had outweighed her trepidation.

But in the dawn of light, everything felt completely different.

Sometimes, the allure of a quiet, solitary existence is almost overwhelming, the promise of peace nearly suffocating her.

But then the memories resurface – Malik's cruel betrayal, the humiliation she endured, the shattered dreams of a future she wanted for her and her baby.

In those moments, the fury within her threatens to consume her, and the only path that seems clear is one paved with vengeance.

A sudden knock at the door interrupts her train of thought. Lifting her head, the woman quickly smooths a hand over her messy hair and calls, "Come in."

The door swings open, and Ramsey steps into the room, a small, nervous smile on his lips. "Robin," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of hesitation, "I have something to show you."

Robin's brow furrows with curiosity, and she quickly rises from the bed, grateful for the distraction. "What is it, Ramsey?" she asks, her tone laced with cautious optimism.

Ramsey gestures for Robin to follow him, and she obediently trails behind him as he leads her down the hallway and into a spacious office.

There, seated in a plush armchair, is an older man, his weathered face etched with a serene expression.

"Robin, this is Mr. Sinclair," Ramsey says, motioning toward the older gentleman. "He's going to be your etiquette teacher."

Robin's eyes widen with surprise, and she glances back and forth between Ramsey and Mr. Sinclair, her mind racing to process this unexpected revelation. "My etiquette teacher?" she echoes, her voice laced with bewilderment. "I... I don't understand. Why do I need an etiquette teacher?"

Mr. Sinclair clears his throat, his gaze meeting Robin's with a warm, grandfatherly smile. "My dear, to achieve your goals, you must present yourself with the utmost grace and refinement," he says, his voice rich and calm. "As a woman of your stature and ambition, it is crucial that you master the art of social etiquette and protocol."

Robin's brow furrows as she considers his words, a flicker of uncertainty passing across her features. "But I thought my goal was to..." She pauses, glancing at Ramsey, who quickly interjects.

"Robin, we've discussed this," Ramsey says, his tone gentle yet firm. "To enact your plan, you'll need to navigate the upper echelons of society with the poise and elegance of a true lady. Mr. Sinclair is here to prepare you for that challenge fully."

Robin's lips part as if she's about to protest, but then she closes them, her gaze shifting to the floor as she contemplates Ramsey's words.

After a moment of silence, she nods slowly, her shoulders squaring.

"Alright," she says, lifting her chin and trying to meet Mr. Sinclair's gaze with purpose. "When do we begin?"

Mr. Sinclair's smile widens, and he gestures to the chair opposite him. "Shall we start now, my dear?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "There is much for us to discuss."

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

Finally, Face to face with her new teacher, Robin feels….. very uncomfortable. She fidgets nervously, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt as the elderly gentleman surveys her with a critical eye.

"Posture, my dear," Mr. Sinclair chides gently, "You must remember to keep your shoulders back and your chin up. Proper posture is the foundation of refined behaviour."

Robin nods stiffly, straightening her spine and lifting her head, but the action feels unnatural and forced.

She can't seem to shake the habitual slouch and humility that has become second nature to her.

As the lesson progresses, Robin's discomfort only grows.

The teacher guides her through a series of speech exercises, from simple greetings to the art of polite conversation, but Robin stumbles and fumbles her way through each one.

She winces at the sound of her voice, unused to speaking with the confident, measured tones the teacher is trying to instil in her.

"No, no, my dear," Mr. Sinclair sighs, shaking his head. "You must remember to keep your responses concise and your tone even. Rambling and nervous chatter will only draw unwanted attention."

Robin nods again, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm...I'm sorry, Sir. I'll try to do better."

The words feel foreign on her tongue, the automatic apology a deep-seated reflex from her time under Malik's thumb.

She cringes inwardly, hating how she still cowers and defers, like a trained dog awaiting its master's commands.

He senses her discomfort and offers a sympathetic smile. "My dear, I understand this is all new and challenging for you. But it would be best if pushed through the discomfort. Confidence is essential if you wish to infiltrate the world of the powerful."

Robin nods again, her hands trembling slightly. "I know, I know. I just...I'm finding it so difficult to..." her voice trails off, the words catching in her throat.

The man's brow furrows with concern. "Perhaps we should take a break. This is taking a toll on you."

"No!" Robin blurts out, her eyes widening. "I...I mean, I don't want to stop. I have to keep going. I have to do this."

The gentleman regards her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "Very well. But you must be kinder to yourself, my dear. Rome was not built in a day, as they say."

With a deep breath, Robin nods and steels herself, determined to overcome the discomfort and master these lessons.