Falling for a Lie, My Stepbrother’s Hidden Revenge. novel Chapter 47

"Miss Lancelot... little Sylvia?" Mrs. Wilson emerged from the country house, her weathered face brightening with recognition. "Is it really you?"

"You know me?" Sylvia asked, taken aback.

"Good heavens, look at you." Mrs. Wilson's eyes misted over. "The spitting image of your mother."

Seeing Sylvia's bewilderment, Asher explained softly, "Mrs. Wilson was your mother's cook at the Lancelot estate. Your mother learned all her signature dishes from her."

"Those eyes," Mrs. Wilson's voice wavered with emotion. "Just like Lady Rosalind's. I used to hold you as a baby, you know. Such a precious little thing you were."

At the mention of her mother, Sylvia felt the familiar ache in her chest, tears threatening. "I... I'm so pleased to meet you properly."

They settled in Mrs. Wilson's warm kitchen, where stories of Rosalind's youth flowed freely over tea. Sylvia learned how her mother - a privileged young woman who'd never set foot in a kitchen - had determinedly learned to cook to win her father's heart.

The revelation shifted something in Sylvia's understanding of her parents' love story. She remembered how deeply in love they'd seemed during her childhood, how her father had fallen into depression after her mother's death. The question that had haunted her for years surfaced again: if he'd loved her mother so deeply, why remarry Victoria just two years later?

"Mrs. Wilson," Sylvia ventured carefully, "did you know Victoria Darwin?"

"Lady Rosalind's friend from Cambridge? Oh yes, dear. They were inseparable back then. Victoria was always visiting, though she lived in Surrey so the visits weren't as frequent as they might have liked."

Sylvia remembered liking Victoria as a child - she'd always brought pretty dresses and treats. But everything had changed when Victoria married her father. Though Victoria had been even more attentive as a stepmother than she'd been as an "aunt," Sylvia had never been able to warm to her again.

"She's my stepmother now," Sylvia said quietly.

"Why would you do that?" Sylvia asked, turning to Asher with reddened eyes.

His expression softened with tenderness. "After your mother passed, you stopped eating properly. I couldn't bear to watch that."

"When Lady Rosalind married," Mrs. Wilson added, dabbing at her eyes, "I had to retire due to illness. Mr. Blackwood visited often afterward - just a boy then, but so determined. He even paid for my medical treatment - insisted it was his tuition fee, bless him."

Sylvia's eyes widened as realization struck. "Those meals that appeared during that awful time... that was you?"

"Yes," he said simply.

That single word reverberated through Sylvia's heart, carrying with it years of unspoken care and devotion.