Delia walked along the soft, white sands of Baston Island, a place she had only ever read about in books both in her past life and now. This was the first time she had ever left the familiar shores of Albion, and the first time in her life she had ever felt the strange, delightful sensation of warm sand between her bare toes. A gentle breeze from the turquoise shore enveloped her, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and the sound of distant, crying gulls. It was a world away from the stuffy drawing rooms and dark secrets of her home. George never took her anywhere during their honeymoon instead he would leave her at home at the mercy of his mother and go to gamble.
"Good thing I still have some of my own coins to spend," she thought to herself, a small, genuine smile on her face. The money she had earned from selling her dye to Lady Isla felt like a key to a freedom she had never known. "This should surely cleanse my mind and calm my soul."
