Page 33 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

Sighing, Agnes found no reason to maintain her facade. “The truth is... Theodore and I... We’re not in love. I fear I might have lost my only chance at finding true love.”

Emma nodded, her expression somber. “It seems love has truly forsaken us.”

Frances’s response came swift and sharp, a reprimand wrapped in concern. “What is the matter with you both? Where is the hope you overflowed with when we left the seminary?”

“Thetonhas eroded it,” Emma countered, her shoulders falling in resignation.

Agnes, however, clung to a sliver of optimism. “But you, Emma, still have a chance to find love,” she said, willing her friend to believe in possibilities yet to unfold.

Frances turned her attention to Agnes, her tone softening. “And Gillingham is a charming man. Who is to say you won’t fall in love with him?”

The problem isn’t me falling in love with him,Agnes thought despondently.It’s whether Theodore could ever love me.But voicing such fears seemed pointless, so she merely nodded in response.

Then, brightening the mood, Frances placed a small box on the table, announcing, “Emma and I had this made for you.”

“It’s a wedding gift,” Emma chimed in, her smile gentle.

With trembling fingers, Agnes unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a framed miniature—a beautiful depiction of the three of them seated in a flower field, smiles captured in a moment of blissful joy. Emotion welled up within her, blurring her vision as she stood to embrace her friends.

“Forgive me for being a water pot,” Agnes murmured, sniffling. “I love it. Thank you!”

Frances, taking Agnes’s hand in hers, implored, “You must do your best to find happiness in your marriage, Aggie. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Agnes responded, knowing it would be broken.

As Theodore and his sisters stepped into the drawing room, Agnes rose to greet them, a flutter of anticipation stirring within her. It was the evening before their wedding, an occasion marked by a dinner hosted by Agnes’s family, bringing together not only their immediate circles but also their closest friends for a night of prenuptial celebration.

Theodore approached Agnes first, taking her hand in his with a charm that belied the tension she knew he harbored. With a gentle kiss upon her knuckles, he turned to introduce his sisters, Lady Harriet Augefort and Lady Leslie Augefort, with a warmth that momentarily bridged the distance she had felt growing between them.

“You have the most enchanting blue eyes,” Lady Harriet exclaimed upon her introduction, her admiration forthright and unguarded. “Like pale sapphires!”

“My apologies for my sister’s forthrightness,” Lady Leslie interjected with a grace that suggested she was well accustomed to smoothing over her sister’s bluntness. “It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Young.”

Harriet shot Leslie a mock glare, prompting a light chuckle from Agnes. “Why, you are both utterly endearing,” she assured them, her heart warmed by their spirited dynamic.

Yet, when Agnes’s eyes sought Theodore’s, she found him distant, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. The memory of their uncomfortable encounter with Lord Asmont lingered, casting a shadow over the evening. She couldn’t help but wonder if Theodore harbored resentment toward her for the scandal that had ensnared them both, perhaps even blaming her for the Earl’s disdainful treatment.

As dinner was announced and they gathered around the table, Theodore’s elusive gaze continued to haunt Agnes, lending weight to her fears that he might view her as the architect of his current predicament.

“Right, Agnes?” The inquiry from her mother snapped her back to the present, her attention having drifted amidst the whirlwind of her anxieties.

“I beg your pardon?” Agnes stammered, momentarily disoriented, her fork clattering against her plate.

“She’s off in a world of her own,” Emma’s mother, Lady Lovell, observed with a gentle laugh, inadvertently drawing the room’s attention to Agnes’s distraction.

“At this hour of the evening?” Sir Henry Lovell echoed his wife’s amusement.

“It is merely the bride’s jitters, I assure you. No cause for concern, Your Graces,” Lady Lovell proclaimed with a robustness that invited shared laughter from those gathered around the dinner table.

Despite the convivial atmosphere, Agnes could feel Theodore’s gaze upon her, adding weight to her already fluttering nerves. When she dared to meet his eyes, she found them devoid of the mirth that animated the rest of the company.

She took a nervous sip of water, attempting to mask her discomfort.

“Pay no heed to Mama; she would jest with the very ants upon the wall,” Emma, seated beside Agnes, leaned in to whisper, a conspiratorial warmth in her voice.

“I caught that, dear Emma,” her mother retorted, casting a playfully stern look in her daughter’s direction, igniting another round of chuckles amongst the guests.

Amidst her own unease, Agnes found a sliver of solace in the laughter and banter of her family and friends, a momentary reprieve from the tangled web of emotions that the upcoming nuptials had spun around her.

---