Agnes sighed.
“Do not pretend that Greta did not speak with you earlier this evening,” she said, laughing.
Cecily feigned innocence and shrugged. Then, she reached for her sister’s hands and grinned.
“Even so, I want to hear it from you,” she said.
Agnes exhaled heavily again.
“It was lovely,” she admitted. “But I feel so overwhelmed by having danced so many times. I could never have imagined that a debut ball could be so fatiguing.”
Cecily nodded eagerly and squeezed her sister’s hands.
“Oh, but that is precisely what you want,” she said. “Trust me. That means you have had an incredibly successful debut and that you will have suitors calling on you in no time.”
Agnes gave her sister the sigh she had come to recognize whenever speaking about Agnes’s future.
“Perhaps, I should have waited a little longer before making my debut,” she said doubtfully.
Cecily shook her head.
“Do not be silly,” she said. “Waiting too long would have been a mistake. You must make the best of your youth. And, of the season, as well. It only comes round once a year.”
At this, Agnes giggled.
“Thank Heavens,” she said. “I believe I would die of exhaustion if it happened all year long.”
The two women laughed.
Chapter Two
Val Archer reread the letter his mother sent to him for the third time. It was not that he did not understand the words.
He just kept hoping they would magically change; that she was just writing to check in with him. But the words were still the same, no matter how many times he shook his head:
Dearest Val,
How are you, darling? I feel as if it is ages between your letters. I imagine that is because of the distance between London and the Far East. Still, it seems as though you have been gone forever. As your mother, it drives me mad to not have you close by.
To that end, I need you to return to Archington Manor. It is not entirely for selfish reasons, though I must admit that is a small part of it. I have an important matter to discuss with you, and I wish to do so as soon as possible.
I understand why you fled London, darling. But you are the Duke of Archington. You cannot hide forever. Nor should you. I am proud of you, my son, and so should you be. Please, come at your earliest convenience.
All my love,
Mother
He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he stared out the window of the conservative cottage he had purchased for his stay. He had hired a handful of employees as servants, which he would have to dismiss if he were to leave. His valet, Frank, however, would return with him. If that was, he decided to return.
Idly, he began stroking the left side of his face, unconsciously wincing as his fingertips caressed the scar tissue. And just as unintentionally, his mind drifted back to the reason why he left London four years prior. He vividly remembered the reason he had the scars he was now stroking, as though with a strange fondness, rather than a condemning hatred. And the ruins of his skin had cost him dearly. He would never forget that, either.
He had once been engaged to Lady Jocelyn. She was as sweet and clever as she was beautiful, and he had been madly in love with her. But a couple of weeks before they were to be wed, he was in a terrible carriage accident. He had been unconscious for a couple of days, and Lady Jocelyn was not there when he had awoken. The next, and last, he heard from her, she broke off their engagement.
With a bitter sneer, Val rose from the chair. His waking memories of the accident were vaguer than the memory of Jocelyn’s rejection. His accident memories tormented him mainly in the form of nightmares. But each time he touched his scars, he remembered how his face slid along the splintering parts of the carriage door, just before everything went black.
How could she ask me to return?He thought, forcing his hand away from his face.Why would she want the ton to see her with such a hideous monster?
“Your Grace?” Frank asked from the door behind him. “Is something wrong?”
