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“I am still unsure why my father wants me home so urgently. I fear that something might truly be wrong with him.”

As she spoke, Juliet wished that he hadn’t reappeared so suddenly and disrupted her life once again.

Mary embraced Juliet. “Whatever it is, I wish you good luck. Safe travels, Juliet. And remember, you have friends here. We will be thinking about you and praying for you.”

Juliet felt slightly guilty for complaining about her departure. Anyone else would have been thrilled to leave that rotting place, haunted with countless memories and miseries that she would never forget in her lifetime, try as she might.

Not her. This was the only home she knew.

“Write to me, and I’ll do the same,” she promised, patting Mary’s back.

With one last look at the nunnery, she hurried towards the carriage. Her mind was still on Sonya’s pleading eyes as she moved.

The cold, damp air only deepened her melancholic mood.

The carriage door opened.

As she fumbled with her gloves, a tall, pretty woman approached. The lady grasped Juliet’s bag from her and placed it in the back. “Good evening, Juliet. My name is Leila, and I will escort you back to London. We shall depart right away.”

Juliet nodded. “Thank you, Leila. I just hope I am doing the right thing. How long is it to London again?”

Leila gave her a reassuring smile. “You will be home in a week.”

Home?Did such a place exist for Juliet in a world she had not set foot in for over a decade? By embarking on this journey, would she finally gain some semblance of peace and clarity in the fractured relationship she had with her father, or would this just be another disappointing, cruel thing she had come to know in her life?

As the carriage began to roll away from the nunnery, Juliet forced herself to keep her eyes forward and mumbled quietly to herself to remain strong.

“I suppose there is only one way to find out.”

CHAPTER 2

“My goodness, is that her?” Juliet heard the woman who stood beside her father exclaim as she stepped out of the carriage.

The woman glanced at Juliet and Leila with interest.

“She looks well, I must say,” Juliet’s father, Algernon Wycliffe, Earl of Campton said, stroking his beard.

“This should be easy,” she heard him mutter under his breath.

What should be easy?she thought.

Her legs ached from travelling all week, and her muscles were sore from the long journey. She took a deep breath and stopped to take in the home she had left at a tender age.

Nothing much had changed. The glamorous and exquisite building was as she’d remembered it.

Her father had aged a little, and his beard was grey and shorter than before. She sighed as the rich aroma of polished wood and fresh flowers filled her nostrils. It was so different from the Abbey’s air.

As she approached the entrance to her father’s townhouse, Juliet slowed down her pace. Leila fell in step beside her.

“It’s Juliet, all right,” the woman beside him announced sharply, making no effort to mask her disapproval.

Lord Campton stepped forward with his arms wide open. “Ah, is that you, Juliet?” He pulled Leila into a warm embrace. “I am glad that you have returned home.”

Juliet frowned.

The woman choked back a chuckle, clearing her throat to hide the mirth in her eyes.

A bewildered Leila tried to pull out of Lord Campton’s embrace. “My Lord, there’s been a mistake.”