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The morning light bathed Agnes’s chamber, casting a gentle glow on the aftermath of a night filled with tears.

As she rose from her slumber, her head ached badly from all the tears of the night. However, determination etched across her features. She could not afford to be such a mess all the time, and there was only one thing she could do. She resolved to cloak her inner turmoil in a facade of composure.

In the next second, Peggy walked in with a basin of water, a ritual of morning ablutions that served as a semblance of normalcy.

“May I wash you, Miss Agnes?” she asked, a soft fondness in her eyes.

She did not mention what happened the night before. Agnes didn’t either. Instead, she offered a grateful smile and nodded in acknowledgment.

The rhythmic sounds of water and cloth filled the room, a soothing counterpoint to the emotional storm within her.

Their quiet routine was disrupted by a firm knock on the door, and Agnes’s mother entered with an air of suspicion lingering in her gaze.

Agnes, maintaining the charade, looked up with a smile. “Good morning, Mother.” The upturned corners of her lips concealed the lingering ache in her chest.

Mary, however, was not easily convinced. She studied Agnes for a prolonged moment, as if searching for any cracks in her carefully constructed facade. A question hung in the air, unspoken yet palpable. Agnes, adept at the art of pretense, only waited for Mary’s inquiry.

Finally, it came.

“Where were you all night, Agnes?” Mary asked, her gaze piercing and probing.

“I had to go and see to some business and sever some ties, Mother. Nothing to worry about.” Agnes still smiled. Peggy stilled from brushing her hair.

“I hope those ties have to do with the Duke, girl.”

Agnes simply smiled in response. She wore her gown and then turned to her mother. “Why are you here, Mother?” she asked with a smile.

“Ewan is downstairs. He seeks your company, so go there,” Mary said.

The news struck Agnes like a physical blow, her heart momentarily faltering. Yet, she maintained her act, expressing polite surprise and inquiring about the purpose of Ewan’s visit.

Mary, satisfied with the semblance of normalcy, departed, leaving Agnes alone to grapple with the conflicting currents of her heart.

As the door closed behind Mary, Agnes drew in a breath, the artifice of her smile lingering even as the facade threatened to crack. With dead eyes, she turned to Peggy. “Did I do well?” she asked and with tears in her eyes.

Peggy nodded. “Yes, Miss Agnes, you did very well.”

Agnes smiled softly and moved to wipe Peggy’s tears. “Don’t cry.” Her voice shook, and she quickly took a step back.

* * *

Descending the staircase a while later, Agnes observed Ewan. He was so absorbed in his own reflection that he failed to notice her approach.

A pang of uncertainty gripped her heart. as this the man destined to be her future? The weight of the decision pressed down on her, a heavy burden she wasn’t sure she could bear.

She got to him and cleared her throat. Agnes drew Ewan’s attention, his gaze finally shifting from his reflection to her.

For an instant, a trick of the light or perhaps her own wishful thinking, it felt like Matthew’s eyes were on her. Agnes, caught in a transient illusion, froze as her heart raced in her chest.

The name “Matthew” echoed in her thoughts, tears forming in her eyes before she could wrestle her emotions under control.

It was only Ewan’s alarmed look that snapped her back to the present.

Ewan, glancing at Agnes with a raised brow, asked, “Miss Agnes, are you quite all right? You seem a bit… emotional.”

Agnes scrambled for composure, conjuring an excuse, her voice catching slightly. “Oh, it’s nothing, My Lord. Your appearance is just, um, striking, you see.”

Ewan chuckled, seemingly pleased by the compliment. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for having a keen eye,” he remarked.