Page 34 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

Agnes acknowledged his compliment with a gracious nod, her thoughts flickering briefly to a different setting, one where genuine admiration was accompanied by a spark of connection. She pushed the fanciful notion aside and focused on the forced conversation at hand.

As they begun to sip their tea, Ewan shifted the conversation with surprising agility. “Miss Agnes,” he began. “I’ve heard that you have a particular fondness for literature. Any favorite books or authors that capture your imagination?”

Agnes, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected turn in the conversation, managed a subtle smile. “Indeed, I do enjoy literature.A Ladyhave a cherished place on my bookshelf. Their keen insights into human nature never fail to intrigue me.”

To her surprise, Ewan’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. “Ah,A Lady! Fine choice, Miss Agnes. I must admit, I find the complexities of Mr. Darcy so very intriguing. Do you find their characters reflect the nuances of real-life relationships?”

The question caught Agnes off guard, and for a moment, she saw a glimmer of something beyond the rehearsed lines.

“Well,” she began, her tone lightening. “There’s a certain authenticity in their portrayals. The dance of pride and prejudice, the trials of love—these themes resonate with the human experience.”

Ewan nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I find myself drawn to the characters who defy societal expectations, who dare to pursue love in its truest form. It’s a rarity in our world, don’t you think?”

Agnes, intrigued by his unexpected depth, couldn’t help but engage further. “Indeed, societal expectations often hinder the pursuit of genuine connection. It’s refreshing to encounter someone who appreciates the complexities of such relationships.”

The conversation flowed, surprising Agnes with Ewan’s ability to delve into topics beyond the superficial. They discussed literature, philosophy, and even shared a few laughs over amusing anecdotes. Agnes found herself warming up to his company, discovering facets of his personality that extended beyond the polished veneer she had initially perceived.

However, the pleasant exchange took an expected turn as Ewan gradually drifted back to his self-praising monologues. Agnes, her initial interest waning, politely tuned him out, her attention shifting to the window that offered a view inside the house.

Through the pane, Agnes observed her mother engaged in whispered conversations with servants. A twinge of concern crept into her thoughts.

Mary’s recent behavior had become increasingly peculiar—her meticulous scrutiny of incoming letters, the guarded discussions with household staff. Agnes couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

As the Earl talked, Agnes’s mind churned with unease. Her gaze lingered on her mother’s secretive exchange, and a flicker of realization crossed her features. It wasn’t just about orchestrating Agnes’s interactions with potential suitors. There was an air of mystery surrounding Mary’s actions that hinted at something deeper.

Agnes’s thoughts meandered through the possibilities. Was there a family matter Mary was concealing? Or perhaps some undisclosed challenge that required utmost discretion?

Agnes’s curiosity mingled with a sense of duty as a daughter, prompting her to unravel the mystery surrounding her mother’s sudden change in behavior.

The realization that her mother, the ever-confident and poised Viscountess, might be facing difficulties struck a chord within Agnes.

The tea remained untouched, the forgotten conversation with Lord Egerton becoming a mere backdrop to the deeper contemplations that unfolded within Agnes’s mind.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the room, Agnes resolved to confront the mysteries that enveloped her family, uncertain of what revelations lay ahead.

Ewan gracefully kissed Agnes on the cheeks, bidding her farewell. “Give my regards to Lady Young, won’t you? It was truly a pleasure, Miss Agnes,” he said with a polite smile.

Relieved to be finally left alone, Agnes reciprocated with a gracious smile. “Thank you, My Lord. I shall convey your regards to my mother. Good evening.”

As she walked back into the house, a sense of solitude enveloped Agnes, and she quickly retired to her room.

Alone in her room, Agnes sank into the plush chair, her mind still entangled with thoughts about her mother’s mysterious behavior. The room, usually a haven of tranquility, felt different tonight—a backdrop to the unfolding drama within the household.

As Agnes gazed out the window, the moon’s silvery glow painted the landscape in muted tones. The tranquility of her room, once a comforting haven, now felt like a silent witness to the unfolding drama within the household. The weight of unanswered questions lingered in the air.

Later that night, the desire to unravel the mysteries surrounding her mother’s peculiar behavior spurred Agnes into action. With the house shrouded in quietude, she stealthily made her way through the corridors, her steps masked by the hushed tones of the night.

Arriving at her mother’s door, Agnes hesitated for a moment. The flickering candlelight from within cast a dance of shadows on the walls, a metaphorical representation of the secrecy that enveloped the household. Taking a deep breath, Agnes pushed the door open, entering the room with a blend of trepidation and determination.

The room, usually adorned with the elegance befitting Lady Young’s station, appeared different in the dim light of the night. Agnes tiptoed toward her mother’s writing desk, where the secrets might be unveiled. The moon’s glow filtered through the curtains, offering just enough light for Agnes to see.

As she approached, Agnes discovered a small stack of letters neatly arranged on the desk. The envelopes, sealed with an air of confidentiality, bore no indication of the sender. The scent of burning wax lingered in the room, a faint trace of secrets sealed and concealed.

With cautious hands, Agnes unfolded one of the letters and read its contents. The words revealed a correspondence that transcended the typical exchanges between acquaintances. The letters contained whispers of alliances, strategic maneuvers, and an undeniable pressure to shape the course of Agnes’s future.

Suddenly, the door creaked softly behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she swiftly concealed the letter in her hands. Before she could react, the door swung open, revealing her mother with a stack of letters in her hands.

Panicking, Agnes dropped the letter on the desk, her eyes wide with trepidation. At that moment, she made a split-second decision, darting behind a shelf of books, the pages of literature providing a fragile veil between her and the unfolding scene.

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