Page 62 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

Peggy, with a knowing glance, approached Agnes. “Family matters can be complicated, Miss Agnes. Sometimes, people are afraid to confront the past, and it makes them act in ways they might regret.”

Agnes, her frustration seeking an outlet, felt the spark of determination. “I can’t let this stand. Rose is carrying a child, and they turned her away like she’s a burden. I need to see her, Peggy. I need to make sure she’s all right.”

Peggy, offering her support, nodded understandingly. “If that’s what you feel you must do, Miss Agnes, I’ll help you. Your sister deserves to know she has family who cares.”

The spark of determination in Agnes’s eyes mirrored her frustration, seeking an outlet beyond the confines of Grouton Manor. As she voiced her resolve to see Rose, Peggy, the ever-attentive companion, exchanged a knowing glance with her.

Peggy’s expression shifted from understanding to caution, immediately grasping the potential consequences of such a clandestine meeting. She began to shake her head slowly, her lips forming the word “no” without uttering it out loud.

Agnes turned toward Peggy, her eyes pleading. “Peggy, you’re the only one who can help me. Please, I need to see Rose, make sure she’s all right. I can’t bear the thought of her facing this alone.”

Peggy hesitated, caught between loyalty to Agnes and the fear of reprisal from Agnes’s parents.

Agnes, sensing Peggy’s inner conflict, approached her and took her hands in a pleading gesture. “Peggy, we can’t let Rose face this on her own. I need your help. Please.”

After a moment of tense silence, Peggy sighed, her resolve softening. “Very well, Miss Agnes. If this is what you truly want, I’ll help you.”

The plan unfolded in whispers and stolen glances, Peggy taking on the role of the silent ally. Late at night, when Grouton Manor was cloaked in the embrace of darkness, Peggy assisted Agnes in dressing in a way that wouldn’t attract attention. They moved with practiced stealth, avoiding creaking floorboards and shadowed corners.

Peggy, a custodian of secrets and confidante extraordinaire, devised a plan that involved Agnes slipping away from the manor undetected. Silently, Peggy procured a carriage waiting discreetly beyond the estate’s boundaries.

As Agnes stepped into the carriage, the night air carrying a chill of uncertainty, Peggy handed her a small pouch containing essentials and a bit of coins.

“Take care of yourself, Miss Agnes. And your sister,” Peggy whispered, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and determination.

The carriage carried Agnes through the dimly lit streets of London, a clandestine journey that felt like an escape from the constraints of societal expectations. Agnes, both anxious and determined, contemplated the path she was embarking upon. The flickering gas lamps painted fleeting scenes of a city that held both promise and peril.

As they made their way to the location Rose had shared, Agnes’s mind raced with thoughts of what she would say. The weight of familial expectations still pressed down on her, but the yearning to reconnect with Rose eclipsed everything else.

Agnes, fueled by a mixture of determination and concern, had managed to find Rose’s address in London. Standing before the door, she took a deep breath, her hand poised to knock. As the echoes of her knuckles against the wood reverberated, Agnes felt a surge of anxiety.

The door swung open, revealing Rose on the other side. Shock painted her features, a mirroring of the astonishment that Agnes felt at the unexpected reunion. The sisters locked eyes, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

As Rose welcomed Agnes inside, the air hung heavy with unspoken tension. Agnes took hesitant steps, glancing around the unfamiliar surroundings. The sisters found themselves in an awkward dance of glances and silence, each wrestling with the weight of the past.

“Where’s Simon?” Agnes asked, her voice carrying a touch of unease.

Rose’s eyes flickered, a subtle shift in her expression. “He’s at work. Night shift.”

The explanation hovered between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the different lives they now led.

Nodding, Agnes sank into a chair, uncertainty gnawing at her. The seconds ticked by, echoing the pulsating tension in the room. Agnes, her patience waning, finally broke the silence.

“You left, Rose. You left, and everything changed,” Agnes accused, her words sharp with the resentment that had festered over the years.

Rose sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I know, Agnes. I know I’ve caused pain, and I’m sorry.”

The apology, though earnest, couldn’t erase the years of separation. Agnes, however, felt a flicker of empathy for her sister. Rose, too, had faced her own struggles.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” Agnes retorted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

Yet, beneath the anger, a seed of longing for the connection they once had persisted.

“Sorry doesn’t mend the loneliness, the weight of every gaze fixed on me, scrutinizing my every move,” Agnes continued, frustration and hurt intertwining in her words.

Rose nodded, accepting the weight of Agnes’s words. “I understand, Agnes. I do. But I couldn’t stay, not then.”

As the conversation unfolded, the sisters navigated the delicate terrain of apologies and unmet expectations. Rose, her vulnerability exposed, shared the hardships she endured after her departure. Agnes, in turn, couldn’t deny the genuine remorse in Rose’s eyes.

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