Page 61 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

Agnes, feeling torn between loyalty to her sister and the desire for familial unity, shook her head. “No, Rose, you’re welcome here,” she insisted, a silent plea in her eyes.

But when Agnes turned her gaze toward her parents, seeking a resolution, they both averted their eyes, unwilling to engage in the emotional turmoil. The room held a heavy silence, the unspoken rifts within the family laid bare in the strained atmosphere.

Rose, sensing the futility of the situation, gently squeezed Agnes’s hands before releasing them, but not before placing a piece of paper in them. An address. “If you change your mind and want to see me again, you know where to find us. We live in London now.”

Her words hung in the air, a tentative bridge between the estranged past and the uncertain future.

Agnes, torn between familial loyalty and the reality of the present, mustered the courage to speak. “Rose, wait. I… I thought we could at least—”

Her mother’s grip on her arm tightened, pulling her away. “Agnes, it’s best we leave the past where it belongs. She made her choices, and we’ve made ours. Let her live with them.”

Rose, sensing the unwelcome chill in the room, took a step back. “I’ll leave you to your lives,” she said with a sad smile, the weight of the past hanging between them.

As Rose and Simon made their exit, a heavy silence settled over the room. The door closed, sealing the fractures of a family once united. Benedict’s gaze lingered on his daughter as she walked out.

Agnes, consumed by the urgency to reach out to her sister, took a step forward as Rose and Simon made their exit. The heavy silence in the room seemed to amplify the distance that had grown between them over the years.

“I’ll leave you to your lives.”

Rose’s words hung in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the chasm that now separated them.

Agnes started to follow them, intending to call out and stop them in their tracks. However, Mary’s firm grip on her arm halted her mid-step.

“Agnes, don’t.” Mary’s voice held a stern edge as she redirected her daughter away from the exit. “Your sister made her choice. We must respect it.”

Frustration welled up within Agnes as she resisted her mother’s grip. “But, Mother, she’s family! Can’t we at least let her stay for a night?” she pleaded, her eyes betraying the turmoil within.

Mary’s gaze remained unyielding. “She left us once, Agnes. We cannot let her disrupt our lives again. Our family has moved on.”

Agnes, her emotions reaching a boiling point, shook off her mother’s hold. “Moved on? How can you be so heartless? She’s my sister, and she’s carrying a child! You would turn her away without a second thought?”

Benedict, who had been silently observing, intervened with a measured tone. “Agnes, your mother is right. We cannot dwell on the past. Rose made her choices, and we must make ours.”

Agnes, her frustration escalating into anger, couldn’t fathom the callousness of her parents. “This is not right! We should at least let her stay for the night. It’s the least we can do.”

Mary, unmoved by Agnes’s plea, remained resolute. “Agnes, you have your own path to tread. Focus on securing your future with Ewan. That is our concern now.”

The words ignited a spark of rebellion in Agnes. “I won’t stand by while you treat Rose like she never existed! She’s my sister, and she deserves better!”

The argument escalated, voices echoing through the corridors of Grouton Manor. The family, once a fortress of unity, now stood divided by choices and consequences. The weight of familial expectations bore down on Agnes, leaving her torn between duty and the bonds she longed to protect.

In the aftermath of the heated argument, Agnes stormed away from her parents, her heart heavy with a mix of anger and disappointment. The grandiose doors of Grouton Manor reverberated with the force of her frustration as she slammed them shut behind her, seeking the solitude of her room.

The room, once a sanctuary, now echoed with the echoes of a fractured family. Agnes paced back and forth, the turmoil within her matching the storm that raged outside. Her parents’ callous dismissal of her sister felt like a betrayal of the deepest kind. Agnes couldn’t fathom how they could turn away their own flesh and blood so callously.

As she stood in front of the ornate mirror, Agnes stared at her reflection, the anger in her eyes mirroring the turmoil within.

“Family or not,” she whispered to her reflection, “how could they treat her like she never existed?”

* * *

The ensuing days were marked by a brooding silence in Grouton Manor. Agnes, though fulfilling her duties, carried the weight of unresolved emotions. The routine of dressing up, participating in societal functions, and navigating the expectations placed on her felt like a hollow masquerade.

Two days later, Peggy found Agnes standing by the window, her gaze fixed on the world outside. The sun struggled to pierce through the clouds, a metaphorical reflection of Agnes’s inner gloom.

“Miss Agnes, you’ve been brooding since that night,” Peggy noted, her voice gentle yet probing.

Agnes, turning away from the window, released a heavy sigh. “It’s so unfair, Peggy. Rose came back after all these years, and Mother, Father—they treated her like a stranger. How can they be so heartless?”

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