Page 5 of Good Duke Gone Wild

So she should have pulled her aside earlier and just gotten the bad news over with. But she had been too busy nursing her wounds and then bolstering her confidence from what little remained after her mother’s criticism.

Needless to say, it hadn’t been the easiest morning, and reliving the rejection with Clara hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind. But she didn’t want any secrets between her and her sister, especially since Clara was the only person in the world that she had never kept a secret from. They had always been able to share openly with each other. Rejoice in each other’s accomplishments (though usually that was done in a clandestine manner) and commiserate in each other’s pain—also done surreptitiously.

And both had been done so to avoid one person in particular, their mother.

Then again, because their mother held them to such high standards, it was also true that no one in society really knew Agatha all that well. Which in and of itself was a lonely thought. How much did any one person really know her? Clara obviously knew the most. But what of her other friends? Mary? Margaret? They might only know about ten percent of the real Agatha. And her other friends still? Bella and Charlotte? Kat and Bernadette? They knew even less.

Despite having attended so many parties together (Bernadette not as much since she was a recent addition to their friend’s group), they probably knew about five percent of the true Agatha. That was a morose thought. Even more troubling was the truth that she had onlyherself to blame. And why didn’t she share more about herself? Fear? Feeling like a failure? Feeling like an imposter?

At no fault of the other women, she knew with absolute certainty that she felt intimidated by most of those in her friend’s circle, especially Mary who was living her dream of being a writer. If Agatha revealed her dream and the women laughed at her—which she knew they wouldn’t—she would feel awful. But worse than that, and much more likely than that, if she shared her dreams and they never came to pass, the women might pity her. And that was something she couldn’t bear.

Better to keep her secret and bear the joy and disappointment alone. Or rather, with one person.

“I heard back,” Agatha sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry, Aggie. You don’t want to talk about it, I assume?”

“Not right now.”

“I’m here for you when you do want to discuss it.” A beat passed as her sister waited for an answer, but then she added, “Just chase your dreams, Aggie. You’re the only one who can.”

Thankfully they were wearing masks and nothing could be detected on their faces. Lest their mother see any hint of emotion. And she would if she had glanced over because a plethora of emotions were dancing across Agatha’s face. Regret. Grief. Curiosity.

A man approached Clara with a wicked grin on his face, “May I have this dance?”

Agatha caught a look from Clara, and she could see the torn look in her sister’s eye, but of course a lady must dance when asked. So even though Clara would have sacrificed the dance for her, neither one wanted to defy the societal strictures that obligated them to accept the dance invitation.

She didn’t really want to talk about it anyway, and more importantly, she wanted to busy herself enough to avoid any undesirable invitations to dance, especially from Oliver. So with that resolve in place, she went in search of her uncle. Though he didn’t know all of her secrets, he at least knew of a few. Which meant conversation wouldn’t be akin to pounding a nail through wood using only her fist.

Her Uncle Bernard always made time for her, perhaps knowing his sister as he did. His wealth was extensive and his knowledge decidedly more so.

Once she caught sight of him, she noticed that he was talking to a man dressed in a pirate’s costume. His back was turned to her, so she wasn’t sure the identity of his conversation partner, but she didn’t mind to wait.

Slowly she made her way to the perimeter of their conversation. Her uncle made eye contact and gave a subtle nod, which she returned.

“This is the last one,” Agatha overheard the pirate murmur.

Her uncle only nodded and then the pirate merged back into the crowds.

“Aggie,” Uncle Bernard drawled, he pulled her into a soft side hug, not caring how informal the greeting was. “How are you this fine evening, my dear?”

“Good. And you?”

He patted her forearm. “Just discussing the merits of utilitarianism versus a universal moral law.”

It certainly hadn’t sounded like Uncle Bernard had been wrapping up a discussion on ethics, but if that was what he was leading with, she wouldn’t turn down the offer for stimulating conversation.

“Bentham and Kant again?”

“Always,” her uncle smirked. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied with an answer.”

“That is quite unfortunate, Uncle. It might be a tormented life you choose to lead since we all desire pleasure, don’t we? Unanswered questions don’t seem conducive to a life of satisfaction and pleasure.”

“True, but life is riddled with unanswered questions. The sooner one can accept that fact, the sooner one can move on and enjoy the other parts of life.”

That was one of the reasons she loved her uncle. He told it like it was, and he didn’t temper his speech merely because she was a woman. As much as he could, he treated her like she was an equal. And he was always open minded to discuss ideas and their consequences.

“You’re right, Uncle. I suppose that’s why I’ll always seek you out. For your wisdom.”

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