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“You agreed to marry a man—to shackle yourself to a personforever—because you wanted to ease your uncle’s mind?”
“I know how it sounds, but as I said before, he usually forgot by morning.” Caroline stood and started pacing. “We would spend the entire evening arguing about this, and the next day he would forget everything, the entire conversation. So instead of arguing with him, I started humoring him and agreeing to any betrothal he proposed. It made for quieter evenings, and since he never remembered, I did not see any harm in humoring my ailing uncle. But this time, he did remember. He came to me the next morning with the betrothal contract.”
“So, are you going to marry Kensington?” Annalise asked softly.
Caroline halted in her tracks before making a swift turn. She walked back to the settee and plopped next to Annalise.
“Do I have a choice?” she said with an uncertain face that was at odds with her usual self-assured demeanor.
“That’s actually what I came to talk to you about.” Annalise delicately cleared her throat, not quite sure how to breach the subject. Caroline looked at her expectantly. “I know you truly don’t want to marry him… But there’s someone who—”
The door busted open at that moment, and a red-faced, teary-eyed maid flew into the room. Both Annalise and Caroline turned their full attention to her.
“My lady! His lordship—oh, may God help us all!” she cried, and tears streamed down her face as she fell to her knees.
“What’s wrong?” Caroline stood slowly and walked toward the maid with measured steps. “Tell me, what’s wrong?” she commanded, and the maid seemed to pull herself together under the autocratic command of her mistress.
“He’s in his room,” she said through the tears. “Dead, my lady.”
Annalise’s eyes widened, and her mouth slacked open. Before she could react, Caroline was out of the door. Annalise scrambled to follow, but she lost her friend even before she exited the room.
Annalise didn’t know which way to go. Thankfully, the throng of servants rushing to the site helped her navigate through the house. She saw a crowd gather by the room, and she couldn’t quite get past them.
Caroline was nowhere to be seen. Was she with the dead body of her uncle? Was he even truly dead? Surely, Caroline shouldn’t be allowed to see him in this state if that was the case.
As if in response to her thoughts, one of the servants placed himself in front of Annalise, blocking her view. He was tall but thin, like a waif. She thought she recognized him as the late marquess’s valet.
“You shouldn’t be here, my lady,” he said. “Let me escort you back to the parlor.”
“But—”
He extended his hand, showing the way he wanted Annalise to follow, successfully cutting Annalise off.
Annalise dug in her heels. “Lady Caroline is in there. I am not leaving without her. She needs my comfort, she—”
“Please,” the servant said firmly. “Her Ladyship needs her time to grieve.”
It was uncanny for a servant to talk to Annalise this way. She tried to peek and see what was going on behind his back, but he moved his body to block her view every time.
“Very well,” Annalise huffed irritably. “Tell Lady Caroline I’ll be waiting for her in the parlor.” With that, she spun on her heel and stalked away.
* * *
Annalise must have walked the length of the parlor room twenty times while she waited for Caroline to show up. She looked at the strange room, with no paintings, and wondered what else the marquess had asked to take down. More importantly, why had he asked to have these things taken down at all? Perhaps they were of special value to him, or the most probable answer—the old marquess was slowly losing his mind and simply couldn’t account for his actions. She became even more resolute to save Caroline from the unwanted betrothal. Caroline couldn’t possibly marry someone her mad uncle had picked out for her.
After Annalise had done another lap around the room, the door finally opened, and she regarded Caroline’s pale features.
“I… apologize to have kept you waiting,” she said, and Annalise’s mouth dropped.
Had Caroline just apologized to her? Her mind surely must be jumbled. “Dear, you don’t have to apologize. I was worried for you.” Annalise stepped closer to Caroline in an attempt to hug her, but the latter evaded her touch.
“I beg your pardon, Annalise, I don’t feel like…” She paused, her hands extended in a gesture meant to keep Annalise away. “It was a suicide,” she finally said after a moment of silence, her voice devoid of any emotion. Annalise stared at her friend, horrified. “He left me a note explaining it all.” Caroline shook her head. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. “That’s why he insisted I marry. He wanted to make sure I was taken care of.”
“I know he meant well, but now that he is gone, surely you’re not still thinking of marrying Kensington?”
“I have to,” Caroline answered emphatically
“But why? You never—”
