The Contract Duchess, a Regency Romance: Key To My Heart Book 1

Chapter 28 - Angela

"This is a key to a unique door," she replied slowly. "A unique door far from here that opened into a room where for a short while I believed that dreams do come true, even for someone like myself. I ought not have kept this key, for I can never return, either to the room, or to the dream I saw therein. It should be returned to its rightful home. Perhaps one day, it will unlock someone else's dreams, as it unlocked mine."

A sob caught in her throat, but she refused to release it. She swallowed hard and walked carefully to the writing desk near the window. Anne hurried to hang the dress back in the closet and arrived at the desk herself just in time to assist Angie to sit carefully on the small chair. Angie set the key gingerly near the upper edge of the desk and set to writing a letter:

My beloved Derrick,

You have been my dream since we were children, and you will be my dream until the day I leave this earth. I was privileged to live my dream a short while, and I will hold my memories of these past weeks close in my heart. I do not regret any part of our courtship and marriage, save that it has to end so soon. I pray you recover fully and find a new duchess with all haste, that your inheritance might return to you. I wish nothing but happiness and blessings on you, my love.

As I prepare myself to separate from you forever, I have discovered that I inadvertently carried the key to your prison away with me in my pocket. In the bright light of day, I see that it is flawed and old, but in my mind I see it only as the means of releasing you from a place where you would surely have withered slowly away, and the comparison to our current situation seems apt. Therefore, I send this key to you, to do with as you like.

I free you from the prison of a marriage that would rob you of all you deserve: your title, your wealth, your family home, a healthy wife, and children. I free you from the burden of guilt, for you are blameless. I free you from the chafing restriction of even friendship; I will refrain from further correspondence.

Let this be goodbye, dear man. Goodbye, and good tidings, always.

Yours, Angie

Her hands were shaking as she folded the letter carefully around the heavy key, and she fumbled a little while sealing it. She paused to dash the tears from her cheeks before addressing the missive in her very best script, being sure not to smear the ink with her tears. Once blotted, she handed the packet to Anne.

"Please see that this gets to Williams Hall with all haste," she whispered. Anne rested a hand on her shoulder briefly before hurrying out of the chamber. Angie held in her tears until she had restored all of her writing tools to their proper places and then sat staring at nothing as teardrops ran silently down her cheeks to drip onto her clasped hands.

At Anne's return, she remembered the mention of guests, and years of training in the rules of society took over. It would be quite rude to refuse a visitor, especially since she received so few in recent years, and in less time than she expected, Angie was dressed in a beautiful pale green dress with silver trim and seated in front of a mirror while Anne fluttered around her, creating an elaborate hairstyle that both complimented her appearance and would not be greatly disturbed if she were to lie back to rest. Usually, the women would chat while Anne saw to this duty, but Angie could not muster any words, and Anne was too kind to pry.

Anne's creation was immediately put to the test, as Angie began to feel weak just as the hairstyle was complete. Anne assisted her back to the bed, now freshly made up, and she ensured the cushions were precisely placed for Angie's comfort and her masterpeice's preservation. For a masterpiece it was. Angie smiled as her eyes drifted shut, recalling the mass of pinned braids and coils, dotted throughout with glimpses of ribbon the color of her gown. At least she could enjoy this bit of joy on a day heavy with dark anticipation.

When she awoke again, she found her energy restored, to her surprise. Anne stepped into her field of vision with a nervous smile.

"My lady, it is time to move to the drawing room, in readiness for the arrival of your guests." She avoided meeting Angie's gaze for more than a second or two, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot with a steady rhythm, a contrast to her usual solid stance.

Angie asked, "What's wrong, Anne?"

Her maid blushed. "It is impossible for me to keep a secret from you, mistress. The announcement of your arriving guests came by letter, with no details besides the approximate number of guests, the time of arrival, and that you should be dressed well for the occasion. The missive assured us that another letter would follow with further information, but there has been no further communication. No one knows what this means, so until we know more, I intend to see you settled in the drawing room presently."

Angie puzzled over this revelation before pushing herself to a sitting position. "What time will the guests arrive?"

Anne stepped forward and offered her hands for Angie to grasp. "We have about a quarter hour left. Can you walk, my lady, or should I fetch your brothers to carry you?"

Angie wrapped her fingers around the maid's offered hands and repositioned her legs so her feet dangled a short distance above the floor. "I believe I can walk, but I will need stockings and footwear to complete my outfit."

Anne tilted her head to one side. "With your leg braces, ma'am?"

Angie kicked her feet a little off the side of the bed, assessing. "No braces today, just to walk to the drawing room. I have not enjoyed wearing stockings and real shoes in so long." She grinned at the prospect.

Anne matched her grin in kind. "One moment, then." She hurried to the wardrobe and bent low to rustle around in a low drawer. In a blink, she appeared kneeling at Angie's feet with a pair of white stockings, two lengths of ribbon to match that woven in her hair, and a pair of low-heeled cream-colored boots. The specially crafted boots boasted embroidered flowers in yellow thread which covered other stitches that secured metal braces to steady her ankles. It had been many months since she had felt well enough to wear them instead of her braces, and the sight of them stretched her grin a little wider.

Anne proficiently wielded the buttonhook to secure the boots to her feet before she straightened and offered her arm to Angie. Still grinning, Angie slid her feet to the floor, content to leave her heartache behind her on the bed for a while.