One Wicked Season

I. Wickhurst

When the scandal blew, it signaled the opening of the Wickhurst Season. And of course, an Everard was in the heart of it all.

The eldest of the eight children, Benedict Everard, Lord of Devonshire, announced his engagement to his sisters' governess, Agatha Blair. It would have been an easy one to deal with for the affluent family, but Agatha's questionable reputation was making it a challenge.

This time, the Everards had to come together for their eldest and his fiancée because there was a fair chance they may not survive this one.

What this meant for Lady Victoria Ashdown, however, was the absence of her best friend Margaret. As the oldest daughter of the Everards, it was Margaret's duty to be in constant company of their mother who could be as unpredictable as the rest of her own children.

I am afraid she will do something if I leave her side, Tori, was the worry her friend relayed in her letter yesterday. Please pray that things will return to how they were. And pray for a bigger scandal this Wickhurst Season. It shall be the only one that can save us all. Should I expect you at the engagement ball?

With Margaret preoccupied with family matters, this meant that Tori was alone to crawl under her father's old bed in search of a missing document.

"Milady!" Sarah, her maid, hissed from the side of the bed, right cheek inches away from the floor.

Flat on her back, Tori rolled her head to the side. "Well?" she asked under her breath. Her fingers were absently continuing their search, feeling the underside of the giant bed above her.

"She's leaving, milady."

"And?"

Sarah checked to make sure they were alone and conspiratorially whispered, "We heard little, but we heard enough."

"And?"

"You were right, milady. It was Lucas Rowe."

Tori's jaw tightened.

Rolling her head straight, she stared at the dark and dusty paneling above her.

"Did you find anything, milady?"

"We are rich of cobwebs, Sarah," she murmured with a sigh. Giving up, Tori slid out from under the bed and scrambled to her feet and let Sarah help dust her morning dress down.

"I will order a bath for you, milady," the maid said, carefully picking a silky line of cobweb from Tori's dark blond hair.

"It is Wednesday, is it not?" she asked, turning on her heels to rush to the window. Below, her stepmother's carriage was waiting in the driveway.

"Yes, milady."

Tori stepped back from the window and looked around her father's old room. His scent was slowly being replaced by the drafty smell of dust.

Sarah opened a drawer to do her own search, but they both knew there was nothing there. They had searched this room thrice.

Tori's gaze wandered back to the bed.

It had been three years since August Ashdown passed away, but it had been nineteen long years since Tori first witnessed her father spend the rest of his young life there, slowly wasting away until he finally gave in.

Since she was nine, she would sit here, right where the window was, in a chair that was still sitting in one corner. It was the best angle to watch him because his face would not be too pale. With the light from the window, his eyes seemed alive then.

It was easy to see whenever he was happy, for his gray eyes would glimmer and squint just a little. But whenever he stared at her as though trying to talk, it hurt.