Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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Céleste shook out her curls after unfastening her pins. Now that her heart-beats had settled and the fog around her senses had dissipated, she hadto speak to Marguerite.
It all still terrified her. A royal Prince had an interest in her, but she wasn't available for him to choose! Of all the predicaments for her to land in...
If anyoneunderstood such deception, it was the Duchess who'd ran from a Prince. The woman who'd escaped the man who destroyed her heart.
Marguerite.
Unsure of the time, Céleste rushed to the adjoining door. "M-Marguerite? Are you in there?"
"Come in, Céleste." Her voice was distant, tired.
Céleste found her resting on her bed, her dress fanned out around her, the reds and blues blending in with the light pinks of the duvet.
The room was grim, but a hint of a glow tried to blare through the closed curtains.
Marguerite sat up and waved her over. Parts of her up-do had come undone, and lines dug into her forehead.
Tip-toeing over the threshold, Céleste sniffed at the coffee scent in the air. "I do not mean to interrupt anything."
Getting closer, she detected the black circles under Marguerite's eyes, the cracks in her dry lips.
Despite her obvious distress, she patted the spot beside her. "You interrupt nothing. I had a difficult encounter with the girls, and it caused a slight migraine. Nothing new."
Walking around the bed, Céleste propped herself onto the mattress, ensuring her gown covered her legs. "I have come off my cloud and I seek information. On the Prince." Her throat clogged up as she spoke.
Marguerite exhaled and reached for the mug on her nightstand. "Of course."
"I am sure this is too much to ask, but," Céleste peered into her lap, palms becoming clammy, "I mustunderstand. Why—"
"—why you, yes; you have repeated that all afternoon." Marguerite swallowed a few swigs of her beverage. "But I fear I have no answer for you."
"But you know him, yes?" Marguerite shrugged and guzzled down more java. "Can I believe him? Is he trustworthy?"
Marguerite bit her lip and peeked into her mug. "Sébastien is the most trustworthy royal I know." She whipped her neck up, eyes darkening as she zoned in on Céleste. "Wait—believe him? Believe what? Did hemake promises?"
Lumps formed at the top of Céleste's throat. "No, he did not, but he insisted he felt something."
"Felt something?" Marguerite stroked her chin, clutching her cup tight with her other hand. "Felt something for you?"
