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 grunted as she smooshed her face into her pillow. A deadly quiet echoed around her, except for the crackling from her fire, the rain outside, and a creaking from the next room.
"Oh!" She heaved herself up and glanced at the adjoining door.
Marguerite's voice slithered under the threshold, loud and exasperated.
"... coffee please. I abhor their tea. I abhor all tea! Ugh!"
Without missing a beat, Céleste bounced to the door and knocked. "Marguerite?"
"Yes, Céleste, come in!"
Céleste obeyed—and gasped upon seeing her. Marguerite was thundering back and forth between her bed-frame and fireplace, raking her hands through her hair, blowing out heavy breaths.
"Are you all right?" Céleste hesitated to walk in, worried the woman would plow into her.
Marguerite's chin jerked up, and she grimaced. "No, I am not." She scanned Céleste's face, and her paces slowed. "What happened to you?" She scurried over and took hold of Céleste's hands. "Are you all right?"
Catching a quick peek at herself in the floor-length mirror off to the side, Céleste understood Marguerite's shock at her appearance. Tear stains streaked through her powder, her eyes were bloodshot, her hair messier than when she woke that morning, her gown ruffled in ways it shouldn't be.
"Oh, I fell asleep after checking on the girls." Her chin sank and she took a step backward.
Marguerite squinted at her. "Did you stay up all night reading?"
No, for once, she hadn't gotten lost in a novel. She'd gotten lost in someone's eyes; eyes that she'd never admire again. "Yes, I did. I should not have, and I am sorry."
Marguerite released her and meandered to her sitting area. "Your reading habits are the least of my problems. Sit." She motioned at a chair. "I need to vent."
"Vent?" With a scoff, Céleste sat. "I had enoughventing today, thank you. Those girls are exhausting! Bickering and gossiping and screaming in corridors—"
"—screaming? Oh, Heavens." Marguerite molded into the sofa cushions. "I will deal with that later. For now, we have bigger issues."
"We?" Céleste's brows inched upward. "What is happening?"
Marguerite kicked off her shoes. "I had breakfast with the Queen today."
Céleste shoved her hands under her thighs. "The Queen, your nemesis, yes?" She thought of the passages in The Golden Girl that alluded to the Duchess' outspoken opponent, but there were little. "Why?"
"Because adults have responsibilities, and mine include having to feign indifference with that woman." Marguerite peeked at the door and tapped her feet on the floor. "She lovesto test my boundaries. Today, she revealed to me that she cannot conceive an heir!"
