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's eyelids labored to lift despite the rustling noises fluttering into her ears. Her nostrils twitched at delicious scents from her left—was that ham? Eggs? Fresh-baked biscuits?
As her stomach groaned, she freed one eye from darkness, followed by the other, then shielded her face as blinding light streamed from her window.
The morning sun blasted in, displaying her room in a yellowish glow. She yawned, scratching her sticky cheeks, rubbing her puffy eyes.
As her eyesight adjusted, she discovered the source of the sounds that woke her.
"Marguerite?"
Not removing her sight from within the closet as she rummaged through it, Marguerite grunted. "Good morning." Her white floral-patterned gown swayed as she bent over, lifted to her tiptoes, and threw dresses onto the ground.
Céleste heaved herself up and felt dizzy from the motion. "What is happening? What are you doing?"
Jolting around, Marguerite revealed the burgundy petticoat slashing down the middle of her dress—and her lower-than-usual neckline decorated by her flower pendant. It glimmered in the sunlight, and a few strands of her golden hair shimmered as they slid into her décolleté.
"Inspecting your outfits." She frowned, but her eyes were alert, awake—as if she'd had severalcups of coffee.
"For what?" Céleste threw her covers off and located her Golden Girl book nestled beside her.
"You need a white dress. I was certain I saw one when the royal staff unpacked your things." Marguerite huffed and returned to the armoire.
"A whitedress?" Brows furrowing, Céleste set her bare feet on the warm wooden floor and unleashed a sigh of relief—she'd fallen asleep shivering.
"Yes, white—" Marguerite gestured at her to join her, "—and proper enough for the occasion."
Balancing on her sore limbs, Céleste ambled up to her Director. "What occasion?"
Marguerite scoffed as she yanked Céleste closer and grabbed her shoulders. "Do you need coffee? Or did you hit your head while you slept? For your Presentation, tonight!"
Her high-pitched tone caused Céleste to wince and stumble backwards. "My Presentation? But I cannot..." She pressed her hand against her racing heart. "My brother declined to accompany me, I assumed you would have heard—"
"—I did." Without looking at her, Marguerite pulled out of the wardrobe while wrinkling her nose. "And I found a loophole to that situation. Well," she spun on her heels and smirked, "Sébastiendid, and enlisted my help. So here I am! The issue is rectified. Your soppy farewell note is no longer valid."
Oh Heavens, she read it?
"How?" Céleste twirled a few hairs around her fingers and shuffled her feet. This was an alternative she hadn'tprepared for.
