others caught wind of the melodrama, they had all followed. She also suspected that Martin had set it all in motion, positioning Lady Thrush to accost Dominick. As he had been the only one at the time with knowledge of Dominick’s location, Calliope supposed her sister’s accusation was warranted. But, it didn’t matter. Whether by design or by chance, the entire incident had opened her eyes to things she hadn’t wanted to see.
The time for grief and dashed dreams was over. As she came to her feet to answer the knock at her door, she squared her shoulders. She had dressed in her plainest day gown, a somber navy-blue affair with few frills and a modest neckline. Ekta had wound her hair into a severe knot at her behest. She had also applied a compress over Calliope’s eyes to leech away the residual swelling caused by tears and a sleepless night. She stood armored in her resolve, ready to face what must happen next.
Her father stood in the corridor, his face set in a mingling of determination and concern.
He offered her a folded slip of paper, sealed closed with red wax. “I came to inform you that Mr. Burke departed early this morning. Word arrived from London that his uncle’s health has taken a dire turn. His servant gave me this to deliver to you.”
She glanced down, finding her name scrawled on the page in Dominick’s familiar, looping hand. He had addressed her as Anni, and the sight of it nearly drove her to tears again. She blinked them back, lowering the note and presenting nonchalance to her father.
“Thank you. Is that all?”
The viscount cleared his throat and avoided her gaze. “Well … there is another matter …”
“Martin.”
“Yes. He has requested an audience with you. I told him I thought it was too soon, but he assured me he doesn’t wish to heap more misery on you. He was rather clear that he doesn’t intend to rescind his offer of marriage. Diana did not think I should allow it, but I thought you ought to know … all things considered.”
She gave a slow nod, her vision becoming bleary again. Calliope supposed she ought to feel something at receiving such news. After all was said and done, her plan had not failed. If Martin was still willing to marry her, she would be saved from total ruin, and the talk of her and Dominick would eventually cease. Respectability would be hers again, and she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life rotting away alongside the aunts.
However, there was only the persistent numbness she’d allowed to take over her body, muffling every emotional response.
“I see.”
The viscount’s face fell as he took her hands. “Anni, you don’t have to do this. There are other ways for us to get past a scandal.”
She shook her head, reaching up to cup his cheek. The dear man was so overwrought, and it was all her fault. Dominick would come to hate her for what she was about to do, adding yet another regret to the growing mountain of her mistakes.
“It’s all right, Papa. I love that you want to protect me, but I must be the one to face the consequences.”
“And you think those consequences should include accepting a man you do not love?”
“I may not love Martin, but I can have a good life with him.”
“But, Mr. Burke—”
“Cannot be my choice. There are things you do not understand … I wish I could explain, but … please, trust me when I say that this is for the best. If you love me, I beg you, say no more of Mr. Burke.”
Her father looked as if he wished to protest, but simply bowed his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. “He’s waiting for you in my study.”
“I’ll go to him shortly.”
With a kiss to her cheek, he was gone.
Her hands shook as she tried to open Dominick’s letter, her hands suddenly clumsy and useless. At last, she unfolded the note, blinking to focus on the words.
Anni,
I regret that I must depart, but I’m certain you understand how imperative it is that I return to London. My uncle’s health has taken a turn for the worse, and my sister’s letter led me to believe we should not expect him to recover. I hope you will grant me another chance to plead my case when you have returned to London. There is so much I want to say, but there isn’t time and a letter could never