The Debutante (Season Series #2)

Chapter 41: An Unlikely Warning

I'd never witnessed my parents as livid as they were when I was dragged before them in the entrance hall, kicking and spitting like an alley cat. Dorian and an older man with the same cruel tilt to his mouth looked on from a distance, the pair of them clearly no more pleased than my parents by my antics. But rather than school my behaviour, I redoubled my struggle in an effort to further dissuade my supposed fiancé.

My parents bundled me into the carriage before I could do any more harm to their reputation and I screamed and swore at them the entire ride back. They took my abuse in stoic silence, my father only once barking at me to stop "screaming like a street tart", which only escalated my fury and desperation. Upon arrival, butler Finn was the one who hauled me to my room, seeming to relish his bruising grip on my arms before he tossed me in. My father was the one to turn the key in the lock, not a hint of pity on his face when he slammed the door behind him.

When an entire night of stomping, screaming, and making a general nuisance of myself so the rest of the house couldn't enjoy a peaceful night of slumber didn't earn my freedom, I set to writing. I filled a sheaf of papers with words, intent on recruiting aid from anyone willing to help. I wrote to Xavier, Georgina, Anne, Thomas, and even Edward, my writing hand freezing in place as I commenced my letter to Andrew.

I had no idea where to begin, or even what to say. He'd made it clear enough that he needed time to think, but now that I was locked up with imminent nuptials to a scoundrel, I didn't have the luxury of time. With a sigh, I kept the letter short.

Andrew,

I will spend my dying breath professing my love for you. This was not my doing, nor do I intend to see it through. They've locked me up and when they come for me, I won't go without a fight.

I love you. I always have and I always will. Please don't give up on me.

Libby

My eyes were bloodshot from my sleepless night and all my writing, but I forced myself to remain awake until my door unlocked the next morning. A wide-eyed maid hurried in with a tray and I caught a glimpse of butler Finn hovering just outside the doorway. I pushed myself up from the desk, yawning as I ambled over to peruse the breakfast tray. Using the width of my skirts to conceal my actions, I slid my letters under the china, my stomach vocally protesting what I was about to do as a whiff of the eggs and sausages reached my nose.

"I'm not hungry," I lied, turning away from the tea tray, "Take this pathetic excuse for a breakfast away."

The maid's wide-eyes flitted to Finn, who simply shrugged. She collected the tray and the pair left me alone. I prayed that somehow the maid would do the right thing and post the letters for me, but I knew I was grasping at straws. She had no reason to help me, but in some wild part of my imagination, she would simply shrug upon discovery of my letters and add them to the post pile. Short of throwing a chair out my window and leaping from the second storey, I couldn't think of any other options now that my brain was muddled from lack of sleep. Ignoring my growling stomach, I collapsed onto my bed and fell into a restless sleep.

I was rudely awoken a few hours later by the sharp raps of my mother's knuckles on my door. Shaking my bleary head to clear it, I looked around for a moment to get my bearings, only to realize my mother was snapping something at me from the other side of the door.

"...company! Make yourself presentable at once, I'm seating them in the downstairs drawing room!" she said, before her footsteps faded down the corridor. I looked over at my disheveled self in the mirror, my stomach hardening to stone. I knew who it was and I was not going to make myself presentable, not in the least.

I dragged my fingers through my hair, tugging even more flyaway strands out from the braided bun I'd fallen asleep in. My dress was a sorry wrinkled mess and I debated changing out of it into something even frumpier, but after rummaging through my trunks, I discovered I no longer owned anything remotely frumpy. I was studiously scrunching and sitting on my skirts in an attempt to worsen the wrinkles when butler Finn opened the door.