Page 68 of The Duke on Her List
Enter a gentlemen’s club.
Refuse a marriage proposal.
Dance in the rain with a gentleman.
Kiss someone.
Agnes stared at the list in front of her, hardly able to believe it.
It was done.
She had never dreamed, back when she’d started this journey, that the list would actually be completed one day. It hadn’t seemed possible. She had thought of it as a distant fantasy, an idle daydream. Not something that might really happen.
She picked up a pen and drew check marks beside each number, one through five. Check, check, check. Then she carefully folded the list. She opened one of her books—it was a dusty, dry tome, containing nothing but history—and tucked it in amongst the pages. She replaced the book on the shelf and took a long, slow breath.
Now what?
When she had thought about the list in the past, she had always thought of it as something that would spice up her life. Something that would add interest and flavor to the days that were otherwise all the same. And for a while, it had been that. Every day had been exciting. Every day had held the promise of a new adventure.
Now the adventures were at an end, though, and she was back to her everyday life. A big house that she shared with no one but the servants who worked for her. A future full of days that contained no promise of thrills or excitement of any kind.
I remained single because I wanted to hold onto my freedom. Well, I have it—and suddenly, freedom feels more oppressive than anything else possibly could.
It was a relief when the footman opened the door to the library and ushered Dorothy and Violet into the room. At least they would be able to take her mind off things.
But Agnes was immediately disappointed. Dorothy hurried to her side and embraced her. “Oh, Agnes,” she murmured. “I wasso sorry to hear about the end of your courtship. You must be devastated.”
“I was the one who ended it,” Agnes reminded her friends, fighting to keep a scowl off her face. “Why would I be devastated when the choice was mine?”
“But you were forced into that choice,” Violet pointed out. “We understand what happened. The duke was not the man you’d believed him to be, so you had to end things.”
“You believe everything you read in the scandal sheets, Violet.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Dorothy countered. “Violet is very sensible. She doesn’t even read the scandal sheets most of the time. I’m the one who told her what had been printed. I didn’t believe it at first myself. But she told me it was probably the truth, because it sounded so much like you. I’d have a hard time believing that you were sitting at home heartbroken because a man had ended a courtship with you. But if you had truly allowed yourself to begin to care for that man, only to discover that he was less than what you’d believed him to be…yes, that would break your heart.”
“I’m not heartbroken,” Agnes said.
The words hurt to say, because they were so far from true. It was impossible to utter them without feeling the lie.
Shewasheartbroken.
All she could think about was that last kiss. How lost in it she had been. How she could have spent hours in his arms, reveling in the warmth and the strength of his hold on her, exploring this strange new world that was kissing a man. She might have wanted even more. But the risk had been far too great.
