I paced anxiously around the sitting room of my home in Lockwood, unable to settle my nerves. Mother should have been released by now. Isabella had promised to expedite things at court, and I'd followed her instructions to the letter—showing remorse, acknowledging my mistakes, even testifying against Lucian.
Yet here I was, still waiting.
My trunks were already half-packed in the corner. The moment Mother returned, we would leave this wretched town forever. Perhaps to the countryside, or even abroad. Somewhere people wouldn't know our names or our disgrace.
I stopped at the window for the hundredth time, scanning the street. The carriage I spotted approaching made my heart leap—until I recognized the crest.
"Beaumont," I whispered, my hope crumbling.
When the knock came minutes later, I composed myself before opening the door. Standing there was not my mother, but my uncle Cyrus—Baron Cyrus Beaumont, looking better dressed than I'd seen him in years.
