Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Agnes pulled her dressing gown closer to herself as she sat down by the windowsill.
Given how late it was, the silence in the air was befitting, and yet, the calmness of the night did nothing to quell the anxiety within her.
Her mind felt far too noisy for her to have any hope of falling asleep, and after tossing and turning for an hour, she felt it would be better to just sit for a bit until she felt less anxious.
Tomorrow was the day of the competition.
Finally, all her hard work would be given a chance to manifest, and her hopes lay in Scar winning.
But she could not ignore the voices that wondered what would happen if he lost. How would Silas feel about it?
Would he merely brush it aside because he had not planned to win in the first place?
Or would he feel upset because she had raised his hopes and even asked him to put in his prized horse? What if Scar got hurt?
Agnes’ fears were rooted in disappointing her husband-to-be.
Lately, their relationship had been full of warmth and affection.
Perhaps a little more than she expected in a certain practice, but she was neither complaining nor ungrateful for it.
Silas seemed as though he felt thankful for her, like she had really been of great help to him by training Scar.
Until he had gifted her that glass figurine, she had not realized that deep down, she was terrified of being useless to him. If they had gotten married and she could not provide him with anything else other than what he had been after… it would have made for a very disheartening marriage.
These days, they had gotten a little closer, and it made her believe that perhaps their marriage would feel less lonely when the time came.
Lately, her thoughts were less focused on her sisters and strayed more to her betrothed.
Of course, she still wanted to be reunited with her sisters – more than anything.
But… she also wanted Silas. With all that, he was.
For once, it was not just about what she could do or how she could put herself forward to provide. She wanted him, his kiss, his touch, his deep chuckles and passionate gaze. She wanted him to be her husband, to have a proper future with him.
But as they got closer to their wedding, she could not help but feel as though she was waiting for the other shoe to drop – like the days of peace she had received had come to an end.
She kept her eyes on the window, watching the moonlit trees sway in the wind and exhaled deeply.
“I hope we win, at least…” she mumbled to herself.
The morning did not bring with it the peace Agnes had hoped for. Still, she persevered, determined to spend the day supporting Scar as much as possible rather than being weighed down by her worries.
Silas came down to join the women for a light breakfast, steadfastly ignoring every suggestive expression sent his way, opting to focus on his eggs and coffee instead.
He did engage Agnes in a simple conversation about the weather and her expectations of Scar’s performance at the competition later that day.
She had tried to quell concerns, not wishing to burden her betrothed with her discomfort, especially when they both got into a carriage and left for the field, where the competition was to be hosted.
But Silas had already noticed that she did not seem to be herself, a little put off by the silence hanging over them.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” he questioned, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.
Agnes leaned away from the carriage window and said,
“Do not ask questions to which you already know the answers to.”
Silas nodded. “That’s fair. But you have nothing to worry about. You have done a fantastic job with Scar, and I have no doubt whatsoever that he will be bringing home the winning title. It will be all right.”
She merely sighed and shifted her gaze back to the window, leaving Silas to stew in the feelings of dismay at her mood. He was not sure what her concerns were or why she would not share them with him, but he was ready to do whatever it took to make sure that nothing went wrong that day.
He had already failed to protect her once – when she fell while mounting Scar.
In his defense, he sought out his cousin as soon as he shared his suspicions, but the git was not home then, and his stewards had no idea where he had gone off to.
Silas had made numerous efforts to confront him, but it seemed as though Lewis was quite intent on avoiding him – even though his actions only served to further implicate him.
Today, however, Lewis was sure to be at the competition, as his desire for an ego boost was surely greater than his survival instincts.
Silas was going to find him and give back the consequences of his actions.
Their age-old rivalry had gone on long enough for the moron to know better than to involve someone else – Silas’s wife-to-be, no less.
Until then, the Duke planned to do whatever he could to keep his betrothed spirits up.
“Perhaps some good news might encourage you to lift your chin,” he started, waiting until her gaze slid to him in mild interest. “I have made some preparations, and after our wedding, we will make our way to the countryside to visit Lady Prudence.”
Agnes sat up and faced him properly, her eyes wide and shining with hopeful anticipation.
“Please tell me you do not jest,” she breathed, clutching onto his arm.
“I gave you my word that I would reunite them with you, and I am nothing if not a man of my word,” he smiled down at her, resting a hand over hers as they held onto his. “You will be with them again soon. Like you have wished for so long.”
If Agnes had not quite known it before, she was very sure of it now. She was in love with this man.
Words failed to leave her at that moment, to tell him just how grateful she was, how much she cared that he had not forgotten their initial deal and had even made attempts to fulfill it without her knowledge.
The joy in her heart knew no bounds, and she leaned forward, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.
Suddenly feeling shy, she tried to pull back, but he stopped her with a hand bracing against the side of her neck, tilting her head back so he could deepen the kiss. Silas inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent and relishing the calm that always came with it.
It was strange. He had not felt satisfaction such as this in a long time, not since his grandfather passed.
But he supposed that it was merely an additional effect of letting Agnes into his life like a storm.
She had awakened various emotions within him – some he had not realized he was capable of feeling – and had even given him a sense of purpose.
He wondered how long it would take for her to fill up all the voids he had lived with for years after they got married, knowing from what he had experienced with her that it was not a question of if but when.
It was a struggle to let her go, and he only conceded because he felt the carriage come to a stop.
Still, he held onto her, soaking up her blissful, flushed expression – this one much softer than the ones he saw after he had guided her to a release – his heart thundering in his chest as she lay her head against it and muttered,
“Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”
It would be fine, surely… if he just let go this once.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking her hair gently.
“I do know. And you are welcome, Agnes.”
Slowly, she pulled away and smiled at him, and he nodded at her curtly, knocking at the door sharply.
The coachman opened it, and Silas stepped out, holding out a hand to Agnes.
She slipped hers into him, accepting his assistance out of the carriage, her attention immediately caught by the mass of people and horses on the field, separated by the numerous colorful tents around.
Silas grinned at the excitement he could see working its way into her veins and tugged her closer to his side, eager to show her around.
“We’ll look around in a bit. First, we should –”
“Your Grace! Your Grace!” Simon called from a few feet away, running towards them.
Silas frowned, holding his hand out to steady the boy as he tripped in his haste to approach his master.
“Simon, what –”
“There’s – it’s bad, Your Grace,” Simon panted, short of breath.
“Calm down and breathe, Simon.” Agnes urged softly. “Whatever it is, we will deal with it.”
Simon shook his head, trying with all his might to get the words out.
“It’s Scar! Your Grace, he – he’s sick.”
A chill ran down Silas’ spine, and his face became blank.
“Show me,” he ordered.
Simon nodded and turned around, leading them to a small tent that had been set up to prepare Scar for the competition before it began.
Silas pushed away the flap that covered the entrance, his heart falling at the sight of his horse on the floor, huffing and snorting in discomfort.
He went down on his knees and reached out to stroke Scar’s neck, going still as he felt a shudder run through the creature’s body.
He had seen this enough times when his grandfather had been teaching him to ride and care for horses enough to recognize the signs.
Scar had been poisoned.
“Did you hear anyone else make any reports of their horse being sick?” he asked Simon quietly.
The boy shook his head. “No, Your Grace. But we’ve only just arrived –”
It didn’t matter. If this was a bid to weed out the competition, the perpetrator would have sought to take out as many horses as possible.
In fact, even if Silas was his only true adversary, he would have still made an effort to conceal his tracks by poisoning other horses, so the main focus of the attack would be lost.
So, not only was this a targeted attack, but an imbecile was also responsible. And there was only one person that came to Silas’ mind who that could be.
“Fucking Lewis,” he growled under his breath as he rose. “I should have unearthed him from whichever hole he crawled into and killed him while I had the chance.”
He had begun to leave but then caught sight of a piece of paper pinned to one of the wooden posts within the tent. Quickly, he ripped it off and read the messy scrawl on it, feeling his blood begin to boil with every word.
How does it feel to lose everything? If you want the antidote, meet me in grandfather’s old stable house.
Silas crumbled up the note in his hand and stormed out of the tent. Agnes gave a sorrowful, concerned glance to Scar before following Silas, doing her best to catch up to him but ultimately unable to because of his hurried, angry pace.
“S-Silas…” she called out for him, unhappy when he did not stop or turn to look at her. “Silas, please, wait!”
He still kept moving, swiftly avoiding colliding into people coming from the other direction and with a frustrated groan, Agnes willed her legs to move faster, grabbing onto his arm as soon as she was within reach to do so.
“Silas, stop,” she said, pulling him to a standstill. “It’s… I know you’re worried, and you’re scared. But charging away like this is not going to solve anything, and it won’t help Scar get better. So… please, just – calm down.”
She slipped her hands from his arm down to his hand, holding it up to her chest. “You are not alone. You don’t have to solve this all on your own.
We – we can think of something together, hatch some sort of plan to fix this, you and me.
We will get through this… because we love each other, and that’s what love does.
It fights and perseveres, and if we just –”
“We do not love each other,” Silas stated coldly as he ripped his hand away from hers. “I will never be able to love you. Do not delude yourself into thinking so just because we might have grown somewhat close in the last few weeks. That will never happen.”
Agnes’ eyes widened, and she took a slight step backwards.
“Silas… surely you do not mean that –”
“This,” he gestured between them, “This proposed marriage of ours was a mere necessity I was forced to undertake because my grandfather had included an additional stupid rule in his will that would have kept me from the rest of my inheritance if I did not marry. That is why you are here – why I need a wife. I told you from the start that I sought nothing more, and if you think that just because there have been some… moments between us, you are mistaken. We are nothing more than business partners, and we will never be more than that. Now, just… stay out of my way and let me fix this mess – one that I would not have had to deal with if you had not insisted on having your way, if you hadn’t forced me to involve Scar in this. ”
With one last cold look, he walked away, leaving her behind.
Agnes watched him get further and further, unable to move or do anything more than that.
Her gaze remained on his back until it disappeared from sight, and her heart grew heavy, as did her lungs.
It took her a moment to remember to breathe, and with a deep exhale, the tears that had gathered in her eyes began to fall.