Matthew stood before Whitmore Manor.
Impeccably dressed, his hair styled meticulously, his imposing figure filled out a tailored suit, the silver-grey tie at his collar adding a touch of brightness to his otherwise composed demeanor.
No one would guess he'd been drinking until dawn, just as no one could see the irritation and disgust churning within him. He'd assumed he had years before an engagement with Agnes, time to strategize and maneuver. But a sudden summons from the Whitmore family had shattered all his plans.
Agnes descended the steps, the picture of a haughty princess.
"Darling," he murmured, kissing her hand.
"Aunt Celia is in a good mood today," Agnes said, looping her arm through his with a smile. "Behave yourself, and she'll like you."
Matthew nodded, following the but
