Chapter 120

The last time Draven had visited Somerton, she had done what she always did.

She stayed upstairs while he waited for hours.

She knew because Merissa told her afterward that Draven had remained in the drawing room long after Dorothea made it clear there was nothing more to be gained from his visit. Eventually, he left looking forlorn.

Lorelei had watched from behind the curtain as his carriage disappeared down the road.

Only then had she closed the curtains and cried herself to sleep.

She cried again the following morning. And the morning after that.

She cried so often over the next several days that even Dorothea’s patience had begun to wear thin, though the older woman offered little sympathy for the pain she had helped create.

Perhaps that was what finally changed something inside Lorelai. It was the realization that she could not continue living this way.

She could not spend the rest of her life hiding from the people she loved simply because she no longer had the right to their affection.

What if Draven stopped coming?

What if her mother eventually decided that Lorelai was no longer worth the effort and stopped caring altogether?

What if, one day, she finally gathered enough courage to return home, only to discover that the place she had spent years longing for was no longer open to her?

That thought terrified her.

So when Draven’s letter arrived, it felt almost like a sign from heaven.

In the letter, he wrote about what had been happening in his life. He had met a woman he cared for and intended to marry her.

He wanted Lorelei at his wedding, that he missed her terribly, and that the distance between them was tearing him apart. More than anything else, he asked her to put aside everything that happened and do this one thing for him.

Lorelei had read that particular line again and again.

A silent battle raged inside her. She spent the next few days wondering whether she was selfish for considering it.

Dorothea was horrified to say the least when she learned of the invitation. She did not bother to hide her displeasure.

"You cannot seriously mean to go," she had said.

When Lorelei didn’t offer up a response, Dorothea continued, reminding her that at the wedding all of Arden’s finest families would be present, that Lorelei’s appearance would inevitably draw attention away from the bride and groom. She spoke of gossip that would ensue, cautioned against resurrecting an old scandal and the possibility that people might focus more upon the Duke’s disgraced sister rather than the bride.

Lorelei had listened demurely. There had been a time when every word would have sunk deep and found their mark. This time, something inside her had already begun to resist.

She was tired. Not merely of Dorothea’s vile words, but tired enduring her constant hostility.

She was tired of pushing away her own family and desperately wanted to see them.

So later that night, after dinner, she trudged back up to her bedroom and wrote a letter to Draven.

Her hand had trembled while she did it.

In her letter, she asked him to send a carriage because Dorothea would not provide one and, unable to help herself, she asked if he was certain he wanted her at his wedding.

Then she waited.

Five days later, the sound of carriage wheels outside the Langley residence sent her heart racing.

She had a clear enough view from her bedroom window as the carriage came to a gentle halt. Upon closer look, she saw it bore the Montague crest, a figure of a golden lion.

Ecstatic, Lorelei was halfway down the stairs before she could properly rein herself in.

She rushed outside in a mad frenzy, skirts gathered slightly in one hand, stopping only when she reached the gleaming carriage. One of Draven’s men stepped forward and offered her a sealed envelope.

Her fingers trembled as she took it.

She broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter hastily, recognizing Draven’s handwriting instantly.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she read his response.

My dearest Lorelei,

I have read your letter three times already because I could hardly believe what I was reading. You are truly coming?

You have no idea what this means to me. I have missed you every day, and I have often wondered whether I would ever manage to persuade you to come home. I am only sorry it has taken my wedding to accomplish what years of pleading could not.

I want you to meet Cassandra. She is the woman I have chosen to marry, and I cannot wait for you to know her. I think you will like her very much, though I reserve the right to be offended if the two of you decide I am the difficult one.

Mother will be overjoyed to see you. She has spoken of you often, and I know she will be counting the hours until you arrive. I have already made certain that everything is prepared for you, so do not trouble yourself about anything.

I have sent the carriage to Somerton. Please come as soon as you are able.

I would give the world to see my sister again.

Your loving brother,

Draven

She pressed the letter against her chest, closing her eyes as warmth spread through her.

Something inside her finally broke, like a knot that had been pulled too tightly for too long.

She was going home.

Even if it was only for a wedding, even if she had to leave again afterward.

She could no longer bear the thought of letting guilt steal another year from her.

Lorelei turned and hurried back inside the house, heading straight to her room.

She packed two valises quickly. Dresses, nightclothes, a few personal belongings—whatever her hands found went into the cases without much consideration.

She was fastening one of the valises when the door opened behind her.

Her cousin, Merissa, stood there, staring.

"What are you doing?" She asked, confused by the sight of Lorelei hastily packing. Her mind leapt to the worst possibility. Had her mother gone mad and kicked poor Lorelei out?

Lorelei looked at her cousin, then at the disheveled room around her.

"I am going to Caldor. To see my brother. He is expecting me."