Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

" W hat is she doing here?" Ciara demanded, her voice rising in panic.

"You didn't really think that you would be able to get away with all your wrongdoings?" her father asked, sounding genuinely incredulous.

Ciara felt as if the whole world was spinning around.

"Your behavior affects us all, you know," he added.

Ciara was silent, completely stunned into speechlessness.

"For instance, that gown you are wearing now," her mother pointed out. "One must always strive for a bit more elegance, don't you think?"

Ciara couldn't believe that with Mother Superior there, her mother was talking about her gown. And the woman just watched Ciara menacingly, as if biding her time. Then, she spoke.

"I have been called here with a plea for help," Mother Superior finally said. "And I see why now."

Ciara shook her head, petrified of Mother Superior and what she represented. She felt that same helplessness and lack of control that she was overwhelmed by before. It grabbed hold of her and refused to let go.

"There has been no improvement, Mother Superior," Ciara's mother said with a heavy sigh. "We were all hoping for some, but there is none."

"Of course, there is none," Mother Superior said disapprovingly. "She left the nunnery while she was still being molded into what she was supposed to become. The process stopped, and of course, she reverted to her old ways."

"I mean, all her friends are all thriving in their social circles, also having married dukes and earls. At least, she managed that as well, but the rest…"

Her mother's voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air. Ciara couldn't believe that they were talking about her as if she weren't even there.

Ciara's heart sank. Her mother was so supportive when she was pouring her heart out about her argument with Jonathan, and now, it seemed that everything had turned upside down. She couldn't make heads or tails of anything at that moment. All she knew was that she had been betrayed… once again.

"Really, Ciara, one would think you'd have a better handle on things by now. Your choices seem rather… questionable," her mother said, her tone growing more caustic.

Lord Hartfield added. "Yes, it's clear you've made some unwise decisions. Perhaps it's time to reconsider your approach. That is why we knew that the only person who could help was Mother Superior."

"Yes," her mother added, "your behavior at the ball was rather… scandalous."

Lord Hartfield took a sip of his wine, and then he continued. "Yes, your behavior with the Duke was highly inappropriate. It's not becoming of a duchess."

Her mother's tone hardened. "Your conduct was utterly improper. The way you carried on with your husband, the public display of affection—such behavior is beneath you. A duchess should carry herself with dignity, not like a…"

She hesitated as if choosing her words carefully. "Not like a frivolous debutante."

Ciara's face was flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "I was simply enjoying the evening. I was with my husband?—"

Her father cut her off. "You need to understand, Ciara, that there are certain expectations and standards that come with your position. Your actions have consequences. The way you're behaving, it's as if you need a lesson in propriety."

"You have not changed at all," her mother pointed out. "But don't worry, we know how to rectify that… this time for good."

Her father turned to Mother Superior. "I think we are done here."

Before she could process the situation, Ciara felt an overwhelming wave of drowsiness wash over her. Her vision blurred, and her limbs grew heavy. She hadn't noticed it before as she attributed those sensations to stress and fear, but now, she knew better.

She tried to stand, but her body wouldn't obey her commands.

Realization dawned on her. "You've drugged me," she whispered, horrified.

A sinister smile spread across her father's face. "It's for your own good, Ciara. You need to learn your place."

Mother Superior stepped forward, a look of cold satisfaction on her face. "You thought you could escape your lessons, didn't you? You will learn obedience, one way or another."

As Ciara struggled to keep her eyes open, she saw a man step forward, joining Mother Superior. Her heart raced as she recognized him—one of the guards who had tormented her at St. Catherine's.

"No," she murmured, trying to resist the encroaching darkness. She attempted to move, to escape, but her body felt like lead.

Her legs buckled beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, the room spinning around her.

The last thing she saw was the triumphant expressions on her parents' faces and the cruel, satisfied look of Mother Superior.

Then, everything went black.

Jonathan wasn't expecting any letters, especially not at that late hour. However, when Winston brought it to him, Jonathan knew it could not be good news. Good news was not delivered in darkness.

He recognized Ciara's handwriting immediately. With a sigh, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. As he read her words, his expression darkened. She was staying with her parents for a while and wanted her things sent over. The implication was clear: she was leaving him, perhaps for good. She had written that the time apart would be beneficial for them, but he knew better than to believe such lies.

His initial reaction was a mix of disbelief and anger. He had been distant, yes, but he never expected her to take such a drastic step. He crumpled the letter in his fist, the parchment crackling under the pressure.

"Damn it," he muttered, his frustration boiling over.

He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back, and crossed the room to the fireplace. With a swift, furious motion, he tossed the letter into the flames. The paper caught fire quickly, curling and blackening as it was consumed.

Their relationship was a lost cause; he should have known that from the beginning. What had he expected? That a woman like Ciara, vibrant and full of life, would find happiness with a man like himself?

He clenched his jaw, watching the last remnants of the letter turn to ash.