When the overindulged son of a duke meets a feisty bohemian beauty, two opposite worlds collide. But it doesn't matter how ill-suited they are for one another, Aiden and Amalia can't prevent their feelings from growing.
• • •
England, 1790.
Aiden La...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Symphony No. 8 in C minor: III. Presto assai, by William Herschel
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It took a few seconds for the footman's words to make sense. As soon as they processed them, Aiden's face turned white while Amalia panicked. Her brain actively worked on finding a way to get out of this situation. Her safest solution was to walk to the woods and go around the manor so no one would see her.
"What is this madness?" Aiden asked. He had regained his composure and was looking at the poor man as if this was some bad joke. "Why are they here?"
The servant looked embarrassed, and his voice was uneven when he answered. "Milord, the duchess mentioned she sent you a letter, explaining they were coming for a week, before returning to London."
After a moment of confusion, probably wondering how he could miss such an important detail, Aiden grimaced and turned to Amalia. Just like her, he was lost, uncertain what they could do. She watched as he thought intently about it for a few seconds, many expressions passing on his face. Just like her, he was lost, uncertain what they could do. Ready to disappear into the woods, she waited for his verdict.
Having reached a conclusion, Aiden sighed. "I guess you are meeting my parents, then."
Her eyes opened wide, utterly shocked by his words. She hadn't expected this outcome. Not even for a second. Had the sun made him delirious? Did he really think she'd agree to meet them?
She looked down at her modest yellow dress, her loosely tied hair flowing over her shoulders and back, and her muddy shoes... There was no way she'd meet them like this. Regardless of her attire, actually, she wouldn't meet Aiden's parents. A duke and a duchess? They'd throw her out without a second thought, shaming her for daring to even appear in their presence.
She was about to protest when Aiden put his hand on the small of her back, adamantly pushing her in the direction of the house.
They walked side by side, with the footman following them closely. Shock was still clouding her mind, preventing her from thinking straight. She didn't want to meet them. They were some of the most important people in England, and she was just a bohemian, hired by their son to keep him company. They would immediately assume she was a whore, and she couldn't bear the idea of people looking at her like that. Especially not his relatives.
