Ashley blinked, wrestling with this fantastic concept, but Madi giggled. "Will you see her tonight, then?" she suggested.
"Tomorrow morning," Celian promised.
Madi squealed and threw her arms around him. "I'm glad you don't have to be afraid anymore," she whispered.
Celian smiled. "It was your words that did it." He chuckled nervously. "It still remains to be seen whether this Leonie can win the heart of his princess."
Madi walked alongside him back to the cottage. "For what it's worth, I believe he can," she declared stoutly.
Dr. Grove placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "All right, I think that's enough excitement for one evening. To bed with you, young lady!" he gave the command with a cheerful tone.
Once Madi skipped out of the room and up the stairs, Ashley turned to look up at Celian. "If you like, I can take you over to the house after morning tea tomorrow."
Celian shook his head. "Thank you, but I believe I would rather walk. The distance is not far." He wrung his long hands in an attempt to quiet the sudden rush of nerves. "There is still a chance she won't see me--and the truth I have to tell her will not be easy to hear." His face grew somber in the firelight as he thought of that fateful night--but it was for the best. The family needed to know.
Ashley Grove well remembered how he had first reacted upon seeing Celian in his Leonie form, and then human. "Understood," replied the doctor. "Good night, then. Best of luck tomorrow."
Celian smiled. "Thank you, sir."
Chapter 13
Lord and Lady Dalton remained at a loss for what to do with their daughter Agatha. That she had taken it upon herself to sneak out of the house before anyone else was awake in order to avoid tea with the Martins was hardly a surprise. That Thomas had also absconded was slightly more troubling, but nothing out of the ordinary.
However, Thomas had returned mid afternoon, absolutely angry, covered in sand and dirt, and he refused to speak to anyone. The Martins begged their leave after a time, but it was still some hours before Agatha returned, soaking wet and sobbing brokenly. She went straight to her room, locked the door, and refused to admit anyone except Pearl to bring her meals.
The morning brought little change. Thomas was still sulky and wouldn't look anyone in the eye, yelling and grumbling at Charlie. Agatha emerged only briefly, her face pale and drawn, and she still said not a word before retreating into her room again.
The Lord and Lady could only watch the strange way their children were acting, and wonder how long this discomfort would last.
Agatha had just wandered silently into the library when a knock at the door broke the silence. Mason answered it.
On the front step was a very tall young man with sleek dark hair. He wore a nice grey suit, and fiddled nervously with his pockets.
Mason squinted up at him. "Can I help you?"
The man coughed. "Ahem! Is Miss Agatha Dalton at home?"
Mason balked. There had been several young men allowed to court Miss Agatha, in the hopes that one of them might win her affections—but this man had never visited before, and if he was a new arrival, how did he know Agatha?
The click of heels and the swish of fabric behind him caused Mason to abdicate his place at the door. Lady Dalton swept in.
"Who are you," she demanded, squinting up at his unfamiliar face, "and what do you want with my daughter?"
The stranger dipped his head. "Good morning, madam; my name is Celian... Grove," he paused a bit before the surname, "and I wish to speak with Miss Agatha. May I see her, please?"
Lady Dalton sniffed. "Grove, you say? I've never known any family by that name." She turned her keen gaze on him, and Celian saw the same brilliant eyes as Agatha had.
"I don't like repeating myself," Her Ladyship continued, "but I must know what business my daughter has with a stranger like you!"
She wasn't tall; she had to tilt her head up to look at him, in a manner he was accustomed to by now. But there was a regality about her, a bearing that told Celian he wouldn't be getting past her easily. He recalled what Madi had said about telling the truth.
"Madam," he replied. "I am no stranger to your daughter; in fact, I—"
"Celian?"
Agatha's voice carried to him, and he stopped mid-sentence. He could not see her, but the mother (he wasn't quite sure what title mothers used) looked over her shoulder.
"Agatha, dear, do you know this man?"
She stepped back, and at last, Celian beheld the young woman who had turned him away so abruptly the day before. Their eyes met, but hers were cold, empty, and distant.
"I know him," she said, her mouth a guarded frown. "Why are you here?"
Celian took a hesitant step forward. "Miss Agatha, I wanted to apologize—"
He stopped as Agatha's mother stepped between them, still holding the door, ready to shut it in his face.
"Mother, wait!" Agatha cried. "Let him in."
"Darling," the mother said, "look at you; you're hardly presentable, and I dare say this man is the reason you've been so miserable! Perhaps it's better if—"
"Let him in, Mother," Agatha repeated. "I will listen to what he has to say. Mason," she addressed the man who had answered the door, "see him into the sitting room, and see that we are not disturbed."
"Yes, Miss Agatha," said the man.
Agatha's mother opened the door, this time standing out of Celian's way. The serving-man bowed and gestured down the hallway. "If you would follow me, sir," he said.
Celian complied, striding down the hall after the servant. He entered a room not unlike
