I'd been sifting through correspondences, invoices, and ledgers for over a week now and it seemed as if my desk was just as crowded as it had been when I'd returned home from my time in the country to resume my business. Still, no matter the amount of work, my mind strayed from it often enough. Away from the facts and figures and pressure of running a dukedom and toward an auburn-haired young woman a day's ride away.

"You're still staring at those confounded documents?" A familiar voice bellowed. I sighed and tried to keep my composure despite my annoyance as I looked up to see that Edward had entered my office.

"Can I help you, uncle?" I asked as placidly as I could, rounding my desk to take a seat behind it, bent over another letter from a local lord that I'd been meaning to respond to.

"I hope so. I was wondering when you were planning your Homecoming ball for."

"My what?"

"Your Homecoming ball," his uncle answered, blinking back at him. "My God, man, have some pageantry. Word's already gotten around that you've returned. Your people will expect to be given an opportunity to welcome you home."

"I have no need of their welcome," I replied, turning back to my letter and hoping that was the end of this ludicrous conversation. Of course, it wasn't.

"That may be. But they need to welcome you. It's part of being a leader, the life of a Duke. Your father used to hold them all the time whenever he returned from a long trip away."

"Father was never fleeing scandal," I snapped, the irritation now clear in my tone. Edward just cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze.

"No Homecoming ball," he tsked. "Well, that news won't be well received by the nobility. No, not at all.

"I don't quite care what the nobility thinks."

"Come now. Don't be so sour. She was one girl," Edward started and my gaze snapped to him. My jaw tensed. He had learned not to test me in this area. Or so I had thought. "There's thousands of others. In this city alone, I imagine. What about that girl you used to always run around with here? Georgina? Gisella?"

"Gwendolyn," I growled. "You know it's Gwendolyn."

"Ah, right, that was it."

Edward was grinning like mad, pleased, as always, to have reminded me of a time in my past that I would rather forget. Having stirred the pot to his liking, he took his leave, and I found it even more impossible than before to focus on my work.

That's when I looked at the clock. I was late.

I stood from my desk and made my way through the labyrinth halls of my ancestral estate. Servants at every corner bowed as I passed but not one of them spoke. They wouldn't dare do so unless I addressed them first. That was one of the things I had always hated about living here. You were always surrounded by people but never more alone.

She was already waiting in the dining room, hands folded elegantly upon her lap, head held high as she watched my entrance. Two servants stood on either side of the room, ready to attend us should we need them to, but not a sound was heard in the dining room. She examined me as I sat at the opposite end of the table from her. It was ridiculous how far apart we were. Two people sitting to a meal and yet we had twenty feet of table between us. But I supposed that was what this was made for, to be a constant reminder of my failure to continue my family's bloodline and fill these seats.

"You were with Edward," she spoke just as the first course was delivered in front of me. It wasn't a question, not from her, just a simple fact. I dipped my spoon into my soup and looked up.

"Yes," I replied.

"I knew you were. Your disposition is always so... dark after you've spoken with your uncle. Is he to dine with us?"

"I haven't extended the invitation."

"Victor-"

"He isn't immediate family, mother. Therefore, he isn't allowed into the family dining room without my express invitation and, as this is the only room in the house in which he is required to leave me alone, I don't see any rush in extending one."

"He is family, Victor. You cannot chose your family."

"So I've learned."

She cocked her head to the side.

"Something else is bothering you," she noted, intrigued. I said nothing, just ate my soup and heard nothing but the scraping of my spoon against the bowl. My mother sat back in her chair, watching me, swirling the wine around her glass. "Who is she?"

For that, I looked up.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"There's a woman," she replied. She wasn't smiling but she was close. "Men only get this moody over women. Who is she?"

"Mother-"

"I know you, Victor. I've known you better than anyone since the moment I gave birth to you. You cannot lie to me. I've never seen you so flustered, so disheveled, so affected by your uncle. You usually have far more composure than this. You've been stomping around this estate like a pouting child for over a week now. I've had to command the servants to steer clear of you for fear you might finally have your much needed outburst on one of them. Now. Tell me. Who is she?"

I stared back at her for a moment. She only watched me, raising a brow the longer time went on without my answer.

"It doesn't matter," I said, finally.

"Fine," she sighed, setting down her glass and standing. "Don't tell me."

She strode from her seat to mine, leaning down to give me a brief kiss on the cheek and to whisper in my ear.

"But do tell her."