Anyone would agree that to be employed by one of the richest families in Wickhurst was a much desired opportunity, most exceedingly so if the said family were the Everards.

The family came not from humble beginnings. They were born into privilege, or rather, came down with it. Their confusing family history would say that they were among the first to arrive with the Founders to put up the Town centuries ago.

Apart from countless titles and estates, the Everards also owned the mines outside Wickhurst, and their exquisite jewelry line adorned many of the Town's elites. Their wealth and status were a birthright meticulously preserved for centuries. Their name invoked a dream of riches and splendor. Everyone wanted to be friends with them and everyone wanted to sire their heirs.

But the present Everard line was on the brink of slow death. The children, all eight of them, seemed to be in no hurry to give their living mother, Lady Alice Everard, a grandchild. And worse, the children believed that the future of the governess was far more important than finding their own prospects.

"You are both coming out this season. You will no longer need Agatha," Lady Alice said.

The two youngest Everard children, Emma and Ysabella, snapped their heads at their mother, eyes wide with horror. "But, Mother!" they chorused. "Agatha has merely been with us for a year and seven months!" cried Emma.

"She barely taught us anything thus far!" Ysabella added.

"You've learned enough from the many years and the many governesses who came and went. You will both do well if you stop acting like children," their mother said with ease and calmness, as though her two daughters' latest mischief did not cost her a carriage, its wheel, and one missing horse.

Agatha remained silent in one corner, her lips curving into a hidden smile. She would not have had wanted to be referred to as a governess. Governesses were typically ladies born into the gentry who found themselves in need of earning money. Agatha needed money, but she was no gentry. She was but a mere servant until her former mistress, Mary Haverston, taught her how to read and provided her with tutors to help her pursue a higher education.

She preferred to be called a tutor rather than a governess, and she knew the Everards were very much aware of that as well. She rarely gave her wards lessons on proper etiquette or decorum, because if they put their heart into it, they were better at it than her. Her expertise lay on arithmetic and science, but the twins, although with great potential, showed little interest in the subjects. In fact, they liked stories more—romance, specifically.

Emma and Ysabella Everard were not really twins. They were born merely nine months apart, with Emma being the younger of the two. Born premature, everyone thought she wouldn't survive. But alas, the ever adventurous and witty Emma thrived and soon started causing havoc alongside her older sister, Ysabella.

Everyone referred to them as twins, and they seemed not to mind. Both had black hair and emerald eyes as all Everard children, but Emma had a slimmer face while Ysabella's was fuller around the edges.

"The two of you need to find a husband by your second or third season," Lady Alice's voice was saying, drawing Agatha's attention back inside the large Everard parlor.

"She needs to find a husband first," Ysabella pointedly said, gesturing towards their eldest sister, Margaret, who had been sitting quietly in a chair with a book in hand.

Margaret, like Agatha, was past the marrying age at twenty-seven. Agatha had always wondered why the woman showed no interest in marriage. It wasn't as though she lacked suitors because the fifth Everard sibling was among the sought-after in Wickhurst. With the signature Everard look of black hair and emerald eyes, her delicate nose and radiant skin added a touch of perfection to her beauty. But it was her brilliant mind that amazed Agatha the most. Margaret could have had anyone she wished to marry.

"I don't think I'm—" Margaret started, but Emma interjected, saying, "We need not marry, really," rolling her eyes. "If we were to have children, they would not have the Everard name. So, really, why bother? We have the brothers to sire as many heirs for the titles we will never inherit."

"Well, unlike you and Maggie, I intend to marry. But I agree that now is not the time," Ysabella told Emma, rising from her seat. "Which is why there is still a need for Agatha."

"She can be my lady companion," Margaret suggested, eyes suddenly alight with excitement. "Agatha, would you like to be my companion?"

"She will be our companion if she opts to be a companion, Maggie," Emma argued.

Agatha cleared her throat to break her silence. "I concur that my services as a governess are no longer necessary for either of you," she addressed the twins.

The twins started to protest, but Agatha calmly continued, saying, "You are both seventeen and are to make your debut this Granville Season."

"I'll perish this season, I swear," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "If not from sheer boredom, then certainly from the absurd high necklines."

"Agatha will be the perfect companion for our first season," Ysabella chimed in.

"I do not believe there is a role for me here—"

"As I've said, you can be my companion," Margaret insisted.

"You are practically on the shelf, Maggie," droned Emma. "You don't need one."

Lady Alice sighed heavily. "We have completely jumped off from our previous conversation. We were discussing the eligible bachelors of Wickhurst before these two deliberately steered us astray." She narrowed her eyes at the twins. "And you both need a husband."

"A husband? For the both of us? And we are to share him? Mother, surely there are enough gentlemen around the Town!" Ysabella exclaimed with feigned horror.

"That is not what I meant!" Lady Alice's shrilling voice made everyone wince as she fanned herself with her hand. "You children are killing me."

"I believe murder is the least of our priorities—"

"Emma," Agatha cautioned, shaking her head. The girl closed her mouth and huffed. "I hope to find a new employment before this season ends."

"Agatha and I have already discussed her plans," Lady Alice said over their moans. "There is nothing you can do."

"Nothing you can do on what?" a voice asked from the doorway. All heads turned in unison. "What's going on?"

With his piercing green eyes and a raised eyebrow cocked high in question, Benedict Everard surveyed the room. His gaze briefly brushed over Agatha before swiftly redirecting his attention to his mother and sisters.

"Benedict!" Ysabella exclaimed.

"Did you just arrive?" Lady Alice asked.

"Yes. Apparently, your sons left a significant amount of unfinished work before disappearing for their hunting trip."

"But you do all your work in Devonshire," Margaret said, confused.

"I thought you were not coming home until after the holidays?" Emma added with a frown.

"I have other important matters to deal with in Wickhurst," he said dismissively. "No one answered my question."

"It's nothing. We're discussing the lack of wives in this family," Margaret smoothly lied.

"I don't know about the others, but I am to be married—hopefully soon," Benedict said, his rectangular jaw rigid as always, the white scars on his face—two long ones on the right, and another on the left, were almost translucent under the light of the parlor.

His thick brows were slightly raised, as if expecting his family to laugh at his statement. However, no one did. They were still considering whether or not he was jesting.

Agatha was among them. In the nineteen months she had been with the Everards, she only saw Benedict Everard on very few occasions. Since he spent most of his time in his Devonshire estate, and only came to Wickhurst now and then to check on the family or deal with business matters, Agatha could count on one hand the times he attempted humor. Regrettably, none of those moments elicited spontaneous laughter or amusement.

As the eldest of the Everard children, and the master of the house, Benedict Everard, Lord of Devonshire, was regarded by almost everyone—including not family, but most especially the family—as too boring and dry. His scarred face, which was always set too stern, did little to improve people's perceptions of him, nor did he try to change their opinions. Benedict Everard was not one to engage in idle chatter, often preferring silence over conversation.

She could, once again, count on her fingers the times he had turned and threw a question her way whenever they were in the same room. And all inquiries were always about his sisters. One could practically say they were strangers. He knew nothing about her, and she had somehow made the impression that she had no interest in knowing more about him, even though everything about Benedict Everard piqued her curiosity.

For one, the origin of his scars, a subject never discussed within the household, was a great mystery to her. Agatha also sometimes wondered how he could navigate an entire day without uttering a single word. Sometimes, just like today, she would not even realize he had come home to Wickhurst until he had left.

Perhaps one of the many reasons Benedict Everard was never deemed charming was the fact that he never tried to be. His presence commanded attention without him needing to raise his voice; his words, if ever he spoke, could be cutting. In the few times she stayed in the same room as him, he rarely tolerated incompetence, foolishness, and ignorance, and nothing irked him more than when others failed to grasp what he was talking about.

He was the only one in his family who took matters with utmost gravity because his brothers were no different from the rest. It was Benedict Everard whom his family regarded with a mixture of respect and trepidation, his mother most certainly included. A mere gesture of his hand could silence everyone, and one glance could render the twins quiet for hours.

Agatha heard one servant say that he had been the Lord of Devonshire for so long that it may have hardened him like the jewels they mined. He had assumed all responsibilities when their father passed away, and he had taken them too seriously. She had heard Lady Alice lament the same thing countless times.

"What do you mean you're getting married?" It was Lady Alice who finally broke the silence.

Agatha watched his face intently, desperately searching for any hint of what he was thinking or feeling, but to no avail. He was a hard man to read.

"I've asked for Lady Frances Highmore's hand. I'm still waiting, but I'm hopeful she and her family will accept." It was the casual manner in which he delivered the news that made it difficult for everyone to believe. Yet, it was also the name he mentioned that made everyone gasp in surprise.

Agatha saw Benedict's face twitch, a subtle hint of a smile. "They're joining us for dinner three days from now, and I expect nothing but the best behavior." His eyes scanned the room, once more hovering over Agatha for a mere second before veering away. "That's all," he said to the gaping ladies. Before walking out of the parlor, he added, "I will be working in my study and would appreciate no disturbance."

Benedict was gone in a flash, just like always. Agatha blinked a few times, unsure of what she had witnessed, or if he had been there at all.

"Did we all hear the same thing?" It was Emma who finally broke the silence. "Ysa, tell me what you heard Benedict say."

"He asked for Lady Frances Highmore's hand in marriage. And they're going to dine with us."

Then all hell broke loose.

"Oh, goodness gracious! It must be true! It must be true!" Lady Alice came to her feet and hurried out the door, followed by Margaret and then the twins. "Benedict!" Lady Alice's voice faded as she and her daughters chased after Benedict.

Left alone, Agatha forced her practiced smile while the gleeful voices of the Everard ladies erupted from somewhere above.

Benedict Everard? Married? Agatha was bewildered. He had always opposed the idea, and no one had dared force him into it.

"A Highmore!" Lady Alice's voice echoed from somewhere.

"But they're blonds!" Emma or Ysabella whined. "Isn't she too thin?" Emma or Ysabella added.

"Are you certain they'll accept? They're not fond of us," Margaret asked.

Agatha heard of the rumors that the Highmores were one of the very few who didn't like the Everards. It was whispered around that at one point, Lord Highmore accused the Everards of going after his ruby mines. Gossip also said that Lady Highmore had warned her friends to keep their daughters away from the wicked Everard brothers.

"Oh, be quiet, you three," Lady Alice said. "Dear Frances is nothing like her parents."

Agatha swallowed the uncomfortable feeling brewing inside her. She blinked a few times before attempting to stand up, but found herself unable to move.

She scoffed in disbelief.

Benedict Everard, the beast, was getting married?