Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Aurelia gawked at Mr. Arnold in confusion and no little alarm.
Marry the Duke of Ravenhall?
She could almost have believed in an offer of being his mistress; after all, Lord Redwood had done his best to put his hands on her, and if news of that had gotten around, perhaps other lords might have thought her worthy of their grand attentions.
But marriage?
“Er—I see you are shocked,” Mr. Arnold said gently, his offered hand faltering only just a little. “Come with me, and I will take you to my office where we can discuss the matter in greater detail. I also have correspondence from the duke confirming his wishes.”
“He wishes to marry me?” Her voice ended in a squeak.
“He does.”
“But—why?”
“He has his own reasons. Suffice to say, he is in need of a wife, and one for whom courting Society’s notice has no particular allure.”
“But why—”
“If you feel as though you could become his wife and provide him with an heir, then I can make the arrangements for a wedding to take place. In the meantime, of course, the duke would provide for your accommodation and everything else you require.”
Aurelia’s jaw hung wide.
It was as though an angel had fallen from the heavens and handed her everything she ever could have wanted, but she didn’t know how to trust in her mysterious benefactor.
He wanted her to be a duchess? The idea made no sense when there were plenty of other, far more eligible ladies in London.
Aurelia wavered only a heartbeat before finally accepting Mr. Arnold’s offered hand. Whatever this was, running from it would hardly improve matters.
He helped her into the carriage with brisk, professional ease, and the moment she settled onto the seat, they lurched forward.
London blurred past the window, and with each turn of the wheels, she felt the odd, breathless sense that her life had stepped onto a path she had never planned—and couldn’t quite step off again.
“Ah,” Mr. Arnold piped suddenly. “Here we are.” The carriage came to a stop beside a smart building, a sign hanging from it. “If you come with me, Miss Dufort, then we can get everything sorted in a jiffy. That is, assuming you agree to the proposal and the conditions attached.”
“Conditions?” Aurelia shivered as she stepped into the cool spring air. Although the days had warmed with the sun, the nights were still cold, and evening fell quickly. Already, the sky was becoming obscured with thick, navy clouds. “And what happens to me if I refuse?”
“Why, nothing.” The solicitor gave her a kindly smile as he opened the door, ushering her inside.
The entryway was narrow, but it opened out into what appeared to be a small saloon and an office affixed with a brass plaque titled Arnold.
“In here, my dear. I know this must have come as quite a shock.”
Aurelia clutched her carpet bag to her side as she sat upon the seat offered and looked around.
Mr. Arnold’s study looked like any other, with a bookshelf filled with large tomes and a collection of folders.
His walnut desk dominated the space, and he sat on the other side of it, gesturing to the letter she still held in one hand.
“For your peace of mind, I recommend opening that,” he pointed out.
“As you can see, it is a letter from the gentleman himself, outlining his intentions and verifying that his interest in this arrangement is legitimate. If, after reading that, you wish to proceed, there are a few things I would like to clarify and establish before the wedding takes place.”
It was a good thing Aurelia was sitting down, or her legs might have given way underneath her. With shaking fingers, she broke the seal and spread the paper.
Miss Dufort, the note ran.
I have been made aware that your circumstances may benefit from an advancement, which I would be pleased to offer in the form of my hand in marriage.
If you are amenable, I would be eager to bring about this union as soon as possible.
Mr. Arnold holds the details; I hope you will give this offer some consideration.
With regards,
Sebastian Hale, His Grace the Duke of Ravenhall
Aurelia blinked slowly. The letter came in and out of focus. With the duke’s own seal and words behind the offer, she could hardly dismiss it out of hand as being erroneous—yet what was he doing applying for her hand in marriage in this way?
What was he doing applying for her hand in marriage at all, in fact?
“He knows my circumstances are… less than ideal?” she asked numbly.
“Of course! He could not have known you were dismissed—I discovered that fact by chance today when I came to speak with you. But he knows in general of your situation. You see, I made him aware. It is my job and duty to know what occurs in London, and I take my duty seriously.”
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. “So you knew that I was the Duchess of Fenwick’s companion?”
“I did.”
“And, knowing that, you proposed the match to the duke?”
“I did.” He beamed with a ceremonious sort of pride and reached across the table to pat her hand.
“The duke has his requirements, and I believe you will suit them well enough. And, if I may say so, I believe that your situation means you will be amenable to the match, even under these unusual circumstances.”
In other words, he knew she was desperate.
And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? As bizarre as this situation was, she had no choice. If she didn’t agree, this same smiling man would gladly turn her out on the streets for another candidate, and she would be left to find her own way.
It was that or become the Duchess of Ravenhall.
How was that, really, a choice?
“If I accept…” she began slowly, “what would happen next?”
“Next, I would arrange for you to stay at a hotel with a maid. Grillon’s, perhaps, as would be befitting a duchess. You would have wedding clothes made up, a new wardrobe commissioned—all at the duke’s expense, of course—and the wedding would take place in a few days.”
“Days?”
“With your consent, there is nothing to do but make the necessary arrangements.”
“Of course,” she murmured. What else was there to delay for? “And the… duke is amenable to marrying me, without ever having met me?”
“If he were not, he would not have agreed to this arrangement at all.” Mr. Arnold shuffled his papers and drew out a single sheet.
There, printed neatly, was a contract. “You will sign this, agreeing to remain at the hotel and proceed with the marriage, and to tell no one about the unconventional method of your meeting and arrangement.” He tapped a space at the bottom for her signature.
“You will not gossip. You will not betray his trust in any manner.”
Aurelia barely hesitated before signing the agreement. She would have a place to stay that she had not paid for. And what did it matter if the duke was, most likely, old with crooked teeth and bad breath? When a lady was out of options, she accepted even those that seemed unpalatable.
Her husband might be a tyrant, but he would offer her safety and security, two things that had been lacking since her uncle had died.
“There,” she said, putting down the pen with an oddly final clack. “I have agreed.”
Mr. Arnold smiled once more. “Then we may begin.”
Sebastian Hale, the Duke of Ravenhall, stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of his study window at the gale twisting the trees below.
In the distance, the angry sea lashed at the cliffs.
The weather reflected his mood, although what little reflected of his face in the glass did not show it.
He was not a man given to freely expressing his emotions.
Salt air seeped through the window frame. It always did, no matter how many times they replaced the seal. The sea was claiming Ravenhall stone by stone.
A knock came behind him. He half turned. “Come in.”
“A letter, Your Grace,” Fellows, the butler announced, holding out a letter in an immaculate white glove. “It arrived express.”
With a grunt, Sebastian accepted the letter and ripped it open to reveal its contents. Three words, signed by his solicitor’s hand.
It is done.
Well then. She had agreed, and his life would change. No doubt for the worse, but he required an heir, and a wife would provide one. After…
Well, after she had done her duty, he could ship her off to one of his other small estates, and they could live separate lives. This Miss Dufort cared little for London Society, Mr. Arnold had assured him; she would be, therefore, content to live out her days far from the capital, and far from him.
“Prepare the bedroom adjoining mine,” he instructed, returning to gazing at the sea. “It will shortly have a visitor.”
Fellows inclined his head. “Will they be staying long, Your Grace?”
Sebastian gave the matter little thought. “No. No, she will not.”