Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Hazel!” her father called the moment she stepped into the breakfast room the following morning. “Excellent timing. Sit. We have news.”
Hazel stopped mid-stride. Her parents rarely noticed her, much less greeted her with any sort of fervor. A prickle of dread climbed her spine.
Her mother stood abruptly from her chair. “Oh, my darling girl, finally! Come here!”
Hazel blinked as her mother seized her hand and ushered her toward the table like a prized exhibit.
“Mama,” Hazel began carefully, “is something—”
“Something?” her mother interrupted breathlessly. “Something? Your father has nearly burned through his quill from excitement!”
Her father gave a dignified sniff. “I have done no such thing.”
“You were trembling,” her mother countered.
“I was cold.”
Hazel sank into her seat, dazed. The tangle of her mess couldn’t have started unraveling yet… could it?
“Would someone please explain what is happening?”
Her father cleared his throat, folded his hands, and announced like a judge declaring a sentence. “The Duke of Callbury has delivered a request for your hand.”
Hazel’s stomach dropped to her knees.
“And I am in the process of sending back the confirmation of your betrothal,” her father continued.
Hazel shot to her feet. “Already?!”
Her mother clapped her hands together with delight. “Oh, Hazel, my Hazel! A duchess! Imagine it!”
Hazel tried to breathe. “Papa, wait, you haven’t even spoken to me—”
“There is nothing to discuss,” he said, waving a hand. “It is an excellent match.”
“Exceptional,” her mother echoed eagerly. “Your sisters’ futures will improve by association alone!”
Hazel opened her mouth, possibly to argue and quite possibly to faint, but at that moment, Chastity and Patience burst into the room.
“So, it is official?” Chastity squealed.
“You are engaged?” Patience was practically dancing in place.
Hazel pinched the bridge of her nose. “No one is engaged yet.”
“Oh, but you are,” her mother corrected, patting Hazel’s cheek. “Your father is sending the letter back this very moment. Now, sit, sit. I want to hear everything!”
Hazel stared. Her mother had never asked to hear everything, not when Hazel debuted, not when she won the charity garden prize, not at any point while she managed to keep her sisters alive through adolescence. But now, she was glowing with excitement, hanging on Hazel’s every breath.
Hazel inhaled slowly. “Very well. But you should know there is a… complication.”
Her parents leaned forward. Her sisters froze.
Hazel continued, “The reason all of this happened was… there was a bet. A foolish dare among the young ladies. They meant to sneak into his bedchamber.” She shot her sisters a hard look. “Which Chastity and Patience attempted to join.”
“Mama, it wasn’t—” Patience began, but Hazel silenced her with a glare.
“But I,” Hazel explained, “went to stop them. I succeeded, but was unfortunately seen leaving the duke’s chambers at the exact wrong moment.”
Her mother gasped theatrically, with her hand to her chest. Hazel braced herself for scolding, or fainting, or horror. Instead, her mother beamed.
“Oh, Hazel, how inelegantly romantic! It is not a scandal. Why, it is fate!”
Hazel gaped. “Fate?”
“Yes!” her mother declared. “You were found exactly where the fates needed you to be. And now you will marry a duke. A duke, Hazel! Do you understand what this means? Our family, our standing… oh, heavens, I must fetch my old engagement gown to see if it still fits!”
Her father nodded approvingly. “A fortunate outcome after all.”
Hazel slumped into her chair, staring at her plate as if it could offer escape.
Chastity whispered to Patience. “Mama doesn’t seem angry.”
Patience whispered back. “Mama seems… thrilled.”
Hazel closed her eyes. She had foolishly hoped that revealing their part in the mess might earn her some sympathy. Instead, her mother looked ready to redecorate the house in celebration.
Her father folded his newspaper and gave her a firm nod of approval. “I must say, Hazel, I am proud of you.”
She blinked. “Proud…? Papa, I was seen leaving a man’s bedroom. This is not an accomplishment.”
He waved this aside. “And yet look at the result. Exceptional, really.”
Her jaw dropped. “Papa, I barely know the man.”
“And yet,” he said calmly, “you have always been a good judge of character. I trust your instincts.”
Hazel nearly choked on nothing at all. “My… my instincts? Papa, I have spoken to him for a combined total of six minutes. And four of those were me attempting to leave.”
Her mother took Hazel’s hand again. “Oh, sweetheart, do stop worrying. Your father and I met twice before our betrothal, and look at us, thirty years and perfectly content.”
Hazel stared. “Mama, you and Papa barely speak at breakfast.”
“Well,” her mother sniffed, “contentment comes in many forms.”
Her father nodded sagely. “Besides, the Duke of Callbury is a highly respectable man. Impeccable reputation. A solid lineage. Excellent estate management. Never one whisper of impropriety.”
Hazel muttered, “Except now.”
Her father ignored that entirely. “You could not have chosen better.”
Hazel groaned into her teacup. “I did not choose him.”
“Semantics, dear,” her mother said brightly.
Hazel drew a breath, determined not to give up yet. “Very well. But there are other considerations. For example, compatibility. What if we do not get along?”
Her mother laughed as if Hazel were reciting a joke. “Oh, Hazel, getting along is not necessary for a good marriage. Respect is enough.”
“I’m not certain we have that either,” Hazel muttered.
Her father lifted a brow. “Nonsense. If the man has proposed, he clearly respects you.”
Hazel felt a hysterical sound climb her throat and forced it back down. “Papa, what if he is… difficult?”
“He’s a duke,” her father replied, as if this solved everything.
“It comes with the position,” her mother agreed.
Hazel tried another angle. “What if I am difficult?”
Chastity and Patience exchanged glances, ones entirely too knowing.
Her father lifted his cup. “Then I pray for the man’s fortitude. But it changes nothing.”
Hazel felt her patience unravel thread by thread. “What if this match simply does not make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense,” her mother declared, patting Hazel’s cheek. “He needs a duchess, you need a husband, your sisters need the elevation. Everyone benefits.”
Hazel opened her mouth.
Her father cut her off. “Hazel, really. This is the most logical arrangement that has ever presented itself to this family. We are thrilled. Utterly thrilled.”
Her mother nodded emphatically. “A duke, Hazel! A duke!”
Hazel slumped back in her chair, feeling the crushing inevitability of her fate settle over her like a wool blanket.
“Hazel, dear… please tell us you are joking.”
Evelyn Firming, ever so elegant, composed and usually impossible to rattle, was staring at Hazel as though she had announced she planned to join the navy.
Cordelia Abernathy’s teacup hung frozen halfway to her lips.
Matilda Everleigh had not even attempted to pour her tea.
Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, and her calm brown eyes wide with disbelief.
Hazel was seated on the settee surrounded by her friends, but she felt terribly, painfully alone.
“It is no joke,” Hazel confessed. “The Duke of Callbury has proposed. My parents have already accepted.”
The drawing room was so silent that Hazel could hear the mantel clock ticking.
Cordelia set down her teacup very slowly, as if afraid a sudden motion might trigger an explosion.
“Hazel Thorne,” she whispered, “you were seen leaving the Duke of Callbury’s bedchamber. And now you are engaged to him. And your parents are… pleased?”
“Thrilled,” Hazel corrected bitterly.
Matilda blinked. “Thrilled.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “And you?”
Hazel let out a long, exhausted breath. “I suppose that scarcely matters.”
All three of her friends sat up straighter at that. Hazel stared at the untouched tea before her, the steam already fading. None of them had taken a sip. None of them seemed capable of it.
She continued quietly, “If I were anyone else, anyone whose parents cared about her desires, perhaps things would be different. But to my mother and father, this is miraculous. A duke. A title. The elevation of our family. The improved prospects for my sisters.”
Cordelia’s eyes softened. “But what about your happiness?”
Hazel laughed, a small, humorless sound. “Cordelia, my happiness has never been a priority in my home.”
The words came out more sharply than she intended, but she didn’t take them back. Her friends’ hearts broke a little in the silence that followed.
Hazel rubbed her temples, feeling the ache settling deep behind her eyes.
“I foolishly hoped that they might be outraged for me, outraged that I was trapped in a scandal through no fault of my own, outraged that I am now being marched toward a life I never asked for. But… no. They see only the advantage.”
Matilda reached out and took Hazel’s hand. Her touch was warm. “Hazel… I am outraged for you.”
Cordelia scooted closer, looping her arm through Hazel’s. “Utterly outraged. Scandalously so. I could throw something against the wall if you’d like.”
Evelyn rested her hand on Hazel’s knee. “And I,” she said quietly, “am here for you. Whatever you decide and whatever you need.”
Hazel’s throat tightened. She had spent the entire morning suffocating under her parents’ excitement and her sisters’ awe, feeling the weight of expectation settling like chains around her wrists. But here with her friends, she could breathe again.
Hazel leaned back against the cushions. “I do wish it would stop,” she whispered. “I wish someone, not just you, but someone who could change things, would stop this. Just say no. Just say… Hazel does not want this.”
Cordelia pressed her forehead to Hazel’s shoulder. “Oh, darling, if I could storm your parents’ house and demand they listen to you, I would.”
Matilda squeezed Hazel’s hand. “It is unfair… deeply unfair.”
Evelyn nodded with sympathy. “But unfairness does not make you powerless, Hazel.”
Hazel swallowed hard. “It does if every person in my family is committed to ignoring me.”
The tea remained untouched. She felt as if her world was falling apart.
“Hazel,” Matilda pointed out gently, “you know Jasper considers Greyson a close friend.”
Hazel closed her eyes. “Yes, I am aware.”
“Which means,” Matilda continued, undeterred, “that I have known the Duke of Callbury for some time now.”
Hazel opened one skeptical eye.
Matilda smiled faintly. “I know what you are thinking. He is cold. Intimidating. A little… rigid.”
“A little?” Hazel muttered.
Cordelia coughed. “He does have the personality of a library statue.”
Evelyn elbowed her.
Matilda continued. “Underneath all that, Hazel, he is a decent man.”
Hazel’s lips pressed into a line. “Decent?” she repeated. “He offered marriage as if he were offering me… a coat. A spare coat he keeps for emergencies.”
Cordelia snorted. “I’d wager his spare coats get more enthusiasm.”
Matilda hid a smile, then grew serious again. “He is not… expressive. That much is true. But he is honorable. Jasper always said Greyson does precisely what he promises, no more, no less. And when he gives his word, he keeps it.”
Hazel shifted uncomfortably. “His word was a marriage of convenience. Which I suppose is… something.”
“It is more than something,” Matilda insisted softly. “It is clarity. He does not pretend affection. He does not give false hope. He means exactly what he says.”
Hazel looked down at her hands. “And what he said was that he is indifferent.”
“Indifference,” Matilda said gently, “is safer than deception. Better than a man who promises devotion he does not have. Better than one who demands what you are not ready to give.”
Hazel swallowed.
Matilda reached out again. “Greyson does not want anything from you that you cannot give. He does not want romance. He does not expect affection. He is not a man who will press you, or demand sentiment, or entangle your heart against your will.”
Hazel’s breath caught.
Matilda finished softly. “He asked you for convenience because that is truly all he wants.”
Hazel was still not convinced, but Matilda’s words settled over her like a soft blanket. “So you are saying he will not expect… more.”
“No,” Matilda assured her.
Hazel nodded slowly, unsure how that made her feel: relieved or trapped in a new, unfamiliar way. But at least her friends were here. At least someone was trying to see her, not the title she would marry into. Hazel let herself lean into them, just a little.
For the first time all day, she felt a thin sliver of steadiness return. Even if the ground beneath her life had shifted, her friends had not.