Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“So, let me get this right,” her mother said. “You are to wed the Duke of Stonehelm, within days of your husband’s death.”
The parlor at Kerrington House was packed two days later, and although Sibyl was trying to focus on her family around her, all she could think about was the following day.
Her three days were almost up, and she was still uncertain of her next steps.
“Yes, Mama.” Her voice was flat, sounding as distant as she felt.
“But you do not know when?”
“Within the week, Mama.”
“But when? And what happens after tomorrow?”
“I do not know, Mama.”
“Do you know anything?” her mother snapped, jolting her into focus.
“Mama, do not be so vicious!” Alicia interjected. “If His Grace has promised to take care of things, then I am certain he will.”
“She must have security, Alicia! I am her mother, and mothers worry.”
“Well, you are not worrying. You are pestering.”
“It is fine,” Sibyl interrupted their bickering. “Mama, you are right. I do need security. Your worries are my own as well, but I have taken the option I was given. I am grateful either way.”
“I am just concerned,” her mother said, her voice softening for once. “Not to mention, you ought to observe the mourning period. Return to Wickleby Hall, gather yourself in the countryside, escape the ton even.”
Sibyl’s head spun, for if she disappeared, the chaos Lord Kerrington had threatened would burden her family.
She could not let that happen. She could not pass on that burden to them, even if the idea was tempting.
“His Grace’s proposal would still be there, I am certain,” her mother continued. “But as your mother, I urge you to retire to the country. Our family cannot go through—”
“I know, Mama!” Sibyl cried. “And that is why I must stay, do you not understand?”
“Barbara, Sibyl is not a little girl anymore,” her father spoke up, placing a hand over her mother’s.
“She can make her own choices. The circumstances of her husband’s death were…
questionable; therefore, she must focus on her next steps.
She must consider all her options. However—” He glanced at Sibyl.
“I do partially agree with your mother. There is no reason to rush into another marriage so soon. Why can’t you just come home? ”
“Then again,” Alicia cut in, “when Sibyl returns home, it will be grand! We shall both suffer! How about it, Sibyl? Breakfast times with criticism of the menu, and dinner times that ratchet up the tension, and more suitors to dance with once you come out of mourning.”
“Alicia!”
Despite her mother’s reprimand, Sibyl gave her sister a grateful smile.
“Yes, I am certain moving back home is exactly what Sibyl needs right now,” Alicia finished.
“Which is why I already agreed to His Grace’s proposal,” Sibyl added.
“And that is precisely why we are here,” Hermia’s firm voice came from the doorway.
Sibyl looked up to see Hermia, Charles, Isabella, and Oscar standing in the doorway. While they had been present at Edmund’s funeral earlier, the four of them had slipped out afterward to arrange for her return to Kerrington House.
Sibyl was certain it had to do with keeping Ferdinand away until tomorrow.
“Hermia,” she breathed, relieved at seeing her eldest sister.
Her attention drifted to Isabella next. The two of them were leading happy lives as duchesses, and it was strange to see how much they had matured since their marriages.
Sibyl had always considered them much older than her—mostly because of their endless mocking of her lifestyle when she was younger and their scolding—but their titles made them even more so.
“Sibyl,” Hermia asked, “can we speak to you for a moment?”
Relieved at the chance to escape their parents, Sibyl hurried over to her sisters before the five of them retreated to the drawing room. They took their seats, while Oscar and Charles hovered by the door.
“Sibyl, you should have told us about Edmund sooner,” Hermia began, never one to prevaricate unless it was to tease her husband. “We could have helped with his addiction and your finances.”
“I did not know our finances were so bad,” Sibyl protested.
“I only thought he… I only thought he disappeared often to gamble and drink in private—to avoid my questionings, I suppose. But I had not known about his laudanum addiction. Besides, it is too late now. My life has broken apart right before my eyes.”
Isabella took her head and squeezed it gently.
“I have been there, Sibyl. Hermia and I both have. Marriages that did not go the way they were supposed to. But do listen to us. We fought our way out of those dark places, and I know you can, too. But you must know that you can come to us with anything, anything at all, for we are your sisters. If we cannot support you in times like these, then when can we?”
Sibyl considered her sister’s words. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest, for she really had toughed through so much of this mess alone.
She nodded in agreement. “I am thinking mostly of Rosie’s future,” she murmured. “I need her to have a good life and a good upbringing. I cannot have her raised in this scandal. I made a mistake by marrying Edmund; I see that now. But I did not know at the time.”
“And it does not help that we have the most overbearing mother,” Hermia muttered. “She forced us into many unsavory situations if not to protect ourselves from her meddling.”
“Indeed,” Sibyl sighed, burying her head in her hands. “But now I must focus on putting my daughter first.”
“I understand your duty.”
She raised her head and looked over at Charles, who was leaning against the doorframe.
He was older than when she had first met him, graying at the temples and lines around his eyes.
But back when she had been pink-cheeked and wide-eyed, in awe of the romance she was insistent that her sister have, Charles hadn’t had those, yet he was no less handsome for the ageing.
“Allow me to look into Stonehelm.”
Sibyl nodded, grateful. The memory of her accusing the Duke of Stonehelm of being a vulture flashed through her mind.
“And I,” Oscar spoke up, drawing her attention, “will take care of that bastard, Ferdinand. I do not like this threat he has put over your head, nor the power he will now inherit. Do let me take care of him for you, Sibyl.”
“Oscar,” Isabella warned, scowling at her husband. “There is no need to take care of anyone.”
“There is every need, darling.” Oscar grinned at her, cracking his knuckles.
Isabella shook her head, but there was a smile on her face.
“Sibyl.” Hermia stood up and pulled Sibyl to the far corner of the room. She nodded towards Isabella, who went over to the men and launched into what seemed to be a heated discussion.
Sibyl frowned at her eldest sister.
“Sibyl, are you certain you want to go through with this? You are still young, and you still have time. Heavens, I did not meet Charles until I was four-and-twenty, and you are barely even twenty. Do not rush into another marriage.”
“But I have little choice. I recall Isabella feeling the same way, and that seemed to work out for her, so perhaps I can have that.”
Hermia hesitated, her gaze growing pensive. “What if I took you and Rosie in for a while?”
Sibyl shook her head. “No. No, Hermia. While I am grateful, I cannot be a burden.”
“Which you will never be. Rosie deserves a chance, and if she is a duke’s ward, then I could give her a very good life. I could give her a good chance.”
Sibyl paused, recalling the hard look in the Duke’s eyes. “The Duke may be a complicated man, but he is adamant about protecting Rosie. He seemed offended at the thought of him harming her, and that is all that matters to me. I think he will be good to me.”
“If he is not, he will have both your brothers-in-law and us to answer to.”
Sibyl mustered a smile, and Hermia pulled her in for a hug. Collapsing into her sister’s arms, Sibyl sighed.
“You are an excellent mother, Sibyl,” Hermia whispered. “And you deserve to have the story I watched you read over and over for years. You deserve love and compassion and endless warmth every day for the rest of your life.”
Sibyl swallowed thickly, thinking once again of the Duke and his declaration that if she had been his, he would not need another woman in his bed.
She nodded and pulled away, trying not to think of love or how long she had dreamed of it. Instead, she thought of her impending wedding, wondering when it would take place.
The ceremony that was held two days later was far from what Sibyl had ever imagined.
Growing up, she had envisioned arches of roses she would walk through to reach her husband, who would be wearing a fine silver silk tailcoat and a broad smile. He would watch her with immense devotion, knowing that she was the one he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
She had imagined friends upon friends lining the pews, her family growing, and herself young and bright, full of life and excitement and love for the man she would wed.
Her stomach dipped as she entered one of the smaller churches on the outskirts of London, an elegant but simple place.
It was nothing like the grand churches where Isabella and Hermia got married.
No, this church was small, quaint, and it felt both right under the circumstances and wrong for the girl she had once been.
Earlier that week, she had been a countess, and now she was walking down the aisle on her father’s arm to become the Duchess of Stonehelm, and that difference still had not fully sunk in.
To her right, her family did fill the pews, but she could see no friend among them. Indeed, it had been a long time since she had a true friend.
As for the man at the end of the aisle…
He was not in silver, but a fine, velvet tailcoat of the darkest gray that made his brown eyes look warmer despite their intensity.