Prologue #2
As Blackstone escorted her back toward the ballroom, Ashley’s mind raced through her limited options.
She could flee London entirely, perhaps to Scotland or Ireland, where her notoriety hadn’t yet penetrated.
She could throw herself on her brother’s mercy and hope he would find some remote corner of one of his estates where she could live in quiet exile.
Or she once again could face the scandal head-on and brazen it out, though she doubted even her courage was equal to that task.
What she hadn’t expected was Blackstone’s calm pronouncement when her brother Wolf appeared at their side.
“Lord Wolfarth,” the duke said without preamble and in a voice loud enough to hear, “I’ve come to request your sister’s hand in marriage.”
The silence that followed was absolute. Never in a crowded ballroom had the absence of sound been so complete, so thunderous. Ashley felt the world tilt around her as she realized what he had just done.
Marriage. To the Duke of Blackstone. The man who had spent three years treating her as if she were invisible, who had judged her harshly for circumstances he didn’t understand. And now, because of a moment of shared grief and desperate comfort, he was offering to tie himself to her forever.
“I beg your pardon?” she managed to whisper.
“We are to marry,” Blackstone repeated, his dark eyes meeting hers with steady resolve. “Why don’t we make our way to my study to discuss the arrangements?”
As he guided her through the gaping crowd toward the privacy of his study, Ashley’s mind reeled with the implications.
This wasn’t love—it was honor, duty, the aristocratic response to a compromising situation.
But it was also salvation for them both, a way to transform scandal into respectability through the alchemy of marriage.
The question was whether she could bear a lifetime tied to a man who saw her as an obligation rather than a choice, married to someone whose heart lay buried with a red-haired Irish woman in an inconsequential grave.
As soon as they were all seated in the duke’s study with the door firmly closed, he poured another drink for all of them. Ashley took her glass without thinking, deciding the sherry would help warm the cold inside. She sat silently as he explained the situation to Wolf.
“I can’t believe this,” Wolf said harshly, finding his voice at last. “How did you let this happen, Blackstone. You compromised my sister, and now you’re doing what honor demands.”
“Honor has very little to do with it,” the duke replied coolly. “I’m offering marriage because it’s what Lady Ashley deserves—protection, position, and the respect of my name.”
Ashley sank into a chair, overwhelmed by the sudden turn her life had taken. Marriage to the Duke of Blackstone—the man she’d spent three years viewing as the embodiment of everything judgmental and cruel about society.
“I don’t understand,” she said faintly. “You were grieving another woman. Tonight, you were drunk, not thinking clearly. Surely in the morning—”
“The morning won’t change anything,” Blackstone interrupted. “A second scandal will destroy you and your sister, Lady Ivy.”
Wolf stepped forward, his protective instincts overriding his confusion. “My sister doesn’t need your pity, Your Grace.”
“It’s not pity,” Blackstone said firmly. “It’s the honorable thing to do and you know it.”
Ashley looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of the tenderness she’d glimpsed in the garden. What she saw instead was resolve, determination, and something that might have been hope.
“A marriage of convenience?” she said quietly.
“Yes,” he agreed honestly.
Wolf looked between them, his anger gradually giving way to understanding. “You’re serious about this.”
“Completely serious,” Blackstone confirmed. “Lady Ashley will have the protection of my name, title and money. She will have my homes to manage and have a life of luxury.”
“And if I refuse?” Ashley asked, though she already knew the answer.
Wolf’s expression grew grim. “You don’t have that luxury, Ashley. If you don’t marry him, you’ll be completely ostracized. No invitations, no social standing, no prospects whatsoever. And think of Ivy. She’ll be ruined too.”
“Your brother is correct,” Blackstone said gently. “I’m afraid I’ve left you with very little choice. But I promise you this—as my wife, you’ll be treated with every courtesy and respect. You’ll want for nothing, and no one will dare to slight you again.”
Ashley closed her eyes, feeling the walls of her carefully constructed life crumbling around her.
Three years of exile had been difficult enough, but at least she’d retained some small measure of independence.
Marriage to the duke would mean trading that independence for security and status, binding herself to a man who saw her as an obligation rather than a choice.
A man who had made it clear he didn’t like her.
But what alternative did she have? Ivy—she had to protect her younger sister who was already tarnished by association from the first scandal she’d been involved in.
“Very well,” she said finally, opening her eyes to meet his steady gaze. “I accept your proposal, Your Grace.”
Something flickered across Blackstone’s features—relief, perhaps, or satisfaction. “Thank you,” he said simply. “I promise you won’t regret this decision.”
“Won’t I?” Ashley rose from her chair, gathering what remained of her dignity around her like armor. “I will hold you to those words, your Grace.”
As Wolf and Ashley took their leave, with Wolf promising to call again later to discuss the arrangements, Ashley wanted to crawl into her bed and cry.
“You could do worse,” her brother said finally, his voice gentler than it had been. “He’s wealthy, titled, and despite everything, he has a reputation for treating women with respect.”
“He’s also in love with a dead woman,” Ashley replied quietly. “Marriage lasts a lifetime.” How lonely would she be?
“You’ll have your children,” Wolf suggested. “And society to rule over.”
Her stomach clenched. Children—oh my god, she’d have to share his bed. An unexpected wave of heat washed over her. Why was that thought not terrifying?
Ashley turned to look out the window of the carriage.
She’d stopped dreaming of a happy ever after when her first scandal broke.
She’d had dreams of spinsterhood and being the best aunt she could be.
Those dreams seemed very far away now. Never had she foreseen marrying—let alone marrying the Duke of Blackstone.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter what I want,” she said softly. “This is my life now. Duchess of Blackstone, wife to a man who sees me as a duty to be discharged rather than a woman to be loved.”
Wolf placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Love can grow, Ashley. Sometimes the strongest marriages are built on respect and understanding rather than passion.”
“Are they?” She leaned into her brother’s comfort, drawing strength from his steady presence. “I suppose I’ll find out, won’t I?”