Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Minerva woke the next morning with a pounding headache, the aftereffects of far too much champagne still clouding her mind.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains of her bedchamber, casting warm patterns on the walls that did nothing to ease the ache in her temples.
She groaned, burying her face in her pillow and willing herself back into the blissful oblivion of sleep.
But the events of the previous evening came flooding back: the proposal she had so desperately tried to prevent, the drunken tears she had spilled in Chastity’s arms, the way she had ranted and raved about Lord Gillies, and the heartbreak she had tried—and failed—to bury when it came to Evan.
Embarrassment rushed over her, and she sat up with a grimace, cradling her head in her hands.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Chastity entered, her expression equal parts worried and gentle. She carried a small tray with a steaming cup of tea and a slice of toast, the scent of which made Minerva’s stomach churn.
“How are you feeling?” Chastity asked softly, setting the tray down on the side table and coming to sit beside Minerva on the bed.
Minerva managed a weak smile. “Like I have been run over by a carriage,” she muttered, reaching for the tea and taking a tentative sip. The warm liquid soothed her dry throat, but it did little to calm the chaos in her heart.
Chastity’s brow furrowed. “You were... quite upset last night,” she said gently, her eyes searching Minerva’s face. “Do you remember what you told me?”
Minerva’s cheeks flushed. She did remember, though she wished she could forget.
She had confessed everything: her fears, her regrets, and, most painfully, her feelings for Evan.
But now, in the harsh light of morning, everything felt more complicated.
The certainty she had clung to in her drunken haze had faded, replaced by a cold, rational dread.
“I remember,” Minerva whispered, her voice hoarse. She set the tea aside, her hands trembling. “I was... not myself.”
Chastity hesitated, then reached for Minerva’s hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “But the things you said—about Lord Gillies, about how you don’t want to marry him—are those feelings truly just the result of too much champagne?”
Minerva’s gaze dropped to their clasped hands.
Her heart screamed that she didn’t want to marry Lord Gillies, that she wanted something—someone—else entirely.
But her head reminded her of Evan’s betrayal, of his disappearance, of the undeniable truth that he was a rake and would always be one.
What future did she truly have with a man like that?
“I don’t know,” Minerva admitted, her voice breaking. “Evan is... he’s a rake, Chastity. He doesn’t love me. He never has. And Lord Gillies is... safe. He’s a respectable match, the kind of husband I am supposed to want.”
Chastity’s eyes softened with sympathy, but there was a flicker of something else there too—determination, perhaps. “Minerva,” she said gently, “what about your own happiness? Your own heart? You have always put everyone else’s needs before your own. You deserve more than safety. You deserve love.”
Minerva’s throat tightened, and she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I cannot think about that now,” she whispered. “I have to be practical. I have to think of my family’s reputation, of what’s best for all of us.”
Chastity’s grip on her hand tightened. “But what if Evan does care for you?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent. “What if there’s more to him than what society sees?”
Minerva bit her lip, her resolve crumbling. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, though her voice wavered. “I cannot trust him, Chastity. I cannot risk my heart on a man who would break it so easily.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and filled with unspoken fears.
Finally, Chastity rose from the bed, her expression conflicted.
“I won’t pretend to understand all of this,” she said softly.
“But I do know one thing: you deserve to be happy. And if you won’t fight for it, perhaps someone else will. ”
Minerva frowned, confused by the cryptic statement.
But Chastity didn’t elaborate. She simply kissed her sister’s forehead and left the room, leaving Minerva alone with her tangled emotion.
Minerva cradled her head another moment before ringing for her maid, and side eyeing the tea for a little longer.
After dressing, she made her way slowly downstairs. When she reached the door to her father’s study, she stopped short, her heart thundering in her ears. Voices filtered through the heavy wooden door—Lord Gillies’s and her father’s, engaged in what seemed to be an important discussion.
Minerva's instincts told her to leave, but she hesitated, her hand frozen on the brass doorknob. The conversation inside was too compelling to ignore, so she pressed her ear to the door, her breath held as she listened.
“…and you are certain you wish to proceed with this marriage contract?” her father, Lord Bellington, asked, his voice measured and even. “It is a serious commitment, Lord Gillies.”
“Without question,” came Lord Gillies’s assured reply. “Lady Minerva is a most suitable match. Her grace and upbringing are precisely what I need in a wife. She will fulfill her role with the elegance befitting her station.”
Minerva swallowed hard. The words felt hollow, but there was a logic to them that she couldn’t deny.
Lord Gillies offered stability, respectability, and a life free from scandal.
It was everything she had been raised to want, to value.
Even if her heart longed for something more—something unpredictable and exhilarating, something she had tasted but could never allow herself to hope for—she knew her duty lay elsewhere.
Lord Bellington’s voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “Have you spoken with my daughter directly? It would not do to simply assume her consent. Minerva is practical, but she is still my daughter, and I expect her to be treated with due respect.”
Lord Gillies let out a polite chuckle. “Of course, Lord Bellington. I understand. I intend to propose to Lady Minerva properly. I am certain she will see the benefits of our match and agree. It is only a matter of formalities now.”
Minerva bit her lip, a wave of resignation washing over her.
Only a matter of formalities. How many times had she told herself that this was the right course, the responsible choice?
Lord Gillies was everything she should want, everything society would approve of.
And yet, the weight of her decision settled heavily on her chest.
Slowly, she stepped back from the door, the resolve she had built over the past weeks feeling thin and fragile.
Marrying Lord Gillies would be the rational choice, the safe choice.
Evan Pembroke, the Duke of Colburn, was a man of scandal, a man she couldn’t afford to dream about.
He had hurt her, and she couldn’t let herself be swayed by foolish feelings.
Her heart clenched painfully, but she forced herself to take a steadying breath. She had to accept this. Logic and duty would win over reckless passion. Even if it meant silencing the part of her that yearned for more.
Hoping to avoid Lord Gillies for a little while longer, she stole back up to her room. If he asked for her, she could claim to be indisposed.
Chastity sat on the delicate settee in the drawing room, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though her heart raced with excitement.
Lord Wellford had arrived earlier, bringing with him his usual warmth and charm that always left her feeling both flustered and elated.
His modest compliments and sincere demeanor made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t realized she craved.
“I hope you found your morning pleasant, Lady Chastity,” Wellford said, his voice quiet but steady. “London mornings can be lovely this time of year, though I imagine it is not quite like the countryside.”
“They can be,” Chastity replied, her smile soft but distracted. The note he had given her at Samantha’s gallery was still tucked carefully in her pocket, a secret that warmed her even as she tried to maintain her composure. “Though I suppose it depends on the company one keeps.”
Wellford’s lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer than was proper. “Then I hope I can make this morning pleasant for you.”
Chastity opened her mouth to respond, but the door to the drawing room swung open abruptly, and Lord Gillies strode in with his usual overbearing confidence. His eyes barely flickered over Chastity before landing on Wellford with a glimmer of disdain.
“Lady Chastity,” Lord Gillies said briskly, as if acknowledging her presence was a mere formality. “I have come to speak with your sister. Is she available?”
Chastity stiffened, her pleasant mood evaporating like morning dew. “Minerva is indisposed,” she replied with measured politeness. “She is weary from her exertions yesterday.”
Lord Gillies let out a scoffing laugh, shaking his head. “Indisposed again? She has been rather elusive lately. I do hope she understands that she cannot hide forever. Certain decisions must be made, after all.”
“Well,” Chastity said, her voice colder now, “I imagine she will make her decisions when she is ready, not before.”
Gillies' smirk widened as he leaned casually against the back of a chair. “She is fortunate that some decisions are being made for her. A woman of her age and temperament should appreciate the opportunity to secure a match that is both advantageous and... enduring.”
Chastity’s hands curled into fists in her lap, her smile tightening. “I am certain Minerva is capable of deciding what is best for her.”
Gillies ignored her remark, his gaze flickering briefly to Wellford. “And who might you be, sir?”
“Wellford,” he said simply, inclining his head. “Baron of Wellford.”
Gillies blinked, a moment of surprise crossing his face before he recovered. “Ah, a pleasure,” he said, though his tone lacked sincerity. “You’ll forgive me, I wasn’t expecting to find you here. Not many among the ton frequent this house.”
“Well,” Chastity interjected, her voice sharper than usual, “the company we keep is our choice, Lord Gillies.”
Gillies’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave her a stiff nod. “Of course.” Turning back to Wellford, he added, “It was an honor to meet you, my lord. I shall leave you to... your conversation.”
Without waiting for a response, Gillies turned and left the room, his boots echoing sharply against the polished floorboards.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Chastity let out a sharp breath, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “That man is insufferable.”
“ “I had overheard him at White’s the other day about this lady he was courting. I had no idea it was your sister.”
“What was he saying?” Chastity asked, startled by Wellford’s tone.
Wellford shook his head. “He was claiming that he had finally bested someone, and would soon be wed. I did not pay him much attention at the time, but it makes much more sense now, seeing the context.”
“Bested someone?” Chastity scoffed, shaking her head. “He’s arrogant and presumptuous. I cannot imagine Minerva marrying him.” She paused, her brow furrowing as she remembered the previous night. “I wonder who he might think he has bested.”
Wellford tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “Surely it does not matter?”
Chastity hesitated, glancing at the door as if to ensure they were still alone.
“Last night,” she began slowly, “Minerva had too much to drink. She said things... things about how she feels.” Her voice softened as she added, “She cried, Wellford. She cried about how trapped she feels. And she said... she said Colburn’s name. ”
Wellford’s brow arched, though his tone remained calm. “The Duke of Colburn?”
Chastity nodded, her thoughts racing. “I didn’t think much of it at first. But now, after seeing how she’s been acting lately, I think... I think she loves him.”
Wellford studied her, his expression careful. “Does she know it herself?”
“I don’t think so,” Chastity admitted. “She’s too stubborn to admit it, even to me. But I have seen the way she looks at him, the way she talks about him. And I think he cares for her too, though heaven knows he’s done a poor job of showing it.”
“Well,” Wellford said slowly, “if what you say is true, then perhaps they need a chance to realize it for themselves.”
Chastity’s jaw set with determination. “Yes. And I am going to make sure they have that chance.”
Wellford frowned, rising to his feet as she did the same. “What exactly are you planning, Chastity?”
She straightened her shoulders, her resolve firm.
“I am going to visit Evan. He needs to know how Minerva feels—or at least, how I suspect she feels. If I don’t do something, Lord Gillies will force her into a marriage she doesn’t want, and Minerva will never forgive herself for not fighting for what she truly wants. ”
Wellford’s frown deepened. “You cannot go alone. It would be improper.”
“Which is why you cannot come with me,” Chastity said firmly. “If anyone sees us together, it will only create more rumors. I will go alone. If I am caught, I will say I was delivering a message on Minerva’s behalf.”
Wellford shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re risking a great deal, Chastity.”
“And so is Minerva,” she shot back. “But this isn’t about me. It is about her chance at happiness.”
He hesitated, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Thank you, Wellford.”
He reached out, taking her hand briefly in his own. “Good luck, Chastity.”
She nodded, releasing his hand as she turned toward the door.
Her heart raced with a mix of nerves and determination, but she knew this was something she had to do.
Minerva and Evan deserved a chance at happiness, and Chastity would do whatever it took to give them that chance—even if it meant risking her own reputation.