Chapter 3
“Ibeg your pardon?” Edith sputtered, stunned.
She blinked twice, as if doing so might erase him and prove this to be a mirage. It didn’t.
“I can offer you and the girl protection and social legitimacy if I marry you and adopt her. It would give you both a secure home,” he explained. “I doubt a widow’s allowance will be enough to support you both.”
His gaze left hers, drifting over her before darting away.
Edith watched, utterly baffled by this unexpected turn of events. The way his gaze had lingered told her this wasn’t just a practical solution he was offering her and Tilly. He wanted something, too.
“I do not need your help,” she spat.
“Of course, but it would not hurt,” he reasoned. “You didn’t receive any donations tonight because the ton discredits your judgment, correct?”
“And marriage would not necessarily fix that.”
“No, but marriage to a wealthy duke might,” he countered. “It would also mean that you would not have to beg the ton for scraps. Some of them may even become more eager, hoping their… generosity may put them in a better standing with me.”
Edith swallowed hard. She deeply disliked relying on others for things she believed she could do herself, but…
She was not a duke. She was only a widow.
“And how would this arrangement benefit you? I am not any lady. I am a scandalous widow with a commoner ward,” Edith prodded.
“I would gain a wife and a child,” the Duke said softly, looking back at her.
The deep blue of his eyes shimmered in the soft candlelight.
Edith shivered, then arched an eyebrow. Even in hypotheticals, this man, who had only met her and her ward tonight, was already calling Tilly his own.
He rose and walked toward her. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice now a gentle rumble.
“No,” she replied. “I have no reason to be. But why us?”
His expression was hard, but not unkind. Edith could feel his gaze piercing her soul once again.
Her heart fluttered as she looked at the handsome man before her. The scars that unsettled others only increased his appeal.
At last, he nodded. “You and your ward are the only women who have looked me in the eye for more than two seconds in years,” he explained. “I would prefer to have a wife and child who do not cower or faint at the sight of me.”
“And how do you know that Tilly wouldn’t be afraid of you?” Edith asked, tilting her head to look up at him.
“Because she’s looking at me without fear right now,” he said, nodding toward the doorway.
Edith turned her head to see Tilly standing in the hallway that led to the parlor, peeking at the scene.
“Tilly, I said, go to bed,” Edith said, rising and moving toward the door.
Tilly let out a frustrated sigh, and Edith could see her little hands tightly gripping her skirt. “But—”
“No buts, little miss.” Edith took her shoulder and steered her toward the stairs.
“He’s nice… for a duke,” Tilly whispered.
Edith nodded and watched Tilly go upstairs before turning back to the Duke. “Why are you making this offer?” she asked skeptically, leaning against the doorframe.
“As I said, to gain a wife and a child.”
Edith bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snapping. She could feel her blood pressure rising with each evasive response.
“Yes, but Tilly is a girl. You are aware of this, no?”
“I am,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“As such, Tilly would never be your heir,” Edith pointed out.
The Duke shook his head. “Who said anything about an heir? I am not looking for an heir.”
Edith frowned in confusion. “Most gentlemen want heirs.”
“I am not most men.”
Edith searched his eyes, hoping to catch a hint of dishonesty or some glimpse into his thoughts.
“I must admit I am suspicious,” she said softly. “You must realize how strange this looks. A man I don’t know defends me and my ward, then comes to our home proposing marriage. For what, to gain a child? Why would you want a child, but not an heir?”
The parlor held its breath as silence stretched between them. The Duke looked at her, then dropped his gaze. Edith swallowed hard, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
The Duke stepped closer, and she felt his eyes appraising her once more.
“The duchy,” he started. “It is in a poor state. I inherited it some time ago, along with the fortune my father built during his lifetime, but I am unable to access the funds I need to secure it.”
“Unable?” Edith echoed, cocking her head.
“His will contains a clause. To be able to access the funds, I must—”
“Have a wife and a child,” Edith finished for him, the truth of the situation finally sinking in.
“Now you see my plight.”
“It is quickly becoming clearer, but why not simply father children of your own? Why go through all this trouble to adopt a child?”
“I have neither the intention nor the desire to father a child,” he huffed.
“Why not?”
Edith watched his jaw clench as he looked away from her. He inhaled deeply, as if to steady himself, but his shoulders remained rigid.
“That is my concern, not yours,” he said, his hands now curled into fists at his sides. “Do you accept my offer?”
“I…” Edith looked away, her thoughts racing. “I don’t…”
The Duke’s expression hardened, and he walked up to her until his face was mere inches from her own. The smell of wine and cedarwood tickled her senses.
“I want to make myself clear, Lady Nealton. I do not care for the prattling of the ton, or their whispers about reputation and scandal,” he declared.
“But—”
“I do not care about your reputation, nor where Tilly comes from. What I care about is gaining access to my fortune. Yes, after we marry, they will talk—as they always do. But eventually, they’ll move on to the next scandal.
With my title and money, you would be able to continue your charity work and give Tilly a secure home.
You would have something important that few ladies of the ton ever achieve: independence. ”
Edith looked at him, her heart beating in her throat at his proximity. As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t deny the truth of his words.
She was a widow, and though her late husband had been respectable, he hadn’t been a duke. She had seen how quickly the ton’s opinion shifted in the presence of a title and fortune. Tilly could have a good life, and Edith’s charity and independence could endure.
“Are you implying that ours would be a marriage of convenience?”
“Yes. Purely business. That being said, neither you nor your ward will ever lack for anything. You will have everything both of you desire,” he answered firmly, keeping his sharp eyes on hers.
Edith took a long, deep breath, trying her best to calm her hammering heart.
Another marriage of convenience. Another marriage where I would be nothing more than a mere ornament for my husband.
Sadness flooded her. She’d never held out any real hope of finding love as a widow, but if she accepted the Duke’s cold, practical offer, even the faintest of hopes would have to be extinguished. For good.
Nevertheless, she had no other choice. After the way the ton had treated her at that evening’s charity gala, she knew exactly where she stood.
She now had a child to care for. Until then, she’d scraped by alone, trading comfort for survival. But that was when she’d only had to worry about her own needs.
I can do this for Tilly. For the charities.
“I accept,” she breathed.
The Duke nodded once. “Then we’ll be wed within the week.”
Edith blinked. “That’s a bit quick,” she protested.
“The quicker, the better. You need not worry, I will handle all the preparations. All you need to do is show up.”
In less than a week, my whole life will change.
“I… I see,” was the only response she could muster. “Thank you.”
“Goodnight, Lady Nealton.” The Duke bowed, then turned around and strode out of the parlor.
And with a click of the front door, he was gone.
“Are you sure about this?” Ava asked, snapping Edith out of her reverie.
“As sure as I can be.”
Ava said nothing more, busying herself with adjusting Edith’s dress.
It was far finer than the dress Edith had worn for her first wedding, a practical lilac gown chosen for its reusability at future balls.
This dress was different and was meant only for today.
It was soft and white, the delicate fabric clinging to her lithe frame in a graceful but eye-catching way.
The flower embroidery on its overlay lent it an ethereal air.
Just more tangible proof of what a title and fortune can secure.
“We know almost nothing about him,” Ava said as she stood next to her and continued primping her before the mirror. Her pregnancy showed slightly under her dress.
“You really must not worry about me in your condition, dear Ava,” Edith said softly.
“It is your condition over which I would worry. This duke has been a recluse for years,” Ava pointed out.
“Many sane people withdraw from the ton,” Edith argued.
“I know, but he seems rather…” Ava paused, choosing her words carefully. “Intimidating?”
“Some could say that your husband is an intimidating man,” Edith teased.
“I know,” Ava sighed. “But the Duke of Alderbourne…” she trailed off.
Edith could see the concern in her eyes.
“What are you worried about?” she asked. “I mean, specifically.”
Ava hesitated, then turned to look into Edith’s eyes. “We know nothing about him. He’s been a recluse ever since the ton began spreading rumors that he is a monster, which he has never denied. I am just concerned for your safety, and for Tilly’s.”
“I do not think him a violent man,” Edith replied softly. “He is cryptic, mysterious certainly…” she trailed off. She swallowed hard, recalling how his steady, unflinching stare seemed to penetrate her to the core. “Perhaps… alluring in his own way. I dare say his scars tell an interesting story.”
“An interesting story? Edith, those scars are what have earned him his reputation as a beast!”