Chapter 32 #2
As she watched, Rosalie rose on her toes and pressed her lips to Thomas’s in a kiss that spoke of sweetness and promise and everything Sybil had once dreamed of having for herself.
It should have been touching. It was touching—young love in all its innocent glory.
But even as the thought formed, dread settled in her stomach like a stone. She turned slowly toward Hugo, some terrible instinct warning her of what she would see.
The man standing beside her was no longer her husband.
Gone was any trace of the person who had worked beside her in the garden, who had brought her tea when she couldn’t sleep, who had looked at her with growing tenderness.
In his place stood a figure of terrible, controlled fury whose amber eyes had turned to chips of winter ice.
This was the Duke of Vestiaire in all his fearsome power—the man who could destroy lives with a single word, who commanded absolute obedience through sheer force of will.
This was the Duke whose displeasure could reduce grown men to stammering terror, whose very presence could freeze a room into deathly silence.
“Hugo,” she whispered, but he was already moving, his face a mask of lethal purpose as he strode across the garden toward the unsuspecting young couple.
And she knew, with horrible, crushing certainty, that everything she had ever hoped to build with him was about to crumble to dust.
She’s kissing him. My daughter is kissing that boy.
Fury exploded through Hugo, white-hot and all-consuming. Every protective instinct he possessed roared to life, drowning out rational thought and civilized behavior.
How dare he. How dare he take such liberties with my daughter?
“Hugo, wait—” Sybil began, following his gaze. “Oh. Oh, dear.”
Hugo was already striding across the garden, his vision narrowed to that single shocking image.
His eighteen-year-old daughter—the girl he’d protected and cherished and worried over since the day she was born—locked in an embrace with a man who’d never even formally requested permission to court her.
In public. Where anyone might see. Where scandal could destroy everything.
“Pemberton,” he called, his voice carrying across the garden like the crack of a whip.
The young couple sprang apart as if burned, Rosalie’s hand flying to her lips in guilty shock. Pemberton stepped protectively in front of her, his face pale but determined in the lamplight.
At least he has the spine to face me. Though that won’t save him.
“Your Grace,” Pemberton began, his voice admirably steady despite the circumstances. “I can explain—”
“Can you?” Hugo’s voice was deadly quiet as he approached, each step measured and deliberate. “Can you explain why you’re taking liberties with my daughter in a public garden? Where any member of society might have witnessed such… impropriety?”
Impropriety. Such a mild word for behavior that could ruin her reputation forever.
“Papa, please—” Rosalie started, her voice small and frightened.
“Silence!” Hugo’s gaze never left Pemberton’s face, cataloging the young man’s pallor, the way his hands trembled slightly at his sides. “I’m waiting for this explanation.”
He’s afraid. Good. He should be afraid.
Behind him, he could hear Sybil’s quick footsteps on the gravel path, but his attention remained fixed on the boy who’d dared to compromise his daughter.
“Your Grace,” Pemberton swallowed hard but met Hugo’s gaze directly, “I assure you my intentions toward Lady Rosalie are entirely honorable—”
“Honorable?” Hugo’s laugh was harsh, without any trace of humor. “Honorable men don’t steal kisses in gardens, boy. They declare their intentions through proper channels with appropriate respect for a lady’s father and family.”
“Papa, you don’t understand—” Rosalie stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and something that looked dangerously like defiance. “Thomas has already declared his intentions. He’s asked for my hand in marriage.”
Asked for her hand. Without consulting me. Without showing proper respect.
The fury that had been simmering in Hugo’s chest exploded into white-hot rage. The boy hadn’t just taken liberties with his daughter—he’d completely circumvented Hugo’s authority as her father.
“Asked for your hand,” Hugo repeated slowly, his voice soft with menace. “And when, exactly, did this proposal occur? Before or after you decided to make free with my daughter’s person?”
“Before,” Pemberton said quietly though his voice wavered. “Just tonight, actually. I was overcome with emotion when Lady Rosalie accepted—”
“Emotion.” Hugo’s tone could have frozen the Thames in July. “How convenient. And it never occurred to you that a gentleman seeks the father’s permission before proposing?”
“Your Grace, I fully intended to speak with you tonight. After the ball concluded. I wanted Lady Rosalie to have a chance to answer first—”
“What you wanted was to circumvent my authority entirely.” Hugo’s voice was climbing now, his control slipping.
“Hugo,” Sybil appeared at his elbow, her voice urgent. “Perhaps we should discuss this more privately—”
“Privately?” He spun to face her, amber eyes blazing. “You want me to discuss privately the fact that this boy has compromised my daughter’s reputation?”
“I haven’t compromised anyone,” Pemberton protested, stepping protectively in front of Rosalie. “I love her more than my own life, and she’s accepted my proposal of marriage.”
“Papa, I kissed him,” Rosalie said desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thomas didn’t force anything. I was so happy—”
“That you forgot every lesson in proper behavior I’ve ever taught you?” Hugo’s attention snapped to his daughter, his fury ratcheting higher. “That you decided to behave like a common—”
“Hugo!” Sybil’s voice cracked like a whip. “That’s quite enough.”
“Is it? Because my daughter has just admitted to initiating improper behavior with a man who had no right to accept such advances.”
“It was just a kiss, Papa,” Rosalie sobbed. “One kiss, because I love him—”
“You thought wrong.” Hugo’s voice was flat and final, carrying the full weight of ducal authority. “Lord Pemberton, you will meet me at dawn in four days time.”
A duel. Yes, that’s what honor demands. Satisfaction for the insult to my family’s name.
The color drained completely from Pemberton’s face, but he nodded stiffly, his jaw set with grim determination.
“Of course, Your Grace. I’ll arrange for seconds immediately.”
“Hugo, no!” Sybil grabbed his arm with both hands, her grip desperate. “You can’t be serious. A duel? Over a kiss between two people who love each other?”
Two people who think they love each other. Two children who have no concept of the consequences of their actions.
“They are not engaged,” he said coldly, pulling free from her grip. “Without my permission which has decidedly not been granted.”
“Papa, please,” Rosalie was sobbing in earnest now, her carefully arranged hair coming loose from its pins. “Don’t do this. Thomas is a good man. He makes me happy. He’ll be a wonderful husband—”
“Lord Pemberton will be a dead man if he doesn’t learn proper respect for authority,” Hugo said grimly, his decision made and unshakeable.
“Your Grace,” Pemberton stepped forward, his face pale but resolute, “I accept your challenge without reservation. But I want you to know that I would never intentionally dishonor Lady Rosalie or your family. I love her with everything I am.”
Love again. Always love, as if emotion excuses everything.
“How remarkably touching,” Hugo replied with arctic courtesy. “Dawn, then. Hyde Park, by the Serpentine. Your seconds can arrange the details with mine.”
“Hugo, please,” Sybil’s voice was breaking now, desperate with fear. “This is madness. You’ll destroy them both. You’ll destroy Rosalie’s happiness for the sake of your wounded pride.”
“I’ll restore my family’s honor,” he corrected coldly. “Something that boy should have considered before taking liberties with my daughter.”
“But Papa—” Rosalie started forward, but Pemberton caught her hand.
“It’s all right, my darling,” he said quietly though his voice shook with emotion. “Your father is within his rights. I should have spoken to him before proposing. I should have been more careful of your reputation.”
“Thomas, no,” Rosalie whispered. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you risk your life for me.”
“I would risk far more than my life for you,” Pemberton replied, raising her hand to his lips in a gesture that was both tender and heartbreaking. “You’re worth everything to me.”
“How very noble,” Hugo said dryly. “I’m sure your nobility will be a great comfort to Lady Rosalie when she’s wearing mourning clothes.”
“Hugo!” Sybil’s voice was sharp with shock. “How can you be so cruel?”
“I’m being honest about the likely outcome of tomorrow’s meeting,” he replied with icy calm. “Perhaps Lord Pemberton should have considered such possibilities before he decided to compromise my daughter.”
As he turned to stride back toward the house, Hugo could hear the sound of Rosalie’s sobs mixing with Sybil’s desperate attempts at reason and Pemberton’s quiet words of comfort. But the roar of blood in his ears drowned out their words.
And if young Lord Pemberton didn’t survive the encounter, well… perhaps that would serve as a lesson to other young men about the importance of showing proper respect for the daughters of dukes.