Chapter 36
“It was very kind of you to come pick me up, Athol.”
I was surprised by a message from Rodrick saying that his former guardian—though I have no idea why he still calls him that; friend or even foster father would be more accurate, since, as I’ve recently learned, he has been Rodrick’s legal guardian since he was eleven—would accompany me on the way to his office.
“It’s a pleasure, Jazmina.”
“Shall we go?”
We’re in the lobby of my building, on our way to formalize the marriage contract. In truth, it’s a prenuptial agreement, as Kaled explained to me.
When we arrive, I’ll meet not only my fiancé but also three attorneys appointed by my brother.
I tried to argue, but both he and Rodrick were adamant that I should have independent legal counsel, not lawyers from the same firm as my fiancé.
Athol opens the door for me to get into the back seat of the limousine. I see my bodyguards positioning themselves to follow us in other cars.
Once we’re settled and buckled in, I confess, “This whole prenuptial agreement thing makes me uncomfortable.”
“Isn’t it done this way in your country?”
“Probably, but it makes everything feel so mechanical . . . and sad, too. Like a forecast of the end.”
“And isn’t that what you’re seeking, miss? An ending? Your freedom?”
I look out the window, awkward. “I like the duke. More and more.”
“That’s a good start for a marriage.”
“Is it? I’m not sure. I don’t really know him that well. He’s had . . .” I hesitate. “May I speak frankly? My brother would kill me if he heard me say this, but I think you know Rodrick better than anyone.”
“Speak freely, lass.”
“He’s had many female companions in the past. After we’re married, even if there’s a divorce someday, he’ll keep the title of duke. He won’t need me anymore. He could go back to enjoying as many women as he wants around the world.”
“Don’t you remember that he had already given up on the title when he proposed to you? Do you have any idea how many women volunteered to become the new Duchess of Kindubh? One hundred and sixty-eight. I didn’t even know there were that many unmarried women in Scottish high society.”
“And out of all those, only those two remained?”
“Yes. Because Rodrick made many demands. One of them was not seeing his future wife beyond what was strictly necessary. And even when they agreed—eagerly—he would always find another reason to eliminate them. Just like what happened with Davina and Elizabeth.”
“You said he didn’t want to see his future wife more than necessary, but we’ll be living together.”
“I know. It’s far beyond anything I ever imagined my boy would reach one day, Jazmina. I don’t feel comfortable talking about him in his absence, but keep in mind that what you see of Rodrick is only what he allows to surface. Inside, there’s a lot of anger and pain.”
“I know he doesn’t like his father.”
“Did Rodrick tell you that?”
“No, but he showed me pictures of his mother, and when I asked about his father, he said there was nothing good to tell.”
“I don’t know if he’ll ever tell you everything, Jazmina. That’s his decision, and it’s not my place to interfere. But I can tell you that he blames himself for his father Donell’s death.”
“How is that possible? He was just a child.”
“I can’t say more, lass. I’m sorry. But I do believe in love, and that it changes people. I don’t know if that’s what you two feel, but you’re the first person he’s ever allowed to get this close.”
“All right. I won’t insist. I don’t want you to betray your friend’s trust because of me. But at least . . . can you tell me about Gilroy?”
He frowns. “What about him? How did you meet him?”
“I didn’t. He barged into our dinner on the day we got engaged.”
“What? Rodrick didn’t tell me anything.”
“The man called him brother, and then they started insulting each other. There was a moment when I was sure they were going to get physical.”
“My God. Why can’t Gilroy just stay away? Nothing good can come from association with him,” he says, sounding troubled.
“I know Rodrick doesn’t have brothers, so who is that man, Athol?”
“Your fiancé didn’t tell you?”
“No. And I didn’t push because he became very . . . I don’t even know what word to use. Enraged, maybe?”
“Yes, I can imagine. Gilroy was the son of Rodrick’s nanny. The woman who married his father when Rodrick was still a baby.”
“Oh. So they are brothers, in a way.”
“No. They hate each other. When Donell died, one of Rodrick’s first actions was to expel the boy from his lands.”
I try to process all that information, but it’s like putting together a flawed puzzle.
“I didn’t like him. There was something bad in his eyes.
” I sigh, frustrated. “I suppose you can’t tell me more, can you?
Something tells me everything is connected.
His father’s death and this hatred toward his foster brother. ”
He stares straight ahead and says nothing more.
I understand the conversation has ended there. Anything else would feel like betraying his former ward.
I pretend to focus on the contract in front of me so I don’t have to look at anyone. I know Rodrick is watching me closely, and my face is burning.
In addition to the properties scattered around the world that I’ll receive upon marrying him, as well as a generous lifetime allowance, my fiancé has included an absurd number of shares in his distillery in the event that he becomes involved with another woman during the marriage.
I understand the message: he has no intention of cheating on me. I know how much he loves his company. He wouldn’t put it at risk by offering up such a large portion of shares if he didn’t intend to follow this prenuptial agreement to the letter.
“Good enough for you, my princess?” There’s sarcasm in his tone.
“You didn’t have to do all that.”
“But I did,” he says, and now I know for sure he’s enjoying himself.
“Given your history, Your Grace, I think a fidelity clause is highly recommended.”
I hear Athol stifle a laugh.
“Would you like to add anything else, Jazmina?” Rodrick asks.
To be honest, I barely read everything, trusting the judgment of the attorneys my brother hired. Even more than Kaled, they know all the terms of the marriage, including a likely ending, for which we have not set a deadline.
“Um . . . no, my fiancé. I think everything is settled.”
“There’s one item missing,” one of my lawyers intervenes. “It is a requirement of the duke that Your Highness agrees, Princess Jazmina. Please read page seven carefully.”
I open the contract expecting to see another property or even a joke. It would be very typical of Rodrick to include something like that.
Instead, I’m completely blindsided by what’s written.
Under no circumstances shall there be children from the aforementioned union.
I read it three times, but the words don’t change.
Under no circumstances shall there be children from the aforementioned union.
My throat tightens, and I can barely breathe without showing any emotion.
What I’m holding isn’t just a clause—it’s the certainty of the end, and more than that, of emotional distance. Children represent indissoluble bonds, even if the couple is no longer together. Rodrick’s decision not to want them before we’ve even shared a home says a lot.
I smooth the page to calm myself, and only when I feel composed enough to play the role of the indifferent princess do I turn to the man who spoke to me with the fakest smile in the world.
“I completely agree.”