Chapter 2
Two
They moved inside as though drawn by the gravity of inevitability.
Elena wished she could be done with it all.
None of it was to her liking, but for now she would have to withstand it.
Damn her father for putting her in this untenable situation.
The footmen shut the doors behind them with a quiet finality, and the sound seemed to echo in Elena’s bones.
The entry hall smelled faintly of lilies—too many lilies—and she could hear distant voices in the corridors.
The sounds of servants preparing for the numerous guests that would arriving and the estate seemed to be rearranging itself around the idea of a wedding it believed would happen with or without her.
Damian walked ahead, not rushing, not escorting, simply moving as if the hall belonged to him and time did, too.
Elena hated the ease of his confidence. Rowan kept pace at Elena’s side.
Lady Peregrine trailed a few steps behind, silent and watching them all like a master manipulator waiting to unleash her schemes.
Damian halted at the threshold of a smaller drawing room and gestured Elena inside as though granting her entry into a negotiation chamber.
Elena entered without waiting for permission.
She did not need him to give it to her, and she didn’t feel as if she owed him any such consideration.
Rowan and Lady Peregrine followed behind them and then Damian entered and shut the door with a soft click.
Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “If ye mean tae threaten her…”
“I do not threaten women,” Damian said calmly.
He didn’t need to did he… Elena barked a laugh. “No. You merely invite them to a wedding they have not agreed to attend.”
Damian’s gaze flicked to her, golden and steady. “You agreed to attend by arriving. If it is to your displeasure, you should have stayed with Rowan’s family as I had begun to believe you would.”
Elena’s hands clenched. She would have liked to remain there, but that was never a possibility for her.
She fully believed that Damian would have come to retrieve her.
“That is not agreement. That is defiance. I bow down to no one.” She did not voice her fears.
Elena had to remain strong and hold her ground with him.
If she gave in even a little bit, he would leap forward and take advantage of her momentary weakness.
“Excellent,” Damian replied, unbothered. “Defiance is honest. I prefer it to theatrics.”
Elena’s eyes flashed. “I am not prone to such proclivities,” she drawled. “Trust me, you don’t know what I am capable of, and theatrics is not something in my repertoire.”
“I presume you are intelligent,” he said, “and that you understand precisely what you are doing.”
Rowan muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience. Elena stepped forward, closing the distance deliberately. “Then allow me to make it perfectly plain,” she said. “I will not marry you. Not in three days. Not in three weeks. Not ever.”
Damian looked at her as though she had just presented him with a difficult chess move. Then he said, maddeningly calm, “Why?”
The question stole Elena’s breath for a heartbeat.
Not How dare you? Not You must. Not You will.
Just…why. Elena’s temper surged again because she hated that his calmness demanded clarity.
“Because you are insufferable,” she snapped.
“Arrogant, demanding and you speak as though I am a solution to your problem, not a person. Not someone with dreams, desires, or even simple needs that do not bare consideration.”
Damian nodded once, as if filing her words away. “Reasonable.”
Elena blinked. “Reasonable?” Had she heard him correctly.
Was that all he had to say? Did he not actually hear what she said.
She wanted to scream at him and give him those theatrics he mentioned earlier.
She wouldn’t though. Not because she wasn’t capable of them as she implied, but because she did not want to be disproven so soon on anything she uttered in his presence.
“Yes,” he said, “to resent being treated as an instrument is quite reasonable. But your resentment does not change the fact that I need a wife, and the contracts have already been signed. Your father has given his permission for us to wed.”
Elena’s voice went razor-thin. “And I need a world where men stop deciding what women must do.” She cursed her father and his decisions without consulting her once again. She would not be in this predicament if he hadn’t gotten himself into debt with the Earl of Rosebery.
Damian’s gaze held hers, unflinching. “Then do not marry me,” he said.
“But you know the consequences if you chose not to. You wish to have a choice, and it is yours. I will not force you to be my wife, but that choice may be one you come to regret. I would hate for you to come to that conclusion when it is too late to rectify it.”
Silence slammed into the room. Rowan’s eyes widened slightly. Lady Peregrine’s gaze sharpened.
Elena’s pulse stuttered. “What?” How could he be so…cold?
Damian folded his hands behind his back.
“If you truly will not, you may refuse.” His gaze moved briefly toward the window, where servants crossed the lawn like ants around a hive.
“Scandal, speculation, discomfort to name a few…” He looked back.
“But I will not drag you into the chapel and force you to say vows to me. I do want a wife, but I will not live with a woman who will only come to resent me. So, make a choice.”
Elena’s anger faltered, only for an instant, replaced by suspicion. “Then what is this?”
Damian’s mouth curved faintly. “A negotiation.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed. “With a wedding already planned.” She had never been so confused in her entire life. What game was he playing now?
“I planned for what I believed would occur, and certainly hope it still will,” he said smoothly. “Belief is not certainty. But preparation is always a good thing to begin with.”
Lady Peregrine made a soft sound, almost a sigh but nearly a laugh she couldn’t repress.
Elena’s gaze snapped to her. “Do you hear him? He speaks as though my consent is a minor detail.”
Lady Peregrine’s voice was quiet. “I hear him speaking as a man who has never been refused a thing in his life. Why not try his tactic. Sometimes the best marriages begin with a little negotiation.”
Damian’s gaze flicked to Lady Peregrine. The air between them tightened and their history blazed between them. There was a lot of blame and pride bridging that gap.
Lady Peregrine held his gaze without blinking. “And I hear,” she continued evenly, “a woman who has every right to refuse if you do not wish to marry him after these negotiations, then I will help you to your carriage myself.”
Elena’s chest tightened. She had expected Lady Peregrine to press her into agreeing to the marriage.
To persuade her it was the right path. Instead, the dowager stood like a judge, not an accomplice in the earl’s schemes.
Damian’s jaw flexed once, then he returned his attention to Elena as if Lady Peregrine’s words were simply another factor to account for.
“You believe I wish to own you,” Damian said. “I do not.”
Elena scoffed. “How generous.”
Damian stepped closer, not enough to corner her, but enough that Elena could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “I wish,” he said quietly, “to win you.”
Elena’s breath caught, traitorously. Rowan’s head snapped up. Ophelia’s gaze turned sharp with interest. Elena forced herself to laugh. “Win me. What a notion…”
“Yes,” Damian said. “Because, as I said, I do not merely want an obedient wife. I want a partner. A woman to share my life with” He paused a moment and stared at her. “You are not merely a convenient woman that I can say vows with. Nothing about you is that simple.”
Elena’s chin lifted. “I am not being difficult for sport, my lord.”
“I know,” he replied earnestly. “You are being difficult because you refuse to surrender.”
Elena’s pulse raced. “And you think I should?” This conversation had taken several turns she had not expected, and she was reacting without thinking through most of it.
She had not expected him to be remotely reasonable, and she was not so certain she liked it either.
It gave her less and less to protest against.
Damian’s gaze dropped, briefly, to her mouth, then returned to her eyes with maddening discipline. “No,” he said. “I think you should choose.”
Elena stared, fury and confusion tangling in her chest.
“Choose what?” she demanded.
Damian’s voice remained calm, but something honest moved beneath it.
“Choose whether you will marry me,” he said.
“Not because you are expected to, and not because you are trapped. Because you decide the terms that will suit you best, and you will want to be my wife by the time we are ready to say those vows.”
Elena’s throat tightened. “And if I choose, no?”
Damian’s expression did not change, but his eyes darkened slightly, as if he disliked the notion far more than he intended to show. “Then I will release you,” he said. “With your reputation protected as best I can manage.”
Elena’s anger didn’t vanish, but it shifted.
Because she could not decide whether this was arrogance in a prettier coat…
or something else. Lady Peregrine watched them both, guilt written in the careful tension of her posture.
Elena suddenly understood why. Lady Peregrine had meddled before and had set a chain of events in motion that led to Rosebery being humiliated, his cousin stolen, and.
his first wedding to her to be upended. Now she stood here as if determined to see this match made right, but unwilling to force Elena into a corner to see it done.
Elena’s gaze narrowed. “This is your doing,” she said, turning slightly toward Lady Peregrine. “Isn’t it?”
Ophelia did not flinch. “I bear some responsibility,” she said quietly. “Yes. A friend of mine helped deliver that invitation to invite you here and see the wedding done.”
Elena’s chest tightened. “Then tell him,” she demanded. “Tell him that I will not be used to mend what you broke.”
Damian’s gaze snapped to Lady Peregrine again. “What did you break?”
Ophelia’s mouth tightened. “More than I intended. But nothing that cannot be altered. Lady Elena is being dramatic. She would not have readily agreed to wed you if I hadn’t told Lachlan your intended would arrive soon and stole Horatia from her broken carriage.
” She met Elena’s gaze. “You used it as an excuse to remain with Rowan and her family longer than you intended. This altercation was only delayed by my actions. Surely you must see that.”
Rowan looked between them, eyes narrowing. “Then perhaps,” she said coolly, “All of ye should try a bit of honesty.”
Elena’s hand trembled with fury, but she steadied it at her side. Damian looked at Elena again, and his voice went softer, just enough to be dangerous. “Consider my suggestions and open negotiations with me,” he said. “I want you and I have not made a secret of that desire.”
Elena’s breath caught again, infuriating her. “Do not say that,” she snapped. “You barely know me.”
Damian’s gaze held hers. “I know enough.”
Elena’s voice was sharp. “You know I will fight you.” It was not in her nature to do anything less.
His mouth curved faintly. “Yes.”
He stared at her as if he could not wait for their battles to begin. Was he a perverse man? Elena narrowed her eyes. “You know I will never be obedient.”
His gaze warmed, just slightly. “Good.” Yes, definitely perverse.
She didn’t know how she felt about that.
Elena’s pulse leapt, treacherous and unwanted.
Damian stepped back, giving her space with deliberate control.
“Three days,” he said calmly. “Not for you to be forced into matrimony. For you to decide if you can tolerate me, and perhaps, even a little more than that...”
Elena’s laugh was breathless. “Tolerate you.” She shook her head. “I do not know if I can do more than that or even that much.”
Damian’s eyes glinted. “Perhaps,” he said, “you may even find tolerable to be too tame a word to describe what may be between us…”
Rowan made a choking sound. Lady Peregrine pressed her lips together, as if holding back a smile. Elena glared at all of them. “This is absurd.”
Damian inclined his head slightly. “Yes. It certainly is, but entertaining nonetheless…”
Elena’s eyes narrowed. “And if I still refuse?” Surely it could not be that easy.
Damian’s voice went quiet. “Then you will walk away free, as I’ve already stated,” he said. “And I will endure the consequences will never darken your life. They will be my burden to bear.”
Elena stared at him, anger and suspicion and something perilously close to intrigue twisting together in her chest. Outside, the estate continued to hum with preparations, as if it did not understand that a woman’s will could stop an entire wedding.
Inside, the Earl of Rosebery stood calm as stone and offered her something she did not trust…
a choice. Behind them, Lady Peregrine watched with a guilt-ridden gaze, as if praying this time, the chain she had set in motion might finally lead to something earned rather than stolen, and that Elena would agree to be the earl’s wife.
She didn’t know what she would decide. Before this conversation she would have adamantly said no, but now…
perhaps there was another solution. One that they all could live with.
She had to think and perhaps spend more time with the earl.
Only then could she make an informed decision.
“I have three days to decide,” she said to make it all clear.
“If I meet you at the altar, you will know what I want.”
“If you don’t,” he said. “That will be an answer too. I agree. In the meantime, why don’t you all settle in. We will speak again at dinner.”
With those words the earl left them alone.
Elena even more confused than ever, and Rowan gawking at her as if she had grown a second, or even third, head.
This was not what either of them had expected, and surely Rowan would have questions later.
Once they did not have Lady Peregrine around to offer up her opinions on the matter.
She doubted she would have the answers her friend sought, but she hoped to gain some clarity before her upcoming wedding.
This was one decision she wished she had more time to make, but fate had not given her that luxury.