Chapter 3 #3
A faint, ironic smile tugged at the corner of Euphemia’s mouth, despite her panic. “Funnily enough, I was just reviewing that exact cosmic failure with my sisters this morning.”
“Splendid,” Nathaniel remarked dryly. “Then we already have something in common. We both agree that your sense of direction is a threat to the realm.”
Euphemia lowered her head, looking down at her hands to hide the blush warming her cheeks.
“Now, to the logistics,” Nathaniel continued.
He straightened up, adjusting his cuffs.
“My mind is entirely made up about this matter. We will be married in a week. I will handle the procurement of the special license myself, and I will handle the scandal sheets too, to ensure the announcement looks like a long-standing, mutual affection rather than a desperate cover-up. You do not need to trouble your head with any of it. I also do not require a dowry. You can do with it as you wish. I only want your hand.”
Euphemia could only nod. The sheer speed at which her life was being rearranged by this man left her completely breathless.
“Very well,” Nathaniel said. “I shall take my leave and allow you to break the news to your family.”
He turned on his heel, his coat sweeping behind him as he began to walk toward the morning room door, clearly ready to put this uncomfortable conversation behind him. But right as his fingers touched the brass handle, he stopped.
He froze, his shoulders tensing, before he slowly turned back around to look at her.
“There is one detail that still puzzles me, Miss Vane,” Nathaniel said, his brow furrowing as he studied her posture.
“You do not want to marry me. I can see it in the way you hold yourself, and frankly, I am unaccustomed to it. A marriage to a man of my standing usually heals all social wounds, yet you look as though I have just sentenced you to the gallows. I am a man who requires absolute clarity, and your profound misery confuses me.”
Euphemia slowly rose to her feet, meeting his sharp gaze. She couldn’t very well admit that she was a romantic at heart, or that she had spent her life dreaming of a genuine love match that had now been thoroughly crushed.
“People simply have different reactions to news, Your Grace,” she replied quietly, keeping her tone respectful but completely honest. “Please do not mistake my demeanor for ungratefulness. I am fully aware of the situation, and I know your offer saves me. In fact, I should apologize to you. I am deeply sorry for roping you into this disaster.”
Nathaniel stared at her, genuinely intrigued.
“Your disappointment is an unexpected variable, Miss Vane,” he murmured, stepping back into the room by a single pace.
He looked as though he wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into the mind of the strange woman standing before him.
Then, he shook his head slightly, his mask clicking back into place.
“However, I shall not probe any further. I have never been a man who meddles in unnecessary mysteries.”
He paused, adjusting his gloves, his expression turning entirely serious. “Before I take my leave, there is one final matter you must know. I have two young daughters.”
Euphemia blinked, her lips parting in surprise.
“I felt it only proper that you learn this from me rather than the gossip columns,” Nathaniel continued flatly. “They reside at my country estate, and their upbringing will remain a priority.”
Euphemia managed a tight, polite nod. “I understand, Your Grace.”
“Good. I shall send my solicitor to your uncle’s estate tomorrow with the papers. Good day, Miss Vane.” With a final, decisive bow, he turned, opened the morning room door, and stepped out into the foyer.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Euphemia alone in the sudden, ringing silence of the room.
She sat completely still, the Duke’s final words echoing in her mind. Suddenly, a wave of clarity washed over her, and the pieces of the puzzle fell perfectly into place.
That was why he had proposed so incredibly fast. It all made sense now.
She had been sitting there wondering what on earth a powerful Duke had to gain from marrying a heavily gossiped-about woman like her, but his sudden urgency wasn’t about her reputation at all.
It was about his girls. He could never allow a sordid bedroom scandal to ruin his own daughters’ futures before they were even old enough to enter society. He was protecting them.
A small, unexpected warmth blossomed in her chest. ‘He must be a remarkably good father,’ she thought to herself, her opinion of the arrogant man shifting just a fraction.
He was entirely willing to shackle himself to a complete stranger, to sacrifice his own precious bachelorhood, simply to ensure that his children’s names were never stained.
Euphemia let out a long, shaky breath and sat down on the velvet settee. The dread in her stomach had softened into a strange, surreal acceptance. The fairy tale was officially dead, but her family’s survival was secure.
Now came the truly terrifying part of the morning. Breaking the news to her sisters, and praying she survived their reaction.