Chapter 4

The moment William left, Lydia collapsed to her knees, slumping forward with her head in her hands. After dreaming of the truest of true loves since she was old enough to read a fairytale, she was to end up with the crooked shrub of a villain instead of the golden hero.

She was to be married to a wretch who snuck around at balls to grab and kiss unsuspecting—and suspecting, according to the scandal sheets—ladies.

It was too much; air and tears locked inside her chest, fighting to get out. So, she kneeled there, rocking back and forth, entirely numb. The enormity of what had just happened would undoubtedly hit her like a rock later, but for now, the bombardment of every emotion at once was canceling each other out.

She did not look up as she heard the sound of footsteps racing toward the study.

"What did I tell you?" her father cried. "What did I say, just before I stepped out of the room?"

"It could not be helped," she whispered, shaking her head. "He had it too well planned."

Her father approached. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head harder, feeling so foolish for all the silly daydreams she had allowed herself to enjoy since the masquerade. He had been a beast all along, even in her imagination, where she had thought she was safe. As for being repulsed by him—if she had not been utterly appalled before, she certainly was now.

"I… I…"

The words would not come out, fear trapping them in her throat. Of all the people in the world, she simply could not tell her father that she had allowed herself to be caught alone with a gentleman. He had warned her so often, implored her to maintain her propriety.

"Do not be like your sister," he had said time and again before Emma had found love and security with Silas. "I would not survive it if you were to bring shame upon us too."

"Lydia, my sweet girl, is there something you are not telling me?" She heard her father move closer. "You can tell me anything, dear one."

She wished that were true.

"His… argument was persuasive," she murmured, praying her father would let the matter go. "I am… just… thinking it through, that is all. I saw no reason to… bring you into the conversation. He said nothing… he had not already said to you, I imagine."

Her father sighed, and she could picture him with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at the realization that his youngest was just as defiant as his eldest.

"But you did agree to it, did you not? Was he mistaken? If so, you must tell me at once so that I may remedy the situation. It might not be too late."

"It is," she whispered. "There is nothing anyone can do."

Her father huffed out a breath. "This is precisely why you should listen to me! I am not a silly old man. There was a reason I told you not to agree to anything. It might have been undone if you had insisted on him finishing the conversation with me or if you had but said you would consider it and nothing more. I cannot believe that you?—"

"What is the matter?" A different voice drifted toward Lydia. "Was someone here? I thought I heard a carriage departing. Lydia?"

"I am done for," Lydia murmured into her palms, blocking out the light, unable to bring her gaze up to her father and sister. They would be so ashamed if they knew.

And to think, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to shock her.

That was, perhaps, her greatest mistake after going into that library alone.

If she had just continued to listen to the boring conversations of the Duchesses, or if she had told Emma at once about what had occurred that night, none of this would have happened. Her powerful duchess of a sister would have put a stop to it before anything could start.

Emma was at her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Lydia? What is wrong?"

"Your former betrothed has asked for her hand, and for reasons I cannot fathom, she has accepted," their father replied in a defeated tone. "He informed me on his way out as casually as if he were telling me that the post had arrived."

"Marcus Aston?" Emma asked.

Her second betrothed, and a pleasant sort of gentleman by all accounts, was not at all the kind of fellow who would pursue a lady in the darkness of a library.

Lydia could not see it, but she assumed her father had just shaken his head.

"The Marquess?" Emma's voice was a breathy, horrified gasp.

Their father cleared his throat. "He is a duke now."

"I do not care if he has been crowned the King of England," Emma retorted. "He is not marrying her. I forbid it. I shall journey back to Silas at once and have him remedy this. No! I shall ride to Eliza. I will have Joanna, Nancy, and Marina gather their husbands and meet us there, and together, we will make William Bewley wish he had not trifled with us."

Lydia finally peeked out and met her sister's worried eyes. "It cannot be undone, Sister. I…"

Her mind traveled back to the soft, sultry graze of his lips against hers. How warm they had been, how enticing at the moment, how they had moved as if he meant to keep kissing her.

She thought of how he had grabbed her and pulled her to him, his arm tight around her waist, his whispers dancing across her skin, making her heart race… and not really out of fear.

She shook the thought away, cursing every book she had ever read for corrupting her brain like that. He was a wretch and a weasel; she would not think of him in any other way, not even for a second, even if it meant reading nothing but lengthy histories and other such tomes from now on.

"Lydia, I will not let you suffer such a cruel fate," Emma promised, taking hold of her little sister's hands.

"But… it has been agreed. Their wedding is in a week—he has gone to get the license," their father interjected.

Emma twisted her neck to glare at him. "I do not care if it has been agreed or if he already has the license in hand—it is not happening." She turned back to Lydia. "If I cannot prevent it prior to the wedding day, I will arrange a carriage with Nora. You will run as I ran, and we shall protect you afterward."

Nora was Emma's dearest friend and the woman responsible for helping Emma escape from her wedding to Marcus Aston, the Earl of Portshire—jilted so he could marry the woman that he loved. At least in theory, for that particular wedding had not yet happened and likely never would, considering the woman he loved was a maid.

"The ton would never forgive me," Lydia whispered, panic swelling in her chest. "All the good fortune you have had will be undone, Emma. They would speak ill of us both if I run. They would speak ill of our family, and I… could not bear that. I will not allow it to happen. I will not let our good name be dragged through the mud."

Again… she neglected to add.

One look at her father, and Lydia could see the same concerns flashing across his face. He had been through it twice with Emma, weathering the storm of disapproval and outrage that had ensued. While it was true that Emma had miraculously recovered her reputation and improved her standing by finding her love, it was not the sort of miracle that could happen twice in one family.

You can fix this. Come on, think!

"Let them gossip as they please. You have greater protection than I had," Emma insisted. "They will forgive you because you are young. In a few years, your life will be as you knew it, and I am certain you will find love."

Lydia flinched inwardly.

Because I am young… because I am a silly child, because I do not know anything.

But she had not stumbled into this out of foolishness; she had been minding her own business when William had roped her into his plans. This was all his fault, and she would see him punished without any harm befalling the standing of her family.

After all, she had warned him not to cross paths with her again. She would make him regret these actions, and she would do it by herself so that no one ever got to make her feel like an idiotic child again.

"I do not need you to save me, Emma, though I thank you for the offer," she said, emboldened. "Indeed, it is you—my family—who need saving. Being married to a duke will further improve public opinion, it will ease our parents' worries, and I assure you, it will be to all of our benefit. I know what I am doing."

Rather, I am not the foolish girl you believe I am.

Emma furrowed her brow. "Lydia, I think?—"

Lydia interrupted, lowering her voice so only her sister could hear. "Don't worry, Sister. I am going to get this marriage annulled," she said, brimming with determination. "Better yet, I intend to make him do it for me."