Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

" I n light of the fact that there is no other option, I give my consent," Sebastian said, and Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears.

She stood, frozen, as her uncle's words echoed in her mind. It was one thing to learn that the man responsible for her ruin had fled, abandoning his duty. But now, she was being handed over to that man's brother instead.

"Wait. You cannot simply say that, Uncle," Elizabeth protested, her voice rising in desperation. "I cannot marry the Duke. He didn't... I–"

"May I have a word in private with your niece, Lord Dowshire?" Sterlin's voice interrupted her, firm and unwavering.

Sebastian hesitated, clearly torn. Elizabeth's heart raced. How could her uncle even consider this arrangement? How could she marry a man who wasn't responsible for what had happened?

"Lord Dowshire?" the Duke prompted again.

With reluctance, Sebastian nodded, gesturing for Petunia and Anna to follow him out of the room. Elizabeth felt a surge of panic as they left, leaving her alone with the Duke. The door remained open, but it was small comfort. The reality of the situation loomed large.

The moment the others were gone, Elizabeth rounded on him. "Is this some kind of joke to you, Your Grace?" she demanded.

The Duke remained composed, his expression unreadable. "I just offered to save your reputation and that of your family by taking responsibility for my brother's actions. How is that a joke, Lady Elizabeth?"

"Do not make it sound as though you are doing us a favor," she snapped, though inwardly, she could not deny the truth of his words. He was doing her family a favor, an enormous one, in fact. But the thought only stoked her frustration further. How could she be grateful when this was never the life she wanted? She hadn't asked for this.

"As you wish," he replied, unruffled. "But our marriage would be one of convenience, of course. I will not be accepting your dowry, and your uncle shall receive a monthly stipend from my estate."

Elizabeth recoiled at his words. "We do not need your charity," she replied hotly, her pride bristling at the implication. Was it so obvious to him, the state of their finances? Her uncle had been discreet in his efforts to secure investments, but apparently, word had spread.

Sterlin's eyes met hers, calm and unwavering. "This is not charity, Lady Elizabeth," he said, his tone dry. "The funds are to cover whatever damages this scandal will bring upon your uncle's business. I suspect it will be some time before society is willing to engage in business with him again."

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as the Duke's words hit their mark. The room felt suffocating, her chest tight with the realization that she had no choice but to accept this proposal. As much as her pride flared, as much as she wished to rail against the injustice of it all, she knew the truth.

Accepting it, however, was far more difficult than she could have imagined.

"I understand and accept the monthly stipend," she said, standing as tall as her trembling frame would allow. "But you must take the dowry. It is only proper."

"I do not want it," he replied with a casual shrug, and the ease with which he dismissed her only fueled the irritation she had been struggling to suppress.

Before she could voice her frustration, however, the Duke continued, his tone brisk and authoritative. "I shall secure a special license as soon as possible. The wedding shall be a small affair. Now, do you have any further demands?"

Elizabeth's hands clenched at her sides. The way he spoke—so decisive, so dismissive—ignited a fire within her. Did he think she had no voice in this? That she was to be led like a lamb to the altar without so much as a say in her own fate?

"You cannot just waltz in here and make all the decisions," she snapped, stepping closer to him, her heart pounding with indignation.

Sterlin, however, did not flinch. Instead, he took a deliberate step toward her, closing the distance between them in a single, fluid motion. The suddenness of it startled her, and instinctively, she took a step back. Annoyed with herself for betraying even the slightest hint of anxiety, Elizabeth attempted to hold her ground.

But the Duke advanced once more, until she found herself pressed between his imposing figure and the end table against the wall. His gaze never wavered, locking her in place, his presence overwhelming and commanding.

Elizabeth swallowed, the nearness of him unsettling in ways she hadn't anticipated. His proximity was unnerving, his eyes dark and unreadable as they bore into hers.

"Oh, but I did ask you, Elizabeth, if you had any further demands," he said, his voice low, almost dangerous in its intensity.

Her breath caught, but she quickly found her voice again, weak as it was. "I do not recall giving you leave to address me so informally," she whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

"I do not need it," he replied, his tone smooth, almost predatory. "Not when I intend to make you my bride."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, to retort, but no words came. Her mind betrayed her, scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind. She found herself uncharacteristically speechless, her usual composure crumbling under the weight of his presence. And, despite herself, she couldn't help but notice just how striking he was—his features sharp and undeniably handsome, his gaze magnetic and commanding.

"Now, Elizabeth," he repeated, his voice a quiet rumble as he leaned in closer, the air between them charged with a tension she could not ignore. "What is it that you want ?"

His face hovered mere inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. There was something inscrutable in his gaze, something that drew her in even as her mind screamed to pull away. It was in that moment, as she struggled to maintain her composure, that a wild, irrational thought crossed her mind: perhaps society had mistaken the brothers. Perhaps it was Alexander, not Percy, who was the true rake.

"I want a say," Elizabeth finally managed, pulling her thoughts together with effort. "I want a choice in this whole affair. To be asked ," she added, her voice firm with indignation. She refused to tolerate any more of his domineering commands.

"Very well," the Duke replied without hesitation. "Will you marry me, Lady Elizabeth Sutton?"

Elizabeth blinked, her breath catching. She searched his face, expecting to find some trace of mockery or sarcasm. But as ever, he remained unreadable, his gaze steady, his tone devoid of jest. And she, flustered and overwhelmed, felt her pulse quicken.

"Yes," the word escaped her lips before she could even fully comprehend it, her voice breathless and barely her own.

"Good," he said simply, stepping back from her, retreating from the space that had felt so suffocating just moments ago.

As soon as he departed, the air seemed to shift in the room. Elizabeth stood there, staring after him, still processing what had just transpired.

"Well, that certainly took an unexpected turn," Anna's voice broke through her thoughts.

Elizabeth returned to the drawing room, her mind still reeling, while her uncle went to see the Duke out, likely to finalize the arrangements. The thought of it all being truly settled sent a fresh wave of anxiety through her. Finality with the Duke... She could hardly imagine it.

"But it is for the best," Aunt Petunia chimed in, her tone reassuring. "And I am relieved to know that your future is secure, dear child."

"And thank goodness he is handsome," Anna added with a wry smile.

"Handsome?" Elizabeth let out an indignant snort. "I'll tell you what he is. Exasperating . That is what he is." The frustration from their encounter still simmered inside her, especially when she recalled how he had cornered her by the end table.

"Well, you had best grow accustomed to his exasperating company, as it will be quite permanent now," Anna replied, her voice full of teasing amusement.

"You make it sound so ominous, Anna," Elizabeth muttered, though she couldn't deny the sinking feeling of uncertainty that had taken root within her.

"Reality is ominous, darling," Anna said with a shrug, ever the realist, never one to soften the harsh truths.

"Oh, I am all too familiar with how unfair reality can be," Elizabeth sighed, feeling the weight of it pressing down on her.

"Clearly not enough, if you think your future husband merely exasperating," Anna teased, her words light but holding with the same dry humor that Elizabeth had always found both comforting and irritating in equal measure.

"Oh, you silly girl," Aunt Petunia interjected, shaking her head at Anna's jesting.

"Do not let her trouble you, Lizzy. Once you're married, she'll have no one left to torment," her aunt added, her voice warm with affection.

"Why, but I shall still have you, Auntie," Anna quipped with a grin. "And Peggy too, of course, until she marries and moves away as well."

"You are going to marry too, Anna," Petunia said firmly, though her tone was light, as if the notion were as certain as the sun rising.

""I am three and twenty, Auntie. Wake up from your delusional dreams. Society already deems me on the shelf," Anna laughed, her voice filled with that spirited confidence she always carried. "Besides, if I am to marry one of those dandies who parade about as gentlemen, I'd rather remain gloriously unmarried. A more sprightly spinster you'd never meet!" She added with a proud lift of her chin.

Elizabeth managed a smile, though it felt faint. How she wished she could be as indifferent to her fate as Anna seemed. Her cousin had always been brazen, forward, unconcerned with the opinions of others. It was part of what made her so unpopular among the gentlemen—her refusal to be meek or submissive, her unwillingness to conform.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, had harbored a secret hope that Anna might eventually change her mind, that she would one day marry and that they would still find their happiness. Elizabeth had even made a quiet vow not to marry before Anna did. Yet now, she stood on the precipice of marriage, not for love or companionship, but out of necessity—forced away from the path of spinsterhood she had once imagined walking alongside her cousin.

"I will wager my favorite parasol that you will one day change your mind and enter the parson's mousetrap, Anna," Aunt Petunia teased.

"Only a parasol? How cheap of you, Auntie," Anna shot back, her eyes twinkling. The room burst into laughter, the lightness momentarily lifting the heavy cloud that hung over Elizabeth's heart.

But then, the door opened, and Sebastian returned. His face was solemn, and the laughter quickly faded.

"May I have a word, Elizabeth, dear?" he asked, his tone gentle but serious.

A wave of dread washed over her, the temporary reprieve of humor evaporating. What could it be now? Had the Duke changed his mind? Was she to be jilted yet again?

Nodding, Elizabeth rose and followed her uncle from the room, her heart pounding in her chest. She was surprised when, instead of leading her to his study, he guided her through the French doors and onto the terrace, where the cool air greeted them.

"I thought we might both benefit from some fresh air," Sebastian said, offering her a small smile that did little to ease her nerves.

Elizabeth nodded, though her thoughts swirled with uncertainty.

"I wanted to speak to you, Elizabeth, to offer my sincerest apologies," her uncle began, his voice low and filled with regret. "I fear I have failed you—as your guardian, your uncle, and most importantly, as your father."

Elizabeth's breath caught. "Oh, whyever would you say such a thing, Uncle?" she replied, shocked by the depth of his self-reproach.

"You are anything but a failure. You have been more than Peggy and I could ever ask for," she continued, her voice soft but earnest. She could not bear the thought of him blaming himself for the turn her life had taken.

"But look at you now, Elizabeth. You are about to marry a man you barely know. This was never what I wanted for you, or for Margaret." His voice trembled slightly as he spoke. To him, they were not just his nieces—they were his daughters, and the thought of seeing them sacrificed to circumstance tore at him.

"It is not your fault," Elizabeth said, her voice quiet yet firm. "If anyone is to blame, it is I for being so reckless."

"You couldn't have predicted that a drunken gentleman would stumble into that room, nor that someone would misunderstand what they saw," Sebastian said, his tone filled with the quiet resolve of someone trying to ease the burden of guilt from her shoulders.

"I suppose," Elizabeth murmured, giving a little shrug. "But at least now, with the Duke's offer, our family can walk in society with dignity intact. He has done the honorable thing, even if his brother would not."

Sebastian sighed, his expression still troubled. "The road ahead will not be without its obstacles, Elizabeth. But no matter what life brings, I want you to know you will always have my support. Always."

His hand found hers and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. His love and care were clear in his every word, and it brought a rush of warmth to her heart.

"And you will always have mine, Uncle," Elizabeth whispered, leaning her head gently against his shoulder. "Father would have been proud. And very much grateful," Elizabeth said softly. "Thank you."

"There is no need for gratitude between family," Sebastian dismissed with a wave of his hand, though his expression remained kind. "Despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought us here, I am honored to have you and Margaret in my life."

Elizabeth's heart swelled with affection.

"In the end, I feel comforted by the fact that you are marrying the Duke instead," her uncle said, his tone thoughtful. "It may not seem so at first glance, but he is a man of great honor. He will do right by you, Lizzy."

He reached out and patted her hair fondly, as he so often did when he sought to comfort her, but the weight of his words pressed heavily upon her heart.

I pray you are right, Uncle, Elizabeth thought silently, her unease clinging to her despite her uncle's reassurances.