Chapter 1

"Lady Caroline…"

Caroline Dright looked up at the sound of her lady's maid's voice, a frown furrowing between her brows.

"Yes, Marian?"

It was a miracle, Caroline knew, that she had a lady's maid to begin with. Had her family had their way, she would have been the only one without one — and as it was, they'd allowed young Marian to be hers quite begrudgingly and only because the girl was — as her sister called her — rather unfortunate looking.

"She's far too ugly to be my servant," Penelope had cried when her father had brought Marian to the house. And it was true — with eyes too big for her head and a thin frame, Marian was certainly no beauty: not like Cecilia, who had become Penelope's lady's maid. But the girl, Caroline soon found, was kind, gentle and smart.

"Your father is looking for you, My Lady," Marian said now, and Caroline's eyes widened. "Whatever do you suppose he wants with me?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"I do not know, My Lady," Marian said softly, looking at her lady with concern. "Shall I walk with you?"

"No," Caroline decided quickly. "Rather not — please wait for me here."

Marian nodded, her eyes cast down, and Caroline took a deep breath before making her way to her father's study with a racing heart. The urgency in her father's summons gnawed at her nerves, leaving her with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She nodded at the man who stood in front of the door and watched silently as he lifted his hand, his knuckles rapping against the wood of the door a few times.

"Enter," the voice of her father drifted through the closed door, and she sighed.

Entering the study, Caroline found her father seated behind his imposing desk, a stern expression etched on his face. His gaze flickered up as she entered, and she couldn't shake the sense that her presence only served to irritate him further.

"You wished to see me, Father?" Caroline ventured, her voice small against the weight of his disapproval.

Her father's response was curt and devoid of warmth. "Yes, Caroline. Sit down."

She obeyed, perching on the edge of a chair opposite him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Without preamble, her father delivered the news that would shatter her world. "You will be married within the month."

Caroline felt as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath her. Married? So soon? She struggled to comprehend the suddenness of it all, her mind racing with questions and objections.

"But, Father, I —" she began, only to be cut off by his sharp tone.

"There is no room for argument, Caroline," he snapped. "This marriage will benefit our family greatly."

Caroline's heart sank as her objections fell on deaf ears. Her father's words stung like a slap in the face. "At last, you will do something good for this family," he added, his words laced with disdain.

"Yes, Father," she agreed softly then sighed. Despite her nerves gnawing, she licked her lips and looked at him earnestly.

"Who…" she started with a racing heart. "Who is it that you wish for me to marry, Father?"

Her father had already busied himself with work again, and he looked up with an almost—bored expression.

"The Duke of Sauton," he announced nonchalantly.

Four words. Four words changed Caroline's entire world, and she made her way out of his study, her entire body trembling.

"You will be a Duchess, Caroline," her father's words followed her into the hall, echoing in her mind when she finally arrived in the safety of her chamber.

"My Lady?"

Marian rushed towards her as she entered, and Caroline shook her head, her face pale. "I cannot," she said simply, pressing her hands over her face and shaking her head.

"I cannot," she repeated and Marian — against all norms — sat down on her bed next to her, a comforting hand on her back.

"What is it, My Lady?" the young girl insisted, and Caroline let out a trembling sigh.

"I am to be married," she said at last, tears forming in her eyes. "To…"

She could not, however, finish the sentence. The reality was simply too awful to bear.

"To whom are you getting married, My Lady?" Marian asked, and Caroline gripped her hand, her eyes wide.

"The Duke of Sauton," she whispered, her voice broken.

Marian's eyes widened at this, and Caroline nodded, her eyes gleaming with tears. Even servants, she could see on Marian's face, had heard the reputation of this man. Benedict Yeats, the Duke of Sauton, was a known recluse and a terrifying figure.

"He… You will be a duchess?" Marian said, offering some hesitant comfort, and Caroline sniffed with a small nod.

"I suppose I will, yes," she agreed — though it was apparent that there was nothing exciting about the prospect in her eyes.

"But I will be a miserable duchess," she whispered tearfully. "One whose husband is cruel and strict and…"

"You don't know that, My Lady," Marian encouraged her quickly. "Yes, the Duke is a known recluse and not much is known about him, but perhaps… perhaps he is kind?"

"Perhaps," Caroline conceded. "Perhaps it will be better than… this."

She gestured around vaguely, her eyes downcast. "Anything will be better than this," she whispered, and Marian leaned forward, taking her hand.

"My Lady," the young girl insisted, her eyes earnest. "You are good. You have a kind heart, and you treat people well. You deserve to be happy, and I know that you will be — perhaps this is your chance."

It was this earnest promise that showed Caroline that her pain had not gone unnoticed, and she gripped Marian's hand, tears forming in her eyes.

"I will plead with him to come and get you," she promised the girl now. "I will do anything I can to get you out of here as well. I promise you."

Marian smiled at Caroline tearfully, and the two squeezed each other's hands. "My Lady," Marian said after a long silence, a frown between her brows, "when is the wedding?"

Only now did Caroline allow herself to remember the harsh words her father had spoken just before she left his study — words she had not allowed herself to pay any mind to at the time but words she was now forced to face.

"A week," she said, her voice a worried whisper. "I am getting married in a week."

A week had passed, and the grand halls of Yeats Manor bustled with activity as preparations for the marriage of Benedict Yeats, Duke of Saunton, were underway. Benedict stood in front of a mirror in his chamber, his expression unreadable as he adjusted the cuffs of his coat. He was to make his way to Augustine Chapel in mere minutes — and all around the manor, servants were preparing for the entrance of a wife.

As he straightened his attire, the door creaked open, and Benedict turned to face the man entering. Jeremy Drowton, the only person he'd allow to be close to him, entered with a grin.

"Ah, there you are, Your Grace," Jeremy said, his tone jovial. "Are you ready for the big day?"

Benedict turned to regard Jeremy with a cool gaze. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," he replied, his voice tinged with indifference.

Jeremy chuckled, crossing the room to stand beside Benedict. "Come now, old friend, this is a momentous occasion. You're about to become a married man."

Benedict's expression remained impassive. "Marriage is hardly a cause for celebration, Jeremy," he remarked dryly. "Especially when one has yet to meet their intended bride."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Ah, so you're still harboring doubts about this union, then?"

Benedict sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Doubts imply that I care one way or another," he replied tersely. "The truth is, I have no interest in this marriage. It's merely a formality. It is something that has to be done. I need an heir — and in order to have an heir, I need a wife. It's a necessity. Nothing more."

Jeremy studied Benedict for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps you'll be pleasantly surprised, Your Grace," he suggested optimistically. "Lady Caroline may turn out to be a charming companion."

Benedict shook his head dismissively. "Charm or no charm, it matters little to me," he stated bluntly. "All I desire is to fulfill my duty and be done with it."

Jeremy sighed, realizing that his attempts to lift Benedict's spirits were futile. "Very well, Your Grace," he conceded. "I shall not press the matter further."

Benedict nodded firmly at this, a frown darkening his face.

"I should get to the chapel," he announced and turned to face Jeremy. "Shall we?"

As Benedict and Jeremy made their way to the awaiting carriage that would transport them to Augustine Chapel, a sense of apprehension hung heavy in the air. The weight of Benedict's impending marriage seemed to cast a shadow over the normally stoic Duke.

On approaching the carriage, Benedict hesitated for a moment, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. "I hope she does not expect love from me," he murmured, almost to himself. "She ought to know, it is something I cannot offer."

Jeremy regarded Benedict with a sympathetic expression, understanding the turmoil that churned beneath his friend's composed facade. "I understand, Your Grace," he replied softly. "But perhaps she will not expect it. Marriage is often a matter of duty rather than love, after all."

Benedict nodded slowly though his expression remained troubled. "It still feels… wrong," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I suppose this is simply how things are done."

Jeremy offered a reassuring smile though his own apprehension mirrored Benedict's. "Indeed, Your Grace," he agreed, his tone somber. "Many do choose this way."

"Yes," Benedict said curtly, averting his eyes and choosing to look out of the window. Jeremy sighed, looking at his friend earnestly. "It is a courageous decision," he insisted. "Despite not being able to offer her love, you are allowing a woman to enter your life — your home. What more could she possibly ask for?"

"Hmm," Benedict muttered, his frown deepening. "What more indeed?"

For a man known for keeping his distance from others, the prospect of welcoming another person into his home was rather daunting. But as they set off towards Augustine Chapel, Benedict knew that there was no turning back now. Soon, within hours, he would be married. And as much as he was adamant that he would not love the woman, there was no denying the reality of his decision.

His life would never be the same again.