Chapter Seven

Seren's heart leapt as she excused herself from tea with her aunt. It had been a few days since her debut ball, and that was the first afternoon where she hadn't been bombarded by suitors. She had intended to enjoy tea and a walk through the gardens with Imogen to tell her all about her feelings regarding Lord Hawthorne, whom she had seen thrice more since his first visit to her family's townhouse. But when her father summoned her to his study, she wondered if the marquess's son had come to make an offer for courtship.

She smiled at the thought. He had certainly gained her attention, and she was more thrilled than ever at the prospect of getting to know Lord Hawthorne better. If he had come to ask her father's permission to court her, she would accept without hesitation. She allowed herself to picture his handsome face and brilliant green eyes, smiling at her as he formally asked her to be his lover. Her cheeks grew warm, and her smile widened to an impossible size.

However, when she entered her father's study, the butterflies in her stomach turned into a knot of dread. It was not Lord Hawthorne who sat with the earl. It was the Duke of Dalenwood. And his expression was solemn and tense. His presence was as unwelcome as it was unexpected. She could not fathom why he had come, or why her father had summoned her while he was there. But she intended to get the matter concluded as quickly as possible.

"Your Grace," she said, dipping into a stiff curtsey. "What a surprise."

"Lady Serena," he said. His tone was the same as it had been the night of her ball. The knot in her belly tightened as she looked at her father expectantly.

"Serena, darling, come sit with us," he said, pointing to an empty chair beside the duke. Reluctantly, Serena complied with her father's request, sitting beside the Duke, pressing herself against the side of the chair furthest away from him. Her mind raced as she awaited an explanation from the two men. She focused all her energy into keeping her composure as she looked at her father, trying not to let the unnerving quiet of the room rattle her.

After what felt like an eternity, her father broke the silence.

"I've summoned you here to give you some important news," he said, his voice strained. "I have made an agreement with His Grace for an arranged marriage between the two of you, the terms of which have just been finalised."

"What?" she asked. She felt the color drain from her face as her father's words struck her like a physical blow. She blinked, trying to understand what her father had just said to her. She had heard his words. But it took a moment for the true gravity of their meaning to register to her. Once they did, however, her chest constricted as disbelief gave way to sheer panic.

She studied her father's face, praying to see some sign that she had misunderstood. When she found nothing but regret and shame, however, she swallowed, her dry throat aching with the effort.

The earl did not look at her as he drained the alcohol in his glass. When it was empty, he placed it on the desk, glancing only at the Duke as he spoke again.

"We just signed the final agreement," he said. "Your dowry has been adjusted to reflect the status of the Duke, and we have both signed the papers. You are to be married within the week, per a special license, which His Grace will be obtaining at his earliest convenience. Outside of the terms of the agreement, you are free to organise your wedding as you see fit. I am sure that Imogen will help you, and the two of you have my permission to spend as much money as you need."

Serena stared at her father dumbly, barely hearing what he was saying. She had already heard the important part of what he was saying. He was truly about to force her into a marriage with a man she could barely stand. Her world tilted, and she feared that she would swoon. All her carefully nurtured, lifelong dreams of having a proper courtship, a beautiful traditional wedding and genuine love and affection forming over time and borne of a match made for love had been shattered in a matter of seconds. By her own father, no less.

She shook her head as though she could magically reject and undo her father's decision. The earl still would not look at his daughter, turning his back to fetch the whiskey and pour himself another drink. Feeling lost and helpless, she rose, bracing herself against the desk as her knees trembled. She turned to the Duke, hoping to see some flicker of warmth or understanding in his eyes. Yet while he met her gaze, unlike her father, there was nothing but his signature cool distance there, with his overall expression unreadable. She tried to will herself to speak, but still no words would come.

"I believe I should allow the two of you to speak," the duke said, rising from his seat and bowing to Serena and her father. "Thank you, Lord Yardley, for concluding this matter with me. I shall go first thing tomorrow to get the license. Farewell, my lord." He paused, glancing at Serena from the side of his vision. "Good day to you, Lady Serena."

Serena stared at him as he left the study, feeling more isolated and bereft than ever before. She desperately wanted to find some source of comfort. But as the study door closed behind the duke, she understood that she was on her own.

"Father," she said, turning back to the earl. "Why are you doing this? Why would you arrange a marriage and not so much as ask about my feelings?"

The earl shook his head, still not looking at his daughter.

"It is for the best, darling," he said, sounding as though it was anything but best.

Serena scoffed, shaking her head.

"How can it be for the best for you to make such a rash decision?" she asked. She hated how whiny her voice was beginning to sound. But she also couldn't help feeling petulant and wounded. "I was just named the season's diamond. Surely, you did not think that I would have trouble finding a husband."

The earl shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

"Of course not, Serena," he said. "I am aware that you would be perfectly capable of attracting a good husband."

Serena huffed again.

"Then why did you make the choice for me?" she asked, her voice rising as her panic grew. "And why on earth did you choose the one man in all of London whose very presence unnerves me to my soul?"

The earl looked at her, his eyes filling with realization. For a moment, Serena thought she had gotten her father to see reason. But he just looked away quickly, shaking his head again.

"Darling, this will be the best match for you," he said. "You and the Duke hardly know each other. That will change, and you will see it's for the best."

Serena threw up her hands, beginning to pace in the study.

"That's just the trouble," she said. "I hardly know the Duke of Dalenwood. And what I do know of him is hardly flattering. This cannot possibly be the best match for me when he can barely stand to sit beside me for a few moments."

Her father sighed, looking older and more tired than Serena had ever seen him.

"Serena, the decision is made," he said. The words were authoritative, but his tone was as weary as his face. "You must marry, and marry well, to ensure that you and your family will be taken care of. This is your duty, Daughter. You know it as well as I do."

Serena stared at her father numbly. She knew she was meant to marry well. And Lord Hawthorne would have satisfied that requirement in every respect, even before he inherited the title of marquess from his father. And yet, her father had not even given her the chance to tell him about any such prospects for her.

"Father, please, tell me why it is so important that I marry the Duke of Dalenwood specifically," she said. "You took away my ability to choose my husband. You owe me an explanation. Please?"

The earl sighed, shaking his head once more, but he did not open his mouth to speak again. Instead, he stared at the stack of papers that bound her to the duke of Dalenwood for the rest of her life. When it became clear that she would get nothing from her father but vague platitudes and reminders of her familial duty, she swallowed a sob and fled from the study. If her father would not grant her an explanation as to why he had dashed her dreams and broken her heart so cruelly, she would no longer grant him the pleasure of an audience with her.

The world seemed to close in around her, the once lovely and vibrant furniture now seeming as dull and lifeless as her dying dreams were. All around her the comfort of the home she had always loved began to vanish, replaced by an ever-growing void of uncertainty. She ran blindly through the halls, uncertain where she was even going until she heard her aunt's voice coming from the music room. She plunged forward, barging in through the open door and interrupting a lovely song.

"Aunt…," she gasped, throwing herself at Imogen.

The motherly figure stood just in time to catch Serena as she collapsed in her arms in tears.

"My heavens, darling, what has happened?" she asked.

Serena sobbed and sniffled, fighting to find her voice. When she could finally speak, she explained everything that had just happened in her father's study. She poured out her grief and shock, not as much allowing her tears to flow as being unable to stop them as she spoke.

"Sweetheart, it will be all right," Imogen said, stroking her niece's hair as she tried to soothe her.

Serena didn't believe her aunt's words, as Imogen didn't sound any more certain than Serena herself felt.

"No, it will not," she said, sobbing once more. "Why would Father do this? I was named diamond. It is not as though I will lack for options for marriage. Why would he take away my ability to choose my own husband?"

Imogen pulled away, keeping Serena's face cupped in her hands. Her eyes were filled with concern. But there was also a confusion that matched Serena's own.

"I cannot say, my darling," she said. "But I do know that your father only wants the best for you. Perhaps, there is something about this arrangement that will be of more benefit than anything any other gentleman could ever offer you."

Serena choked on another sob.

"But how can he not see that me choosing the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life instead of him doing the choosing is what is best?" she asked. She knew she sounded petulant. But in that moment, she did not care. Her father had decided the rest of her life for her, without finding out what she might want. If there was ever a time a young lady deserved to sound a little upset in the comfort and privacy of her own home, it was then.

Imogen pulled her close again and was silent for a moment. When she pulled away again, her eyes were loving and warm, and there was reassurance fighting its way through the bewilderment and sorrow.

"I know this does not make any sense," she said. "But you must trust that your father knows what he is doing. Even if you cannot see it, he must have very good reason for doing this. And try to remember that you can still find a happy life, even in an arranged marriage. It takes time and work, but anyone can grow to love one another."

Serena nodded, but she felt more dejected than before. It was utterly impossible that she could ever love someone as cold and distant as the duke. It was equally absurd that someone like him could ever love her. Or anyone, for that matter, she thought bitterly as she wiped her tears away. Her aunt was doing her best to be comforting, and Serena was grateful. But she was trying to make a horrible situation positive. What she was suggesting was simply not realistic. And despite the warmth she felt in her aunt's arms and efforts to ease her mind, she still found herself wishing that her mother was still alive. She needed a kind of comfort that only her mother could have provided.

"I think I would like to be alone now, Aunt Imogen," she said. She gave her aunt a small, apologetic smile, which was met with an expression of pity and sadness.

"I understand, darling," Imogen said. "I will be in the parlour if you need me again later."

Serena nodded as her aunt kissed her cheeks. Once Imogen was gone from the room, Serena slipped out into the hall, wandering toward the drawing room. Once inside, she closed and locked the door, facing a familiar portrait. She approached the painting, her heart breaking into even more pieces.

As Serena stood before the image of her mother, fresh tears filled her eyes. Her vision blurred as she stared at the familiar warm smile and gentle eyes, so much like her own, that portrayed the love that her mother had always embodied. She adored her Aunt Imogen, and she wouldn't trade her years with her aunt for anything in the world.

But in that moment, she wished with everything within her that her mother was still there. Maybe she could have talked some sense into her father. And she certainly would have been able to guide her and shield her from the cruelly unexpected twist in a fate about which she had been excited just earlier that morning. What had she done to deserve such injustice?