Rosamund
The Duke.
He was the Duke.
The words echoed through my mind like a bell struck too hard. I stared at the man standing before me, at the mask that concealed everything except those pale, unreadable eyes, and felt the floor tilt beneath my feet.
My father had brought me here tonight, dressed me up. Told me I looked beautiful. And all of it — every smile, every kind word, every lingering glance that made me believe he actually wanted me — had been a transaction.
He hadn't come looking for his daughter. He had come to make a delivery.
My throat tightened. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to grab the nearest thing and hurl it at the wall. But my body wouldn't cooperate. It just stood there, frozen, like a deer caught between the hunter's bow and the edge of a cliff.
Say something. I told myself. Move. Do something.
But what was there to do? My father— the man I had spent nineteen years dreaming about— had just handed me over like a parcel. And the man standing in front of me owned me now.
"We should leave."
The Duke's voice cut through the fog in my head. His voice was not unkind, but his tone left no room for argument.
"If we depart now, he continued, "we'll arrive at Wellspring before dawn."
Wellspring. His estate. He wanted to take me tonight.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My legs moved before my mind gave permission, and I found myself following him out of the room, down the corridor, past the faint hum of music and laughter seeping through the walls from the ballroom beyond.
This is really happening.
The night air hit my face when we stepped outside, carrying the faint scent of rain. A black carriage waited at the front, sleek and polished, drawn by two dark horses. A coachman sat perched above, and beside the carriage door stood Jennifer, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
The Duke reached the carriage door and extended his hand to help me in.
That was when something clicked in my brain, snapping me back to the present.
Without thinking, I grabbed his arm instead and flinched. I was shocked by how cold his skin was. At this point, I knew it couldn't be because he'd been standing in the evening air. This coldness was unnatural. It felt like pressing your palm against stone that had never seen sunlight.
He turned to me slowly, and even without seeing his full expression, I could feel his attention sharpen.
"What is it?"
I swallowed hard. My hand was trembling, but I didn't let go.
"I… I can't…" I stuttered. "I don't want to go."
Silence.
The coachman shifted in his seat. Jennifer raised one eyebrow.
The Duke studied me for a long moment, then spoke with a measured tone.
"I understand that all of this is new to you. Your father didn't give you the details he should have, and I recognise that. That was his failure, not yours. But I assure you, you will be cared for. Everything you need will be provided. You don't need to worry."
"No, you don't understand," I said, shaking my head.
"Excuse me —"
Jennifer's shrill voice cut through the night air as she swept toward us, her burgundy dress catching the light.
"Your father has already agreed to the arrangement," she said, glaring at me. "He has been handsomely compensated despite the Duke not receiving your dowry. From this moment, you belong to His Grace. So I suggest you stop wasting everyone's time and get in the carriage."
"I don't mean any harm, Miss Jennifer," I said quietly, hating the way my voice sounded. "I just cannot leave with the Duke tonight."
Jennifer scoffed. "Do you have any idea how many women would kill for this opportunity? And here you are, negotiating like some common —"
"Jennifer." The Duke cut her mid-sentence. "Let the lady speak."
Jennifer's mouth opened and closed, and for a moment, I thought she might argue, but she fell silent, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
I felt the Duke's attention return to me and seized my chance, my heart thundering against my ribs.
"Tomorrow is my nineteenth birthday," I started, the words tumbling faster now. "Until a few hours ago, I never thought I would see my father again. And all of this —" I gestured helplessly at the carriage, "is so sudden. I'm willing to come with you, Your Grace. I'll do everything that's expected of me. But please, give me five days here. Let me spend time with my father. Then I'll come with you without protest."
Jennifer let out a sharp laugh. "Do you have any idea that it's the Duke of Wellspring you're negotiating with? Do you think His Grace has time to sit around waiting because you're feeling sentimental?"
"This is the first time we're meeting since my mother died and I went to stay with my grandmother," I pleaded. "All I'm asking for is days, and I'll go with the Duke."
"Absolutely not," Jennifer snapped. "The Duke has a schedule and responsibilities. He's not going to rearrange his entire life because of you. You can keep dreaming."
"Jennifer." The Duke's voice turned cold. This time, he turned to her fully. "You're out of line. I will not tell you again."
Jennifer's face went pale, and I could see the fury building behind her expression, but she didn't dare speak again.
The Duke's gaze returned to me, and I held my breath, terrified he would refuse. Then he nods.
"Very well. I will give you three days."
"Your Grace!" Jennifer gasped. "You cannot possibly spend three days away from Wellspring. You have meetings, correspondence, estate matters, the situation with the eastern —"
"It's fine," he cut her off. "I cannot refuse my bride-to-be such a small request."
The word bride sent a shiver through me, but I shook it off and gave him what I hoped was my best smile.
"Thank you," I breathed, and turned to leave.
A hand caught my wrist, making me turn with surprise. It was the Duke.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To— to find my father."
He released me, his lips quirking. "You don't need to do that." He turned to Clyde, standing quietly near the second carriage. "Fetch Lord Fletcher. Tell him we'll be staying at his residence for three days. My fiancée wishes to become acquainted with her family before our wedding."
"At once, Your Grace," Clyde said, already moving.
The Duke gestured toward the carriage. "Get in. We'll go together."
The ride to my father's estate was silent.
I stared out at the dark landscape, my mind churning. Three days. That was all the time I had to understand what had happened, to discover why my father had done this, and to figure out what I was going to do about the stranger sitting beside me in perfect stillness.
There's got to be a way out of this.