Rosamund
We arrived at Briarwood Manor a few minutes later.
When I had left earlier that evening, the house had felt warm, glowing, full of the nervous promise of a daughter meeting her father for the first time. Now, in the thin light of the carriage lanterns, it looked like what it was — a modest estate, well-kept but tired.
No one stood at the front door. There were no lights in the windows.
Just as the carriage came to a full stop, the front doors opened, and two figures emerged—Mr Gerard, the butler and Madam Theresa.
"Your Grace," Gerard said, bowing deeply. "Welcome to Briarwood Manor. Lord Fletcher had an urgent matter arise this evening and departed to attend to it. He sends his sincerest apologies and assures us he will return shortly. He has instructed us to prepare the east wing for your stay."
The Duke said nothing for a moment. Then, calmly: "That will do."
"Then I'll show you to your room," Gerard said with a smile. "Please come with me."
As Gerard led the Duke to his quarters, Madam Theresa pulled me into a room off the main hall. Her weathered hands gripped my shoulders, and her eyes searched my face.
"My lady," she whispered. "What has happened?"
"Nothing." I forced the word out and tried to smile. "Where is my father?"
"Mr Gerard already explained — he had urgent business in the village. He'll return shortly."
"I know." I nodded, clamping down hard on my lips. "Is there a way I can reach him now? Can someone take me to him?"
Madam Theresa's brow furrowed. "He'll be back, my lady. You don't need to go chasing after him at this hour." She tilted her head, studying me. "You look like you're about to cry. Did something happen with the Duke?"
I shook my head and turned away from her, pressing my fingers against my eyelids. "I just need to speak with my father. That's all. Once I speak with him, everything will be fine."
"Rosamund." Her voice softened as she stepped around me so I couldn't hide my face. "You're shaking. Tell me what happened."
"Nothing happened." I insisted, hating the way my voice sounded. "The Duke was… he was fine. He was a gentleman. I just — I wasn't prepared for —"
I stopped. My throat was closing. If I said another word, the dam would break, and everything I was holding back would come flooding out in front of the one person in this house who had shown me kindness.
Madam Theresa reached out and gently took my hands. "Wasn't prepared for what, child?"
And that was the word that undid me. Child.
"He's going to marry me." The words fell out of me like stones. "The Duke. That's what tonight was. It was not an introduction. It was a transaction. My father gave me to the Duke. I'm to be his bride."
I expected Madam Theresa to gasp. To grab my arms and say, "That's impossible," or "There must be a mistake." I expected shock. Outrage. Anything.
Instead, her hands went still around mine. Her eyes dropped to the floor. And the silence that followed was the loudest sound I had ever heard.
She wasn't surprised.
"You knew?" I pulled my hands free. "You knew that was what was going to happen tonight?"
She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. "Yes."
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. Then another. I pressed my fingers to my mouth, trying to hold in the sound clawing at my throat.
"So all those hours," I whispered. "The dress. The hair. Telling me I looked beautiful. That wasn't for an introduction. It was to present me to the Duke as his wife?"
Madam Theresa stared at the floor for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"I was acting on orders from your father. I didn't have a choice."
"No!" I shook my head. "You could have said something. Give me a hint. I don't know the Duke. I don't belong in this world. How does anyone expect me to ride off in a carriage with a stranger who wears a mask?" I turned away and pressed my palm flat against the wall to steady myself.
"Why?"
Madam Theresa looked up.
"Why would my father go through all of that?" I asked. "He travelled all the way to Hadley Cross. He found me at that boarding house and paid off my debts. He brought me here, gave me clothes, and told me I was his daughter. I thought —" My voice wavered, but I cleared my throat. "I thought he genuinely wanted to find me. So why give me away just like that? The Duke talked about finishing off an arrangement. Did he do it for money? What was in it for him?"
Madam Theresa sighed. "Only your father can give you that answer, my lady."
"I want answers now," I said, my voice rising. "I am not going to marry a stranger, most especially that man. So I need answers."
"You should rest." She moved past me toward the door. "Tomorrow you'll be busy. You're the Duke's fiancée now, and there will be much to prepare."
"Please." I followed after her. "You owe me this much. Why did he do it?"
"Goodnight, my lady."
Without another word, she opened the door and was gone.
I stood alone in the centre of the room, the silence pressing against my skin like something alive. My tears had dried. My hands had stopped shaking. But a single question burned through everything else; louder than the fear and the sting of betrayal.
What exactly did my father trade me for?
~~~
I didn't sleep.
For hours, I turned and tossed in my bed, staring at the ceiling while the house creaked and settled around me.
Every time I closed my eyes, the same images circled back. The masked Duke, the leather case in my father's hands, Madam Theresa's face as she closed the door without answering my question.
By the time the first morning light crept through the curtains, I was already dressed and standing at my door with my hand on the handle.
The hallway was quiet when I came out of my room. The Duke's door across the hall was closed, and no sound came from behind it. I move quickly, choosing to carry my shoes in my hands so I wouldn't wake anyone.
It was only when I arrived at the main corridor that I finally allowed myself to breathe.
The house was barely awake. A young maid carrying a bundle of linens startled when she saw me, dipped into a hasty curtsy, and hurried off without a word. Somewhere deeper in the house, I could hear the faint clatter of the kitchen coming to life.
Taking in a deep breath, I started first to my father's room.
The door was unlocked, so I pushed it open and stepped inside. The bed was made, the curtains were drawn, and everything seemed in place. It was a clear indication that my father hadn't come home last night as he had promised.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, wondering if he had come home and didn't come to his room. Madam Theresa had told me in passing yesterday evening, as she brushed my hair, that my father was always holed up in his study.
I turned and made my way downstairs.
His study was at the end of the ground-floor corridor. It was a small, dark room lined with books that smelled of tobacco and old leather. I had only been inside once, briefly, the day I arrived.
My father had shown it to me with a sweep of his hand and said. "This is where I handle the estate's affairs. You won't need to come in here."
The door was ajar. I pushed it open, but it was empty.
The desk was tidy as always, with only a cup of cold tea sitting on the edge.
I pressed my palms flat against my forehead and tried to think. I had this nagging feeling that my father was avoiding me, and the more I couldn't find him, the louder the thoughts grew.
In any case, I couldn't just sit here and do nothing. So I left the study, intending to find anyone willing to give me information on how to find my father. I walked out of the house and headed for the stone path by the corner that led to the garden.
I was halfway across the garden when I heard voices.
They were coming from the other side of the stone wall that separated the garden from the laundry yard. Two women, maybe three, were speaking in low, hurried tones. It was clear they were gossiping.
I stopped walking and strained my ears to listen.
"…feel sorry for her, honestly," one of them was saying. "She looked so lost when they arrived last night. Like a lamb led to—"
"Shh. Keep your voice down."
"I'm just saying. Poor girl doesn't know what she's marrying into. Every woman the Duke has been engaged to is either dead or gone mad. And she's next."