***
Back at Coleridge House, the explosion was immediate.
"The arrogance!" Robert slammed his fist on the table.
"The condescension!" Henry added.
"The... the cravat!" Edward seemed to have run out of more substantive complaints.
"It was a very nice cravat," their sister said mildly, sinking into her chair.
"You're defending him?" Charles looked aghast.
"I'm observing that he has good taste in neckwear. Though terrible taste in wives, apparently."
"Don't say that," Mrs. Coleridge said firmly. "You're worth ten of him."
"By what measure? Birth? No. Fortune? No. Beauty? Definitely no. Social standing? Let's not even discuss it." She picked up her abandoned teacup but found it cold and set it down again. "He's right to disdain me. By his standards, I'm completely unsuitable."
"His standards are idiotic," Robert declared.
"His standards are what they are. And by tomorrow, I'll be betrothed to them."
"You don't have to!"
"Yes, Robert, I do." She stood, suddenly exhausted. "We all know I do. So let's stop pretending otherwise."
She left them to their continued ranting and climbed the stairs to her room. Tomorrow the Duke of Montclaire would propose to her in their chaotic garden. He'd probably phrase it like a business proposition, she'd accept because she had no choice, and that would be that. The trap would close.
But at least, she thought as she sat at her window, at least he'd been honest. No false promises, no pretended affection. Just two people making the best of an impossible situation.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
***
At Montclaire House, Alexander stood at his study window, staring out at nothing in particular.
"Well?" Frederick appeared in the doorway, having apparently been lying in wait. "How terrible was it?"
"It was..." Alexander paused, searching for words. "Not what I expected."
"Better or worse?"
"Different."
"That's helpfully vague. What's she like then? This Miss Coleridge?"
Alexander considered. "Quiet. Plain. Sharp-tongued when provoked."
"Sounds delightful."
"She told me I was trapped by the same circumstances she was. That I probably lie awake wondering how my life came to this."
Frederick whistled low. "Perceptive little thing."
"She said she could be invisible. That she excels at it."
"Useful skill in a duchess."
