“Of courseshe can!” Lady Gooldwer interjected. “She’ll be everything you desire?—”
Blanche cut her off. “I’ll be the duchess you expect—and obey your rules, provided they’re reasonable.”
“Then am I to assume you accept?”
For a moment, all eyes were on Blanche. Tension hung thick as she drew a breath—then nodded slowly, meeting Heath’s gaze.
“Yes. I will marry you.”
Four
“Blanche, are you quite well?” Fanny asked, her voice laced with concern.
“Yes,” Blanche forced a smile, squeezing her sister’s hand. “I’m perfectly well,” she lied through clenched teeth, knowing Fanny could see right through her feeble attempt at reassurance.
For three endless days, her life had been turned upside down. She couldn’t yet determine whether this change would prove fortunate or disastrous, but one thing was certain — there could be no turning back now.
When the Duke of Woodrey had proposed marriage, she’d convinced herself it would be a simple transaction, just as he’d implied. She’d told herself she could endure this for her mother’s sake, and most importantly, for Fanny’s.
Yet now, a treacherous part of her mind kept whispering doubts. Not because of anything the Duke had done—quite the contrary.His behavior since their engagement had been beyond reproach. He’d made good on his word to settle the family’s outstanding debts.
No, what gave her pause was her own mother’s transformation. From the moment the engagement was secured, Lady Gooldwer had become insufferable—lecturing Blanche endlessly about proper comportment to please her future husband, while obsessing over every minute detail of the wedding preparations.
“I beg your forgiveness for speaking out of turn, sister,” Fanny whispered as they pretended to examine silk ribbons. “But are youabsolutelycertain about this decision?”
That afternoon, their mother had insisted they visit the modiste for new gowns to wear at the upcoming ball where Blanche’s engagement would be formally announced.
Though sworn to secrecy per the Duke’s explicit instructions, her mother had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about theirmiraculous salvationto every acquaintance they encountered.
Former friends who’d shunned them for weeks now flocked to their door, desperate for invitations and details.
“I don’t know,” Blanche admitted quietly, watching their mother argue with the dressmaker about lace trim. “Some moments, I’m plagued with doubts.”
“Then don’t go through with it! The Duke may be handsome and well-endowed, but can all the money in the world change your heart? You turned down Bromley, and he had wealth, too.”
At the mention of the Duke, Blanche’s throat turned inexplicably dry.
“Our circumstances have changed,” she said at last. “You know it was either this marriage or utter ruin and disgrace.”
“So you did it for us? You gave up your ideals because Father has abandoned us? There must be another way!” Fanny declared with more bravery than she felt.
“How? The solicitor made it painfully clear we’d soon be forced to give up the estate. So, I’ll marry the Duke. This way, at least you’ll keep your home. You can continue your art lessons with the finest tutors. Perhaps even visit Paris someday?—”
“No privilege in the world is worth sacrificing yourself to a loveless marriage!” Fanny’s eyes brimmed with tears as Blanche grasped her hands fiercely.
“The truth is, women rarely marry for love, dearest. But through this match, I can ensure you might. Perhaps not for me, but I swear to you—one day you’ll wed whomever your heart chooses.”
“I want that same happiness for you,” Fanny whispered, embracing her sister tightly as Blanche fought to maintain her composure.
Inside, Blanche felt like a ship caught in a tempest—terrified yet strangely hopeful. A duke for a husband far exceeded any prospects she’d entertained after five disappointing Seasons.
She reminded herself she needn’t love him—only tolerate his presence. And truth be told, the Duke wasn’t merely devilishly handsome—he possessed a razor-sharp intellect that challenged her own.
Their sparring conversations, though infuriating, stimulated her mind in ways no other suitor had managed. Perhaps that very similarity of temperament explained his unexpected proposal.
This would be a marriage of mutual convenience—his reasons remained opaque, but hers were painfully clear. Most importantly, Fanny would have the choices that Blanche had long relinquished.
“Girls! Must I shout myself hoarse?” Her mother’s shrill voice carried across the modiste’s shop. “The dressmaker requires final measurements, then we’re expected at the jeweler’s, followed by the perfumers! Heavens, the endless preparations!”
