"Your Grace," she said, looking at the Duke, "yesterday you said you needed a wife without illusions. Someone who would not expect affection from you." "Yes," he said. "And you offer honesty rather than romance."
"I do." Rosalyn lifted her chin. "Then I will offer the same. I do not know if I can trust you."
"I do not know if you are cold or simply guarded. I do not know if we can build anything together, but I know what awaits me if I stay here. I know what my life becomes without this choice, and I cannot return to that." The Duke watched her steadily.
"Then you accept." Her father looked horrified. "Rosalyn." She nodded once, firmly.
"Yes, I accept." She expected a flicker of satisfaction on the Duke's face, some sign of victory, but all she saw was a brief, unreadable softness, a small shift in his expression, gone in an instant. Her father exhaled sharply. "The banns must be read."
"Preparations must be made." The Duke shook his head. "No banns. I request a special license."
Rosalyn blinked. "So soon?" "Yes," he said. "If we delay, pressure upon you will grow, and I will not allow you to suffer more scrutiny."
Her father looked between them helplessly. "This is madness." "It is decided," the Duke said. Rosalyn felt a strange, twisting mix of fear and relief.
A door had opened, and she had stepped through it. There was no going back. The Duke bowed to her father. "I will return tomorrow with the license."
He then turned to Rosalyn. "You will need to prepare. Your life will change quickly." Her voice wavered just a little.
"I know." He paused, studying her face. "If anything troubles you before the wedding, you may send word. I will come."
Her breath hitched at the promise. "Thank you." He stepped toward the door, stopping only once. "Do not fear what you cannot yet see, Lady Rosalyn."
And then he was gone, leaving the sunlight trembling across the floor. Her father sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. Her mother entered moments later. Rosalyn stood motionless, her heart beating fast, her mind spinning with what she had just agreed to.
But one thing was clear. She was no longer trapped. She was walking into something unknown. Something cold and uncertain.
Something that might break her or save her. As the door closed behind the Duke, Rosalyn felt the weight of her decision settle into her bones. Her life would never be the same. The day of the wedding arrived faster than any heartbeat.
Rosalyn stood in her room while her maid laced the back of her gown. The dress was simple cream silk, chosen by her mother in a rush. There were no months of fittings, no endless lists, no parades of guests, only a quiet ceremony with a few witnesses arranged under the Duke's strict conditions. Outside, carriages rolled past the window.