Page 12 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
He paused, adjusting his gloves, his expression turning entirely serious. “Before I take my leave, there is one final matter you must know. I have two young daughters.”
Euphemia blinked, her lips parting in surprise.
“I felt it only proper that you learn this from me rather than the gossip columns,” Nathaniel continued flatly. “They reside at my country estate, and their upbringing will remain a priority.”
Euphemia managed a tight, polite nod. “I understand, Your Grace.”
“Good. I shall send my solicitor to your uncle’s estate tomorrow with the papers. Good day, Miss Vane.” With a final, decisive bow, he turned, opened the morning room door, and stepped out into the foyer.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Euphemia alone in the sudden, ringing silence of the room.
She sat completely still, the Duke’s final words echoing in her mind. Suddenly, a wave of clarity washed over her, and the pieces of the puzzle fell perfectly into place.
Thatwas why he had proposed so incredibly fast. It all made sense now. She had been sitting there wondering what on earth a powerful Duke had to gain from marrying a heavily gossiped-about woman like her, but his sudden urgency wasn’t about her reputation at all. It was about his girls. He could never allowa sordid bedroom scandal to ruin his own daughters’ futures before they were even old enough to enter society. He was protecting them.
A small, unexpected warmth blossomed in her chest. ‘He must be a remarkably good father,’she thought to herself, her opinion of the arrogant man shifting just a fraction.
He was entirely willing to shackle himself to a complete stranger, to sacrifice his own precious bachelorhood, simply to ensure that his children’s names were never stained.
Euphemia let out a long, shaky breath and sat down on the velvet settee. The dread in her stomach had softened into a strange, surreal acceptance. The fairy tale was officially dead, but her family’s survival was secure.
Now came the truly terrifying part of the morning. Breaking the news to her sisters, and praying she survived their reaction.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Do you remember when you wanted to trap Theodore in a scandal?” Emily asked, a teasing glint in her eyes as she adjusted the lace of Euphemia’s bridal veil.
Euphemia cringed, her heart doing a painful little flip in her chest. She swatted at Emily’s hand playfully, though her face flushed a deep crimson. “Please do not remind me of that moment, Emily. I beg of you.”
Emily laughed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You had the plan all laid out to you. The confidence too. Remember, you even approached me that evening, telling me that you had eyes on Theodore.”
“Emily!” Euphemia groaned.
It was a memory she desperately wished she could strike from her personal history. A season ago, Theodore’s godmother, Lady Birks, had cornered and had convinced a young, desperateEuphemia that thetonwould never accept her or her sisters unless she secured a high-society alliance. The only way to guarantee that kind of safety, Lady Birks insisted, was to trap Theodore in a compromising position.
At the time, Euphemia had been naive enough to believe that a marriage born of a scandal could eventually turn into real love. Lady Birks was a highly respected figure, and Euphemia had genuinely believed she had no choice but to follow the instructions of her elders to save her family.
But Euphemia could not go through with it. Her courage completely failed her. She simply could not bring herself to cross the threshold. It wasn’t noble.
Euphemia had turned on her heel and fled. Overcome with guilt, she had later sought out Emily, confessing the entire plot and offering an apology. To her absolute surprise, Emily hadn’t banished her, instead, she had respected Euphemia’s honesty, and that disastrous night had become the foundation of their deepest friendship.
“But do you remember that you were never actually able to go through with it? Because your conscience simply wouldn’t allow it?”
“Yes,” Euphemia mumbled, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror.
“Yet, look at you now,” Emily remarked, tapping Euphemia lightly on the chin. “In the end, you ended up in a scandal afterall. A very similar one, at that. Who would have thought the universe would catch up to you anyway?” she teased.
To say Euphemia was nervous was a massive understatement.
She had never been this incredibly tense in her entire life. For the most part, her existence had been a quiet, predictable affair, completely devoid of high-intensity moments. The only time she had ever felt her nerves truly fray was when she first arrived in Mayfair for the season, sick with anxiety over how thetonwould receive her and her sisters after all these years. That had felt like a mountain.
But today? It was the absolute peak of her terrors.
“It’s your wedding day, Effie,” Emily said. “You’re getting married.”
Her hands were shaking so violently that she could barely keep them still, her fingers constantly fiddling with the satin fabric of her skirts. She kept reaching up to rub her collarbone, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to shake, her chest heaving with every shallow breath.
Yet, amid the pure, unadulterated panic, a small sense of relief anchored her. She looked at her reflection, smoothing down the front of her wedding gown. At the very least, her sisters were safe. The match with the Duke of Greymoor would ensure that Seraphina and Leonora would never be ruined because of her mistakes. Her family would survive, even if she had to walk down the aisle toward an absolute stranger to guarantee it.
