ADRIAN SAT AT THE HEAD of the long oak table, his gaze fixed on the pale woman seated across from him. The soft glow of candlelight revealed every fragile line of her face. She was dressed in a gown of delicate blue silk and lace—a fine creation that should have rendered any woman charming—but it did nothing for her.
He could not pretend to find her desirable.
Every movement she made—tentative, uncertain—seemed to remind him of how little he wanted this marriage. He had agreed only because his father's relentless insistence had left him no choice. A union that would strengthen the Duke's standing. But to Adrian, it was nothing more than a gilded chain.
Across from him, Lady Evelina lifted her eyes with visible effort. "Do you stay here alone, Your Grace?" she asked softly, her voice small, trembling slightly as though uncertain of how it would be received.
The question startled him for a moment. Shouldn't she already know that? Any woman engaged to him ought to have been well-informed. His brows knit briefly before he replied, his tone cool but civil. "I thought my lady already knew that."
Colour rose in her cheeks, and she quickly dropped her gaze. "Yes—of course. I only meant to ask, Your Grace."
He watched her fumble, and the faintest flicker of confusion crossed his mind. Strange. The Lady Evelina he heard of would never stammer so. She would have spoken boldly, perhaps even with disdain. Yet the woman before him now was timid, careful—almost meek.
To ease the awkwardness he had created, he added, in a quieter tone, "Well, I am alone. My sister, who used to reside here, has gone to live with my father."
She nodded, her voice barely audible. "Yes… I knew that."
"Please," he gestured lightly toward her plate, "eat."
She obeyed at once, lifting her spoon with delicate hands. Adrian noticed how she hesitated before every bite, as though afraid of doing something wrong. Her movements lacked the natural grace of a lady raised among refinement.
"You do not eat much," he remarked after a pause, his gaze steady. "Is the food not to your liking?"
Her hand froze. Slowly, she raised her eyes to him, only to lower them again. "It is, Your Grace."
"Then why do you eat as though it displeases you?"
"I—I do not feel very hungry," she murmured, clasping her hands together.
He inclined his head slightly. "Understandable. It must be tiring, adjusting to a new home."
A silence settled between them—thick, uneasy. The clinking of silver and the soft crackle of fire were the only sounds in the room.
After a while, he spoke again, his tone softened by reluctant civility. "You may call me Adrian, you know. There is no need for such formality when we are soon to be joined in marriage."
She hesitated, as if uncertain whether she had heard correctly. Then, in a whisper, "Okay… Adrian."
The sound of his name on her lips startled him more than he cared to admit. There was no artifice in her voice—only sincerity, and perhaps a little fear.
For a moment, he almost pitied her. Almost.
He cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair. "Lady Evelina, I wished to discuss the matter of our wedding."
Her spoon halted midway to her lips. "The wedding?"
"Yes." His gaze held hers. "I believe you do not desire this union any more than I do."
She blinked rapidly, uncertainty clouding her features. "I… do not have a say, Your Grace."
"Adrian," he corrected, almost absently.
"Adrian," she repeated softly, her head bowed.
He exhaled and leaned forward slightly. "I have been thinking of a proposition—one that I believe might suit us both. I would like to suggest a… temporary arrangement. A marriage that shall last only until my father's expectations are met. After that, you will be free to live your life as you wish."
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly in shock. "What?"
He met her gaze calmly, as though discussing nothing more consequential than the weather. "We shall remain married for a time—say, six months—until I can quiet my father's ambitions. When that is done, I will grant you your freedom, along with a sum sufficient for your comfort."
She stared at him, utterly bewildered. "I do not understand."
"I have never been a man fond of arrangements born of duty," he said evenly. "Nor of loveless bonds. I believe in… something truer. If I cannot have that, then I will at least have my honesty." He paused, studying her closely. "And I imagine you, too, would rather not be bound to a man you do not love."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Inside, Clara's thoughts spun wildly. A temporary marriage? Freedom? The words sounded almost too good to be true. She had dreaded a lifetime living under another woman's name, deceiving him day after day. But this—this could save her.
"You would… truly let me go?" she asked softly, almost afraid the question would shatter the fragile hope forming in her chest.
"I would," he replied simply.
"But… why? Is this not what custom demands?"
"It is," he said, his tone gentling. "But I find that custom and happiness seldom walk hand in hand. I would rather you have your freedom than be miserable by my side."
Her heart lifted. She could scarcely contain her relief. 'Six months,' she thought, 'and then she will be free. She would return to her mother. To her life.'
"You are truly willing to grant me that freedom?" she asked again, her voice trembling between disbelief and joy.
He inclined his head. "I am."
For a moment, neither spoke. The fire crackled softly, casting warm light over the table.
Finally, he said, "Do you agree to this arrangement, Lady Evelina?"
She nodded before her mind could even form words. "Yes—yes, I agree."
He raised a brow at her quick answer but did not question it. "Very well, then." His voice softened. "Please, eat before your food grows cold."
Clara smiled—truly smiled—for the first time since entering his home. It transformed her pale face, lighting it with a kind of quiet beauty that startled even him. It became apparent that her physical features could be improved upon, perhaps by some food.
"Of course, Your Grace," she smiled, the old formality slipping back unthinkingly.
But this time, he did not correct her. He merely watched her in silence as she ate her food.