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“But youdidagree to it, did you not? Was he mistaken? If so, you must tell me at once so that I may remedy the situation. It might not be too late.”

“It is,” she whispered. “There is nothing anyone can do.”

Her father huffed out a breath. “This is precisely why you should listen to me! I am not a silly old man. There was a reason I told you not to agree to anything. Itmighthave been undone if you had insisted on him finishing the conversation with me or if you had but said you would consider it and nothing more. I cannot believe that you?—”

“What is the matter?” A different voice drifted toward Lydia. “Was someone here? I thought I heard a carriage departing. Lydia?”

“I am done for,” Lydia murmured into her palms, blocking out the light, unable to bring her gaze up to her father and sister. They would be so ashamed if they knew.

And to think, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to shock her.

That was, perhaps, her greatest mistake after going into that library alone.

If she had just continued to listen to the boring conversations of the Duchesses, or if she had told Emma at once about what had occurred that night, none of this would have happened. Her powerful duchess of a sister would have put a stop to it before anything could start.

Emma was at her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Lydia? What is wrong?”

“Your former betrothed has asked for her hand, and for reasons I cannot fathom, she has accepted,” their father replied in a defeated tone. “He informed me on his way out as casually as if he were telling me that the post had arrived.”

“Marcus Aston?” Emma asked.

Her second betrothed, and a pleasant sort of gentleman by all accounts, was not at all the kind of fellow who would pursue a lady in the darkness of a library.

Lydia could not see it, but she assumed her father had just shaken his head.

“TheMarquess?” Emma’s voice was a breathy, horrified gasp.

Their father cleared his throat. “He is a duke now.”

“I do not care if he has been crowned the King of England,” Emma retorted. “He is not marrying her. I forbid it. I shall journey back to Silas at once and have him remedy this. No! I shall ride to Eliza. I will have Joanna, Nancy, and Marina gather their husbands and meet us there, and together, we will make William Bewley wish he had not trifled with us.”

Lydia finally peeked out and met her sister’s worried eyes. “It cannot be undone, Sister. I…”

Her mind traveled back to the soft, sultry graze of his lips against hers. How warm they had been, how enticing at the moment, how they had moved as if he meant to keep kissing her.

She thought of how he had grabbed her and pulled her to him, his arm tight around her waist, his whispers dancing across her skin, making her heart race… and not really out of fear.

She shook the thought away, cursing every book she had ever read for corrupting her brain like that. He was a wretch and a weasel; she would not think of him in any other way, not even for a second, even if it meant reading nothing but lengthy histories and other such tomes from now on.

“Lydia, I will not let you suffer such a cruel fate,” Emma promised, taking hold of her little sister’s hands.

“But… it has been agreed. Their wedding is in a week—he has gone to get the license,” their father interjected.

Emma twisted her neck to glare at him. “I do not care if it has been agreed or if he already has the license in hand—it is not happening.” She turned back to Lydia. “If I cannot prevent it prior to the wedding day, I will arrange a carriage with Nora. You will run as I ran, and we shall protect you afterward.”

Nora was Emma’s dearest friend and the woman responsible for helping Emma escape from her wedding to Marcus Aston, the Earl of Portshire—jilted so he could marry the woman thatheloved. At least in theory, for that particular wedding had not yet happened and likely never would, considering the woman he loved was a maid.

“Thetonwould never forgive me,” Lydia whispered, panic swelling in her chest. “All the good fortune you have had will be undone, Emma. They would speak ill of us both if I run. They would speak ill of our family, and I… could not bear that. I will not allow it to happen. I will not let our good name be dragged through the mud.”

Again…she neglected to add.

One look at her father, and Lydia could see the same concerns flashing across his face. He had been through it twice with Emma, weathering the storm of disapproval and outrage thathad ensued. While it was true that Emma had miraculously recovered her reputation andimprovedher standing by finding her love, it was not the sort of miracle that could happen twice in one family.

You can fix this.Come on, think!

“Let them gossip as they please. You have greater protection than I had,” Emma insisted. “They will forgive you because you are young. In a few years, your life will be as you knew it, and I am certain you will find love.”

Lydia flinched inwardly.