Page 4 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)
She narrowed her eyes at him and gestured around them. “You know that it was the only option. I had to marry you or let you kill my brother or send him to jail.”
“It is a choice, Lady Lydia. When we make a decision, even one we would rather not make, it is still a decision, still a choice on our part. Everything we do is a choice, and there is power in that knowledge.” Archer leaned towards her, rolling his shoulders back as her eyes widened.
He continued, “Everything we do has a consequence. Even the things we long to do have trade-offs. Our marriage is the consequence of your decision to save your brother, and it is my hope that we might both gain something from the arrangement.”
“And what is it you hope to gain from me?” She bit her bottom lip, and Archer could sense her suspicion fading somewhat.
“Nothing of a sordid nature, I assure you. Until my mother passed, she managed most of the day-to-day running of the estate and my household. I am in need of someone to fill that vacancy, and after what you have done with your father’s estate, it is clear you would do a good job of it.”
“You… What do you mean?” She placed a hand on her chest, and Archer felt his eyes follow the gesture and swallowed.
“I looked into you. I know that you managed things before your brother inherited, and that under your stewardship, this place was once thriving.” His eyes fell onto the threadbare nature of her dress and the dust gathering around the house.
She is far too skinny, probably working herself to the bone to undo her brother’s inexperience.
Lydia winced, and Archer continued speaking, “You would gain freedom. I would give you access to funds so that you could run the place as you saw fit, and your dowry would be yours to keep and spend. You would be free to live your life as you chose, within reason of course.”
“In short, I could have anything I wanted?” she teased, a smile creeping onto her face for the first time.
The sight made Archer’s heart quicken. She had a pretty smile; it was only natural that he should note it. He was a man, not a priest.
He nodded to her, trying to hide his own unsettlement. “Anything your heart desired, my own heart being the exception.”
“You have a heart?” She arched an eyebrow at him, the smile still playing at the corner of her lips.
“So I am told.” He shrugged. “You should know that there is one condition to my offer. You will not interfere with my family. You may be friendly with them, but their conduct, their education—that is my concern. Not yours. Do you understand?”
Her face betrayed nothing as she nodded.
“Good.” Archer stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes drifting to Lydia’s worn dress again and the general state of the home. “You will be wanting a dress for the occasion—have the modiste send the bill to me.”
“I do not need your charity, Your Grace.” Lydia stiffened, and Archer could see the wounded pride in her.
He made a dismissive gesture. “It is not charity, My Lady. You are to be a duchess, and you will look the part.” He ran his hand through his hair, furrowing his brow as if in thought. “You should have several dresses commissioned.”
“So you might take your pick of them? Haven’t you heard—it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the day.” Her smile was coy, and Archer’s heart thumped in his chest.
Oh, that fire will get us both in trouble. Archer let his own mouth stretch into a smirk. “Only fools and paupers rely on luck to get by. Your dresses are not just for the wedding but to ensure you have a wardrobe that is befitting of your new station.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Lydia said, “Thank you.”
“You need not thank me. I said that I wanted us both to get something out of this arrangement.” He inclined his head towards her.
“I would say our business is concluded. I will go through the motions of gaining your brother’s consent and arrange for us to be married at the parish church near my estate by special license.
I doubt you wish to prolong our engagement. ”
He noticed a flicker of pain cross Lydia’s face, even as she tried to hide it. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he canted his head towards her. “Is something the matter?”
“It… it is nothing.” Lydia looked away from him.
“Clearly it is not.” Archer pulled his hand to his side before he could reach towards the woman. “Tell me what bothers you.”
Lydia chewed on her lip. “I wish to be married in the Church here, the one in my parish. It meant a lot to my father, and it is where he is buried. Getting married there would feel like he was with me.” Lydia looked at the floor, her shoulders sagging.
“But it will not happen. I asked Landon, and he told me it would be impossible. Apparently, it is wedding season, and the church will not be available for months.”
He took her hand in his without thinking, wanting to turn her attention back to him. Her eyes widened at his touch, and she looked at him quizzically. He grinned at her. “I think you will find, Lady Lydia, that when it comes to me—nothing is impossible.”
And without another word, he swept from the room.