Phyllis did her best to smile, although she considered herself far from a fortunate young lady. Still, she knew better than to outwardly disagree with her father.
“The duke and his family are quite revered,” her father added, as if he had not said that a million times before.
“But what about the rumors, Father?” Phyllis blurted out without thinking.
Her father’s face immediately turned grave. “I thought I taught you girls better than to believe in rumors.”
“Where there is smoke, there is fire,” Phyllis was adamant. She did agree to all of this, but she wanted her father to know that she still had a good head on her shoulders, and she could use it very well.
“You know as well as I do, Phyllis, that people on high positions in society, especially those such as the esteemed Woldaves family, are always in the public eye and to every handful of well-wishers, there are twice as many people wanting to see them fall.”
Phyllis didn’t say anything to that. Her father’s words were partly true. Rumors were not always the truth. Sometimes they were truly the result of malicious tongues. But sometimes, there was a kindle that started that fire.
“You just leave everything to me,” he assured her. “And focus on charming your future husband.”
The rumors about the duke’s financial troubles still echoed in Phyllis’ mind, but she pushed them aside, reminding herself that this marriage was a means to an end, a sacrifice for her sister’s love. The rolling hills and sprawling landscape outside seemed to reflect the undulating emotions within the carriage.
As the carriage continued its journey toward the Woldaves estate, Phyllis’ thoughts drifted back to the events of the past couple of weeks. The correspondence between the families had culminated in an agreement for a union between her and Alexander. The decision had been made, and now they were enroute to spend time at the Woldaves estate, allowing the families to acquaint themselves with each other before the formal engagement.
Phyllis recalled the delicate negotiations, the exchanged letters outlining the terms of the union, and the careful consideration given to the compatibility of their families. The prospect of spending time together at the estate was both daunting and intriguing. It was a time for the families to observe and understand each other, laying the foundation for a future built on mutual respect and understanding.
“Remember, girls, this visit is crucial for both families,” their father broke the silence that reigned inside the carriage. “Behave yourselves, show respect and make a favorable impression. I expect nothing less than exemplary conduct from both of you.”
His instructions hung in the air, heavy with the weight of familial expectations. Phyllis, well-acquainted with her father’s strict demeanor, nodded solemnly, acknowledging the gravity of his words. Joyce, though equally aware, cast a nervous glance at Phyllis, silently sharing the apprehension that clung to the air.
Seeing that neither of the girls replied, their father continued. “This union is not just about your individual happiness, but the reputation and standing of our family.”
Phyllis, drawing on her understanding of societal expectations as well as her father’s, replied, “I assure you, Father, that we will conduct ourselves with utmost propriety.”
Joyce seemed much more apprehensive than her sister, but she also added her assurance. “We will do our best, Father.”
With that, the carriage rolled to a stop, and the St. Clair sisters, prepared to face the scrutiny of their hosts, stepped out onto the grounds of the imposing Woldaves estate. The weight of her father’s expectations and her sister’s wishes hung over Phyllis as they dismounted the carriage, embarking on this crucial meeting that would shape the course of her destiny.
As they were led inside by a commendable butler, Phyllis tried to calm down her breathing. The Woldaves estate exuded an air of aristocratic grandeur as the St. Clair family were led through its corridors. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, depicting scenes of bygone eras, while the soft glow of chandeliers cast an elegant radiance on the polished marble floors beneath their feet. Elaborate furnishings, a testament to the family's wealth and taste, adorned the hallways.
Their footsteps echoed through the vast hallways, and as they approached the drawing room, the anticipation of the impending meeting lingered in the air. The door, adorned with intricate carvings, opened to reveal a room bathed in soft hues. Plush velvet chairs, arranged in a semi-circle, invited guests to engage in genteel conversation, while a grand piano stood proudly in one corner, a symbol of the refined tastes of the Woldaves family. Phyllis wondered if the rumors were really true. Perhaps not.
As Phyllis entered the drawing room, she was met with the curious gazes of the Woldaves family members. Eliza Gale, the Dowager Duchess of Woldaves, embodied timeless elegance. At fifty, her grace and beauty seemed to defy the passage of years. Her hazel eyes, framed by gentle lines that spoke of a life rich with experiences, sparkled with intelligence and warmth as she welcomed them.
“Ah, the St. Clair family! Finally, the moment has come for us to be together, under the same roof!” Eliza’s smile, warm and welcoming, seemed to carry the wisdom of a woman who had navigated the intricate dance of societal expectations with ease and grace.
Her regal bearing and upright posture spoke of the duchess’ aristocratic lineage, and the subtle rustle of her finely tailored gown accentuated her every movement. The gown, a masterpiece of silk and lace, draped in layers that whispered with each step, showcased a palette of muted hues that complemented her complexion. A delicate string of pearls adorned her neck, adding a touch of sophistication to the ensemble.
“It is an honor to be here, Your Grace,” Phyllis heard her father say, kissing the duchess’ hand reverently, then turning to greet the two young men standing by her side.
Phyllis eyed the younger of the two. Leonard Gale possessed an effortless charm that radiated from every gesture, from the way he smiled and shook Norman St. Clair’s hand to the way he greeted the man’s two daughters. Standing at a moderate height, his lean and athletic frame suggested both vitality and a lively spirit.
Leonard’s golden-brown hair, tousled in a way that hinted at a disregard for strict formality, framed his face in a carefree manner. His complexion, kissed by the sun, bore the healthy glow of outdoor pursuits and a life well-lived. Leonard’s features were defined by a strong jawline and a few faint freckles that added to the boyish charm.
“And this is my son, The Duke of Woldaves, Alexander Gale,” the dowager duchess finally revealed the name that had nestled inside Phyllis’ mind, creating turmoil for the past several weeks.
The Duke of Woldaves, a commanding presence in the drawing room, stood tall and imposing as he bowed only slightly before his guests. His robust physique conveyed strength and authority, dominating the space with an air of aristocratic confidence. His dark brown hair, meticulously groomed, framed a face characterized by strong, chiseled features. A prominent jawline and a straight nose added to the duke’s regal countenance. Dressed in impeccably tailored attire befitting his noble status, the duke’s clothing accentuated both his stature and his refined taste.
“It is a pleasure to finally have you here, Lady Phyllis,” he told her, taking her hand without her even offering it, and bestowing a chaste kiss upon it.
As Phyllis observed him, she couldn’t help but be struck by his alluring presence. She found him strikingly handsome, drawing her in with his magnetism. However, a subtle chill lingered in his smile, a coldness that hinted at a carefully concealed reserve.
“I feel the same way, Your Grace,” Phyllis responded equally politely. Their eyes locked, as if measuring strengths. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the rumors were really true. They had to be. Otherwise, he would not be interested in finding a bride through an arranged marriage.
