Their mother regarded them with a tender yet resolute expression. “Practicality is a stern master, but let not duty blind you to the possibility of happiness. A marriage born of love can weather even the harshest storms. And I have to say, I do believe that you and Miss St. Clair seem to be quite match.”
“I came to tell him exactly that,” Leonard grinned.
Alexander rolled his eyes at his brother in a way that their mother wouldn’t notice. “We were merely conversing, nothing more.”
“I would have preferred to have you marry for love, my dear,” his mother said. “But if this is your choice, I am happy that at least, it seems that you have found someone you might grow to love.”
Alexander had no intention of falling in love now or ever. From what he had witnessed, love was not real. It was a constant source of pain and anguish, and he didn’t need it in his life. In fact, he was perfectly fine without it. That was exactly why he had chosen Phyllis. He did not know her. All he knew about her was that she came from a wealthy family, and as such, she could be the anchor to steer his family back to financial stability. If he kept his distance and make this into a marriage of convenience where they both lead separate lives, coexisting solely on a piece of paper. That would be the best for everyone involved.
“Love is too much to be expected, Mother,” he told her earnestly. “I am hoping for mutual respect. After all, not even love itself can thrive without respect, which means that is the most important component of any relationship.”
“Are you really certain about this?” Leonard wondered.
“I am,” Alexander said with all the confidence he had. “My mind is made up.”
“Then, you should take this very seriously,” Leonard advised. “Miss St. Clair seems to be a keen, intelligent young lady. She will need to be wooed properly. Everything will need to be done according to the rules.”
“I have already come to that conclusion myself,” Alexander agreed. “I will do my best to—” he continued, when a knock on the door interrupted him. “Yes?” he called out.
The study’s solemn atmosphere was interrupted by the arrival of a valet, bearing a collection of letters that detailed the intricate web of their family's financial affairs. The missives were a stark reminder of the challenges they faced, the tangible evidence of debts, obligations, and the vast network of responsibilities that rested on Alexander’s shoulders.
With a steely resolve, he took the letters, his jaw tightening as he perused the contents. The weight of their financial struggles pressed upon him, and the realization of the sacrifices demanded for the restoration of their family's honor settled like a heavy cloak.
“Thank you,” he said, dismissing the valet.
No one dared to say anything, although it was obvious what all those letters were. Alexander, undeterred by the daunting challenges that would be laid bare in the letters upon their opening, seemed to find renewed purpose.
“This only strengthens my resolve,” Alexander declared, his voice firm. “We cannot afford half measures or indecision. If Phyllis St. Clair is to be the key to securing our future, then I will court her properly, ensure she understands the gravity of our situation, and persuade her to accept my proposal. It’s not just duty… it is a necessity.”
Both his mother and brother nodded at the same time, understanding the weight of the decisions that loomed on the horizon. The letters, stood as stark symbols of their financial strife, almost taunting him. However, now they served as a catalyst for Alexander’s unwavering commitment to navigate the delicate dance between duty and the uncharted territories of the heart. The pursuit of Phyllis St. Clair would not only be a courtship of practicality but a strategic move in the intricate game of familial legacy. She was his means of reaching the goal he had set out for himself, which was financial stability of his family.
Both Leonard and his mother excused themselves at the same time, leaving him alone, but Alexander could not focus on the letters right this moment. He got up from his leather chair, pacing through his study, towards the window. As he gazed out, he could see Phyllis out in the garden. She was alone, seated on a small bench by the flowering bushes.
Without thinking, he rushed out of his study and down the grand staircase. He reached the estate’s gardens momentarily, with the delicate fragrance of the blooming flowers in the air. As he approached her slowly, unable to take his eyes off her. Hers, strangely, were closed, and her face lifted towards the morning sun, which cast a warm glow on the surroundings as well as herself, seemingly in harmony with the picturesque scene.
“Miss St. Clair?” he called out softly, a part of him not wanting to break the magic of the moment. Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t seem perturbed by his appearance.
“Your Grace,” she said without a smile, but her voice was equally melodious. “I didn’t think you a morning person.”
He was surprised that she seemed far less agreeable than the previous evening. Then again, they were there in front of everyone, especially her father, whom it was obvious, she was trying to appease. Now, he was not here and she did not need to impress anyone. This, however, made him even more determined to win her over.
“There are many surprising things you will come to find out about me,” he said. “Some perhaps even now, if you would do me the honor of accompanying me on a stroll through these charming gardens? I find your company to be a delightful reprieve from the intricacies of business affairs,” he continued, his words laced with a genuine attempt at charm.
Phyllis met his proposition with a polite, yet firm decline. “I appreciate the offer, Your Grace, but I find solace in the solitude of my own thoughts this morning. Perhaps a bit later.”
The rejection, delivered with poise and a rehearsed grace, grated on Alexander’s nerves. Beneath the veneer of his composed exterior, a flicker of irritation sparked. He had expected the courtship to progress smoothly, a means to an end, yet Phyllis’ refusal struck a chord.
“Miss St. Clair, I assure you, the gardens are exquisite this time of day. A brief respite from the formalities could be quite refreshing,” he pressed, his tone maintaining its smooth cadence but with a subtle undercurrent of impatience.
Phyllis, however, remained steadfast in her refusal, her mask of courtesy firmly in place. “Your Grace, I must insist on declining your gracious invitation. I value my solitude.”
As the rejection persisted, an unusual urge simmered within Alexander. The desire to unravel the facade of polite smiles and rehearsed words intensified. He wanted to see beyond the carefully constructed image Phyllis presented, to glimpse the woman beneath the societal decorum.
He was not even close to giving up, but at that moment, he noticed her father and Leonard walking out of the house. Alexander saw this as an opportunity to break through the façade that she presented in the presence of her family. If she was so eager to appease her father, then Alexander might use this to his advantage.
He waited until the two men were within earshot, then, with a subtle glance towards her, he decided to address her once more, this time more loudly.
“Miss St. Clair, would you do me the honor of joining me for a walk through the gardens? There is no place more beautiful in the mornings, but I believe that even the flowers would pale in comparison to the beauty of your company,” he proposed, his eyes keenly observing the restrained nuances of her reaction.
