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“I have yellow roses, if you’d prefer?” Holly said. “They might complement your dress better.”

“I do not think it matters much,” Teresa replied, catching sight of her sisters in the reflection of the vanity’s mirror.

They stood off to one side, by the bedchamber window, deep in whispered discussion. Both were already dressed for the occasion, and Teresa watched their animated expressions, struggling to read their lips as they spoke. Whatever they were saying, it was not good. Indeed, Prudence looked close to tears, and Teresa could not remember the last time she had seen her younger sister cry. Nor could she recall a time when anything had scared Prudence, yet fear was etched upon her round, doll-like face.

“My ears are burning,” Teresa said in a falsely cheery voice. “What are you two babbling about over there?”

The sisters—the oldest and the youngest—turned together, mirrored in their unease, both of them looking as tired as Teresa felt.

“I was just telling Pru that Edmund has recently purchased a small residence by the sea,” Isolde said, her words stilted. “I thought, perhaps, you might make use of it.”

Teresa frowned. “For a honeymoon?”

“Um… no, not quite,” Isolde replied. “We… well, we are not certain you should proceed with this. You could live by the sea, and Edmund and I would protect you, and you know what society is like—all of this will be forgotten in a couple of years, and I am certain Edmund and his friends will be able to find someone nice for you to wed, once everything has died down.”

Prudence nodded, fidgeting with the cuff of her long-sleeved dress. “He is the wrong kind of mysterious, Tessie. If I must give up my own debut into society so that you can be spared, I will do so gladly. Heavens,Iwill come and live by the sea with you, and we can be merry spinsters together.” Her throat bobbed. “I would not mind that one bit, as long as you are safe.”

Their palpable fear vibrated through the air, thrumming between Teresa’s ribs to judder against her heart and squeeze her lungs into a suffocating tightness. All week, she had been coming up with plans of escape, from the simple to the outlandish, but each one crumbled into the same conclusion: she would be dragged back and made to marry him, or jilting him would turn her situation from terrible to catastrophic.

“No one seems to know much about him, so it is impossible to know if he is the ‘wrong’ kind of mysterious,” Teresa insisted, mustering her courage. “He did not have to propose marriage to me, but he did.Thatought to say something about his character.”

And he allowed me to speak. He would not let Vincent answer for me.She held onto that kind gesture, for though there hadbeen no warmth in Cyrus’ face or manner, therehadbeen generosity there.

Isolde chewed her lower lip, shaking her head. “I asked Edmund to see what he could discover. He spoke to Duncan and Lionel; he had them investigate too, but nothing could be found out about him. A man who has left no apparent mark on the world is… strange, and I do not like it.”

“One could argue thatIhave not left much of a mark on the world,” Teresa countered. “Being removed from society is not such a grave concern.”

Prudence folded her arms across her chest, tilting her chin up defiantly. “Well,Iheard Vincent telling the butler that your future husband is dangerous, that he was accused of some crimes when he was younger and disappeared from public knowledge shortly afterward. He has not been seen in society since, not until that masquerade. I do not care for the coincidence, Tessie.”

“Crimes?” Isolde gasped. “You did not mentionthatbefore!”

“I should not have been eavesdropping,” Prudence replied with a shrug. “And I suppose I hoped that you would have come to your senses by now, Tessie, and asked us to get you out of here.”

Teresa sat rigid on the vanity chair, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her skull, her stomach churning so violently that she was glad she had had no appetite for breakfast. No one had said anything about crimes or Cyrus being truly dangerous.

Even Vincent had admitted, in the end, that the stories about Cyrus were not worth repeating because they had come through the whispers of society’s worst gossipmongers. So, why had he said one thing to the butler and another thing to Teresa?

“I will not spread rumor,”Vincent had told her, when she had begged to be informed of the mysterious stories.“There is no evidence to suggest the tales are true, and I suspect they are the desperate conjurations of bored ladies who hate those who shun the very society they thrive within. All I know of the Duke of Darnley is that he did the honorable thing and… he is something of a recluse.”

“Are you making this up?” Teresa asked Prudence.

The youngest sister pulled a face. “Of course not! I would not do such a thing. Well, perhaps I would, but I swear I am not. It is what I heard; I promise.”

“Tessie, that does it,” Isolde said firmly, approaching the vanity. “I have seen the gentleman. I already thought him intimidating, but now that I am hearing this, Imustinsist on you changing your mind and leaving before this wedding. He could cause you very real harm, Tessie. If he truly is dangerous, youcannotmarry him and go to his residence with him, where we cannot protect you.”

Closing her eyes, Teresa drew in a slow breath, holding it in her tight lungs for ten seconds, before exhaling just as slowly. As she did so, she tapped her fingertips against her knee, focusing on the rhythm, letting it calm her.

Perhaps Vincent said that to the butler before he knew better,she told herself, switching knee.

Opening her eyes, she looked at her beloved sisters. “I do not believe the Duke is violent. Where no one else seems to have any evidence of his past or his character, I do.” She paused, steadying herself. “He could have inflicted harm upon me when I caused this scandal, but he did not. He did not so much as push me. And though he intimidated our brother, he was… a gentleman to me.”

Indeed, the only thing he wounded was my pride.She thought of the list, and how casually he had dismissed her name without knowing a single thing about her.

“He is, perhaps, infuriating,” she added, “but infuriating does not mean dangerous. Besides, if heisa recluse who loathes society events, then I cannot think of a better match. Maybe, that shared perspective might blossom into something more when we are married: two hermits falling in love in the peace and quiet of their marital home.”

She surprised herself, raising her eyebrows.Actually, that sounds rather romantic…

Indeed, she wondered if there was some secret benefit to having lived most of her life in a world of imagination and fantasy. No matter how dire a situation seemed, she could get her mind to turn it into something better, bending it to her dreamy will. It would be enough, at least, to get her through the wedding.