Lysander raised an eyebrow. From the gravity of her voice and from her former fiancé’s behavior, he could sense the hidden meaning behind her words.
What had Lord Abbington done to make her run?
“His Grace, the Duke of Windermere, has asked for your hand in marriage,” Ridgewell told her.
Georgina’s head snapped to Lysander. “Why?”
“Because it is the simplest solution to both of our problems,” Lysander replied.
The three women quickly ran over to Georgina. The oldest of the three who had given Georgina the shawl spoke up. “Georgina has a right to speak for herself, no matter what anyone thinks of her. She should not be forced to wed if she does not wish to do so.”
Ridgewell sneered. “Your Grace, allow me to present the family.” He gestured first to the woman who’d given Georgina the shawl and then to the man beside her. Lysander noted the similarity in their features to Georgina’s, the woman’s calm composure, and the man’s tall, solid frame. “The Duchess and Duke of Blackmoor. The Duchess is Georgina’s eldest sister.”
Then Ridgewell indicated another couple: a woman with much lighter hair standing close to a man whose steady presence was unmistakable. “The Marchioness and Marquess of Browning. The Marchioness is the second sister.”
Finally, he nodded toward the youngest of the three women, who shared the golden hair of the Marchioness but with clearer eyes, and her husband, who was a tall man with a beard. “And the Duchess and Duke of Nightfell. The Duchess is the final sister, right before Georgina.”
“Good day to all of you,” Lysander bowed at them, wishing to conclude the pleasantries once and for all.
The group regarded him warily, which didn’t offend him. On the contrary, it was expected for the pack to be protective of its youngest.
“Georgina?” Lord Ridgewell prompted.
She turned to Lysander. “Your Grace… you don’t have to do this out of some sense of misguided duty.”
Lysander met her gaze steadily. “Duty isn’t something I question or hesitate over. It’s the only path I follow. This is not about doubt or sentiment; it’s what must be done.”
“You didn’t have to jump into the lake after me, but you did.”
“Yes, I did.”
She blinked, almost taken aback by how quickly he’d responded.
Lysander studied her carefully. The way she watched him—wary, guarded. She was grateful, no doubt, for the life he’d saved. But gratitude didn’t mean trust. They barely knew each other.
“You know why this must happen,” he said quietly, breaking the silence between them. “Marriage will save both our reputations. It is not about us.”
She met his eyes. “You pulled me from the lake,” she said softly. “For that, I’m thankful. But… marrying a stranger just to silence gossip? That’s a dangerous gamble.”
Lysander shrugged, his voice steady, almost cold. “It’s our duty and what is necessary for peers like us.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is duty all that matters? Because the last time I accepted a proposal out of duty, it didn’t turn out so well.”
He took a step closer, the faintest hint of something, perhaps challenge, perhaps invitation, lingering beneath his words. “I won’t give you a reason to run, my lady.”
They held each other’s gaze, the charged silence between them thicker than the humid summer air. A spark ignited in that moment—quiet, dangerous, and undeniable.
Before either could say more, Lord Ridgewell’s voice cut through, low and urgent. “Georgina, this is a convenient solution. You’d be wise to accept.”
Lady Georgina glanced at her uncle, her eyes narrowed and full of apprehension. Then, she straightened herself.
“If—ifI agree to marry you, I would like to make a request. There’s a maid of mine whom I would like to bring with me.”
“You can hire whoever you like for all I care,” Lysander responded nonchalantly.
An extra maid was the least of his worries.
A flicker of relief passed through her features. Was this maid of hers really all that important?
