I stood perfectly still as the words left my lips. The winter air seemed to freeze between us, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I regretted my boldness. Duke Alaric Thorne stared at me, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers, ash building at the tip.
"A contract marriage," he repeated slowly, as if testing the weight of each word. "Between us."
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to maintain his gaze. This was my only chance.
"Yes, Your Grace."
His dark eyes narrowed. "Did your father put you up to this? Is this some elaborate scheme?"
I laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "My father barely remembers I exist unless he needs someone to blame for his misfortunes. He would never choose me as bait for a duke. My sister Clara is his prized possession."
The duke studied me with an intensity that made me want to shrink away, but I stood my ground. Years of living behind a mask had taught me how to endure scrutiny.
"Then why?" he asked. "Why propose such an arrangement?"
"Because I'm desperate." The honesty felt like relief pouring from my lungs. "Because every day in this house suffocates me a little more. Because my stepmother and sister make my life hell, and my father allows it."
The duke took a long drag from his cigarette, his breath mingling with the smoke in the cold air. "And you think marriage to me would be better? People call me a monster, Miss Beaumont."
"I'm not afraid of monsters, Your Grace. I've lived with them all my life." I gestured toward the manor house. "At least with you, the terms would be clear."
A flicker of something—perhaps respect—crossed his face. "And what would these terms be?"
"I don't want your money or your affection," I said quickly. "I have no delusions about love. I simply want escape. In return, I would be the wife you need—present when required, absent when preferred. No emotional entanglements."
"And why would I agree to this proposal? What would I gain?"
I thought for a moment. "Freedom from this." I gestured toward the house full of eager marriage prospects. "And imagine King Theron's face when you tell him you've married the 'cursed daughter' of Baron Beaumont."
A slow smile spread across his face. "You know how to appeal to a man's petty side, I'll give you that."
"Is it working?" I asked, not bothering to hide the desperation in my voice.
The duke flicked his cigarette onto the frost-covered ground, crushing it beneath his boot. "Come to my estate tomorrow at noon. We'll discuss the details."
Relief washed over me so suddenly I nearly staggered. "You're actually considering it?"
"I'm considering it," he confirmed. "But only if you show up tomorrow. Consider it a test of your determination."
My stomach tightened. I rarely left the estate. Lady Beatrix, my stepmother, carefully controlled my movements. "I'll be there," I promised, with more confidence than I felt.
"Do you even know where I live?" His tone was slightly mocking.
"Thornewood Manor, north of the city. Everyone knows that."
He nodded, seeming satisfied. "Tomorrow, then."
As he turned to leave, I spotted a flash of golden hair and knew we were no longer alone.
"Your Grace!" Clara's voice cut across the garden like the crack of a whip. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."
The duke's shoulders tensed, but his face remained impassive as he turned to face my half-sister. Clara glided toward us, ignoring me completely, her blue eyes fixed on the duke with practiced adoration. Her winter cloak was trimmed with expensive fur, making my thin shawl seem even more pathetic.
"Father mentioned you were visiting today," Clara gushed, curtsying deeply. "I've been so looking forward to meeting you."
"Have you?" Alaric's tone was ice. "How fortunate for you that your wish was granted."
I bit my lip to hide my smile. Clara either missed or ignored his sarcasm.
"I couldn't believe it when I heard you were in the garden with... her." Clara finally acknowledged my existence with a dismissive glance. "Isabella barely leaves the house. You must be frozen out here! Come inside where it's warm. I'd love to play the pianoforte for you."
"That won't be necessary," Alaric replied. "I was just leaving."
Clara's perfect smile faltered. "But you've only just arrived! And you haven't even had refreshments. Father would be devastated if—"
"Your father will survive the disappointment," Alaric cut her off.
My sister's eyes darted between us, trying to puzzle out what she'd interrupted. "What were you discussing with my sister?"
The impertinence of the question hung in the air. I held my breath, waiting for the duke's reaction.
"I wasn't aware I needed to explain my conversations to you, Miss Beaumont," Alaric said, his voice dangerously soft.
Clara blushed but persisted. "Of course not, Your Grace. I only meant that Isabella rarely has anything interesting to say. But I could show you Father's collection of antique maps. Or perhaps you'd like to see the new mare he purchased? I've been told you appreciate fine horseflesh."
"Indeed," Alaric replied dryly. "Though I find I've developed a sudden appreciation for masked women who speak their minds."
Clara's smile froze on her face. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her so thoroughly confounded.
"I don't understand," she said, her voice brittle. "Everyone knows you visit the red-light district in the city. I thought men like you preferred... experienced women."
I felt my face heat with embarrassment at her crude insinuation.
Alaric's expression darkened. "You should be careful about repeating gossip, especially when it's incorrect." His gaze flicked to me, then back to Clara. "As it happens, I've just received a much better offer."
With that, he bowed slightly to me—not to Clara—and walked away, leaving my sister staring after him in utter bewilderment.
"What did he mean by that?" Clara demanded, rounding on me. "What offer did you make him?"
I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders, savoring the rare feeling of having the upper hand with my sister. "Perhaps you should ask him tomorrow. If you can find him."
Clara's eyes narrowed. "What are you planning, Isabella?"
For once, I didn't cringe at her tone. The duke's consideration of my proposal had given me a small taste of hope, and with it came courage I hadn't felt in years.
"For the first time in my life," I said quietly, "something that doesn't include you."
I walked past her, heading back toward the house, already planning how I would escape tomorrow to meet the duke. Behind me, I could feel Clara's glare burning into my back, but for once, I didn't care. For the first time in years, I had something she wanted and couldn't take from me—the Duke of Thornewood's attention.