Page 28 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“Even if I turn him down?” Agnes’ voice barely rose above a whisper.

“If that is your wish, we will respect your decision, dear,” Caroline assured. “I must be honest with you, however. Society is merciless, and the road ahead may prove challenging. But your father and I will spare no effort to keep you safe.”

Agnes felt the weight of her mother’s words, the reality of her situation pressing down on her with an unbearable heaviness. She inhaled deeply.

“I will marry him,” Agnes declared, the words falling from her lips with a resignation born of necessity rather than desire. To decline Theodore’s offer would be to expose her family to further scandal, to subject them to the whispers and sneers of theton. He had stepped forward with an offer of marriage, an honorable gesture that demanded a sacrifice of her own. It was time, she reasoned, to ease the burden her predicament had placed on her loved ones.

“Is this truly your desire, Agnes?” Caroline’s query was solemn, her eyes searching her daughter’s for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Agnes nodded, unable to speak.

“Is everything quite all right?” Her father’s voice broke through the heavy air as he entered the room, his eyes shifting between his wife and daughter in search of understanding.

“She has consented to his proposal,” Caroline shared, her voice carrying a note of relief that visibly eased some of the tension etched into the Duke’s features.

“I shall immediately set about procuring a special license,” William said “They shall marry in the coming days.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself on that account, Papa,” Agnes interjected softly. The thought of her family going through the arduous process to secure a special license, especially given the circumstances, weighed heavily on her conscience. She had already been the cause of enough distress.

“It is no trouble. Indeed, it is my wish,” William insisted, his response leaving no room for debate. His determination to expedite the matter conveyed his desire to see his daughter’s reputation salvaged as swiftly as possible.

“We could simply abide by the customary waiting period for the?—”

“Let us regard the license as an early nuptial gift,” he stated, effectively silencing any objections she might have had.

If only she could find a sliver of hope in the midst of this turmoil, Agnes mused despairingly. Her parents left her in the study, and a moment later, the door opened and Theodore entered, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made her heart race.

Their gazes met and held for a moment. She could not guess what he was thinking, and she could see neither pleasure nor displeasure in his expression. Theodore gestured toward the chairs by the hearth, his movements graceful yet tentative. “Shall we sit?” he asked, sounding more formal than she had ever heard him.

“You are still playing the role of the host in my home, My Lord,” Agnes said to lighten the air.

A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips, and he raised a single brow. “My Lord?”

“I am unsure what to call you now,” she admitted.

“Your betrothed if you accept my proposal.”

Agnes sat and looked at the empty fireplace for a moment. “None of us imagined this would happen.”

Instead of responding to her statement, he asked, “Will you?” A moment’s pause passed between them. “Marry me, that is.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “His Grace is gifting us a special license.”

Theodore nodded. “Then we should be married in a few days.” He stood and held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her to her feet. “I shall see you soon.” He placed a polite kiss on her knuckles before turning and striding out of the room.

Agnes placed a hand on her belly, seeking to ease the knots tightening there. Why was she not feeling any relief even after her reputation had seemingly been saved?

CHAPTER 14

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of this day for years,” Caroline sighed wistfully as they meandered through the array of shops on Bond Street. The whirlwind of wedding preparations had swept them into the bustling heart of London’s fashion district, in pursuit of the perfect trousseau for Agnes.

As her mother and friends reveled in the excitement of selecting fabrics and patterns, Agnes found herself ensnared in a fog of detachment. Theodore’s proposal had left her emotions frayed and her heart encased in an armor of indifference.

Perhaps,she mused darkly,adopting a demeanor as stoic as his was the prudent course of action.With no word from him since that fateful morning, and with no inclination on her part to reach out, a chasm of silence had grown between them, deepening her sense of isolation.

“Oh, the cheer of an imminent wedding,” Emma exclaimed, her voice dripping with longing as they leafed through the delicate pages of Madame Fontaine’s latest catalog.

“Not every wedding augurs cheer,” Agnes found herself murmuring, the words escaping her lips before she could reel them back. The sharp turn of Frances and Emma’s heads, their faces etched with worry, was a stark contrast to Caroline’s engrossment in a spirited discussion with the modiste.

“You’re usually the optimist, Aggie,” Emma remarked gently, her hand finding Agnes’s and offering a squeeze that was both comforting and grounding.

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