Page 7 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Cassie said the exact same thing on this day before. Any lingering doubts Selene has about this all being a dreamfade rapidly, although the sensation lingers. She knows this is real. Sheknowsit.
It just doesn’t quite feel that way.
Cassie gathers her hair, pinning it into soft curls as Selene gazes out the window, overlooking the estate’s drive. A few guests have already begun to arrive. Lavish carriages roll up the gravel path, each bringing a noble for her parents’ ‘little soirée’ later this afternoon.
Everyone knows what they are actually attending—her engagement party. It has all but been assured.
She remembers her parents’ excitement regarding the proposal, the whispered hints about what a future duchess might bring to House Duskbriar. The honour and prestige she’d bring to her family. Selene had bathed in the praise. Danced in it.
Not this time.
This time, her parents will have to contend with disappointment. She will not be marrying the Duke.
But she will have to marry someone.
The Duke will never cease his suit if she doesn’t, and Selene doesn’t doubt he is the sort of man who will force her hand if she refuses him, finding some other way to make her his wife. Her parents will never let it rest, either. If she is to escape his clutches, she has no choice but to find another husband.
She could run away, of course. She could pawn her dresses and jewellery. But she has no idea where she would go after that, no idea how much money she would need or how far she would have to travel. Dimly, she considers Montelune across the sea, and the foolish dream of becoming a dancer. But Selene knows she wouldn’t last two days on her own.
She has survived a poor marriage once before. She is willing to hedge her bets with another.
Selene’s gaze roves over the guests spilling out of carriages, evaluating each nobleman with renewed scrutiny. Who can she endure? Better yet, who will leave her be?
Lord Havering exits his carriage first, leaning into a loud conversation with his mother about some scandal at court last season. The man loves the sound of his own voice. Marrying him would mean a life of gossip and trivialities, every secret of hers eventually spilled to Florenwall’s society pages. No, he won’t do.
Next, she spots Sir Embry. His rigid posture and scrutinising eyes make her skin prickle. He is practically joined at the hip with his politically savvy sister and her equally ambitious husband. There would be no escaping the agendas of the Embry family, no quiet retreat to the countryside. Certainly not.
Then there is Lord Greyton, whose hesitant smile and slightly shabby coat hint at a title with more heritage than wealth. Rumour has it he prefers the company of men—a detail Selene never paid attention to before, but now it gleams like a lifeline. Perhaps Lord Greyton would welcome a wife who expects no romance. She imagines it: a courteous understanding, two people free to lead their own lives, far removed from each other’s business.
Still, his shy demeanour and well-worn attire suggest he might lack the strength she needs in an ally. Someone less likely to bow to pressure from the Duke or, worse, her parents.
She taps the windowsill with her manicured, perfectly shaped nails, aware that she needs to act fast, though her options are appallingly limited.
“He isn’t here yet,” Cassie remarks.
Selene startles. She has almost forgotten Cassie is in the room at all. “Who?” she asks dumbly.
“Your future husband,” Cassie replies, suppressing a giggle. “The Duke won’t arrive for at least another hour.”
Selene wants Duke Drakefell to never arrive. She wants him to fall into a ditch and perish on his way here.
The dark thought consumes her. She wants a person dead. A person she once cared for. She has hated him for a lot longer than she ever loved him, but wanting himdead?
That desire only formed yesterday.
For another girl,she tells herself. It hasn’t happened to her yet.
But it will. It will happen to her if she doesn’t find a way out of this marriage.
A prickling sense of urgency bubbles up within her as she considers how narrow her options truly are. She can practically feel the Duke’s shadow bearing down on her, tightening around her like a snare.
She stands.
“My lady?” Cassie starts. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to take a turn about the grounds to clear my head,” Selene tells her.
She ignores Cassie’s faint protests. She knows guests are arriving. She knows it is considered scandalous for an unmarried lady to walk the grounds alone with eligible young men around, even in her own home. She just doesn’t care. Perhaps, if she is lucky, she will cause a scandal, and the Duke will be forced to find another bride.
