Page 48 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
The cook curtseyed to her master, smiling once more.
“I shall get started right away,” she said.
Michael nodded. With those things taken care of, he continued to rehearse what he would say to his wife when she returned. He had no idea how he could ever make such a confession to her. Should he wait until after their dinner? Or should he plead for her forgiveness and then present her with all the arrangements he had made? The latter seemed to be the better choice. She would no doubt be wary of his intentions once he told her the truth. But with his grand gesture, he could prove how truly remorseful he was, and that he really did love her.
When he finally heard the approaching carriage wheels outside, his heart leapt with joy. He raced toward the entryway, eager to embrace his wife and declare his love.
However, when the carriage rolled to a stop, it was not Lydia who emerged. Instead, the footman stepped into the house, his face somber and expression filled with concern. He spoke with the butler before dashing back outside and moving the carriage out of sight. Michael's heart sank as he anxiously awaited the news.
“Sir,” Patterson began hesitantly, “I regret to inform you that Lady Strawbridge will not be returning home just yet. There has been an unexpected situation at her parents' estate.”
Michael's heart tightened in his chest, the disappointment cutting through him like a knife. He fought to remain composed, his voice strained as he asked,
“What has happened?” he asked. “Is Lydia alright?”
Patterson hesitated, clearly uncomfortable delivering the message.
“I cannot say for sure what exactly happened,” he said, holding out a letter. “However, she did leave this note in the carriage, with instructions that it be delivered to you as soon as possible upon its arrival.”
Michael reached for the letter, unfolding it, and smoothing it out on his desk. He couldn’t fathom why she would send written word to him rather than coming to speak to him herself. He opened the letter, his heart in his throat.
Chapter Twenty-five
The air in the earl's study was heavy with the scent of parchment, ink, and the faint lingering smell of pipe tobacco. It was also pregnant with the confession that Lydia sought, the one she feared she would receive. She stood in front of her father, her heart pounding in her chest. Her wide eyes were determined, her lips set in a firm line as she waited for her father to continue speaking. She couldn’t believe that what had started as such a wonderful, happy day for her was so quickly becoming the worst day of her life.
The earl remained silent, his gaze steady on his daughter. The tension was nearing too much for Lydia. Her father’s embarrassed silence was more than enough answer for her. But she couldn’t rest until she had heard him say the words for himself. Though, what she would do if he did say it, she wasn’t sure. Was it possible that Coulton had simply been mistaken? She wanted to hope. But her father’s demeanor assured her that wasn’t the case.
Lydia swallowed hard, trying to keep her face from betraying her hurt.
“Please, answer me, Father,” she said. “Supposedly, you traded our family's ancient Greek vase for his offer. That you sold a piece of history, an item from your own collection, for me to be married off.”
The earl sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He looked at his desk, the shame ever increasing in his features.
“Lydia,” he began. “Darling…”
Lydia held up her hand, shaking her head.
“Is it true?” she pressed, her voice cracking slightly. “Do not try to spare my feelings now. Just tell me if it’s true.”
The earl looked back at his daughter, his eyes filled with a deep sadness.
“Yes, Lydia,” he said with a heavy voice. “I am afraid that it's true.”
There was a long silence. Lydia felt a lump in her throat, her mind struggling to process her father's confession. She had always known the family was in financial trouble, but she never thought it would come to this. And besides, despite their previous troubles, her father had always refused to even consider selling any of his artifacts. What would make him change his mind so suddenly? And so secretly?
“Why, Father?” Lydia finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you do it? How could you do such a thing?”
The earl slowly shook his head, his eyes filled with regret.
“Because, my dear Lydia,” he said. “I believed it was the best thing for you. For our family.”
The silence in the room was palpable. Lydia stood there, the reality of her father's actions hitting her like a wave. The future she'd imagined for herself had been traded away, all for an ancient Greek vase. Michael had never had any real interest in her. He had simply wanted the vase.
“How could you possibly believe that trading me like some piece of property was what was best?” she asked.
The earl sighed.
“Lydia, please,” he said. “Men arrange marriages for their daughters all the time. And it is customary for the father to offer a dowry to his daughter’s future husband. I was presented the opportunity to offer an item in place of money when we were struggling financially. Please, you have to understand. I had no ill intent in doing this.”
