Page 23 of Married to a Frozen Duke
“Charles!” Mrs. Coleridge protested.
“What? We’re all thinking it.”
“Enough.” Ophelia’s voice cut through the argument. “It’s done. Fighting about it won’t change anything.”
“We need to discuss settlements,” Robert said grimly. “Terms. Arrangements.”
“Of course you do,” Alexander muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. By all means, let’s discuss terms. Should we negotiate here, or would you prefer to meet at my solicitor’s office? I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in a counting house atmosphere.”
The insult landed exactly as intended. Robert’s face flushed dark red, Henry’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and the twins actually stood up.
“How dare you...” Robert started.
“How dare I what? Speak truthfully? You want to negotiate your sister’s marriage like a business transaction and...”
“That’s exactly what you made it!” Charles interrupted. “You proposed to her like she was a debt to be paid!”
“Because that’s what this is! Your sister for my inheritance. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“Our sister,” Henry said with icy precision, “is worth ten of you.”
“Then she’s marrying quite beneath herself, isn’t she?”
“You pompous, arrogant...”
“Stop.” Ophelia stood, and something in her bearing made them all fall silent. “Just… stop. All of you.”
She moved to the window, her back to them all. When she spoke, her voice was steady but tired. “Your Grace, my brothers will require certain assurances about my wellbeing and financial security. That’s reasonable, I think. Robert, as head of the family in father’s absence, you may meet with His Grace’s solicitors to arrange whatever needs arranging. I assume a special license will be procured?”
“I… yes,” Alexander said, thrown by her sudden practicality.
“Good. A small ceremony, I think. No need for spectacle.” She turned back to face them. “When?”
“When what?”
“When do you want the wedding?”
The question caught him off-guard. “I hadn’t… that is, whenever is convenient.”
“Nothing about this is convenient,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “But shall we say a fortnight? That gives time for settlements and whatever else needs doing.”
“A fortnight?” Mrs. Coleridge gasped. “But your dress, the preparations...”
“I have dresses. The church is available. What other preparations do we need? It’s not as if we’re celebrating a love match.”
The words were delivered calmly, but they landed like slaps.
“Ophelia,” her mother said softly. “You don’t have to...”
“Yes, I do. We all know I do. So let’s not pretend otherwise.” She moved toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to… I need some air.”
She left before anyone could respond. The room fell into uncomfortable silence.
“Congratulations, Your Grace,” Henry said with poisonous sweetness. “You’ve made my sister cry. Quite an achievement for your betrothal day.”
