Page 28 of Married to a Frozen Duke
But tonight, she allowed herself one moment of grief for the proposal she’d never have. The one where someone looked at her with joy instead of resignation. Where someone said her name like it was precious instead of problematic. Where someone wanted her for herself instead of circumstances.
It was foolish, she knew. Fairy tales were for children, and she’d never been allowed to be a child for very long. But still, just for tonight, she grieved.
Tomorrow she’d be practical again. Tomorrow she’d be the quiet, sensible Miss Coleridge who did what was necessary without complaint.
Tonight, she was just Ophelia, betrothed to a man who’d rather be anywhere else, wearing a ring that didn’t fit, preparing for a life that would never be hers.
Chapter Eight
The next morning brought solicitors.
Alexander had sent his solicitor, Mr. Ridges and Robert received him in the study with all the enthusiasm of a man calculating the money he would acquire from the union.
Ophelia was not invited to the negotiations about her own future, naturally. She sat in the morning room, pretending to embroider while straining to hear the raised voices from behind the closed door.
“Preposterous!” That was Robert.
“Quite standard, I assure you.” The solicitor’s dusty voice.
“Standard for whom?”
“For a duchess, Mr. Coleridge.”
“My sister isn’t a duchess yet.”
“But she will be. And His Grace is being most generous.”
“Generous?” Robert’s laugh was bitter. “He’s buying her like a horse at auction.”
Ophelia set down her embroidery and moved closer to the door.
“The pin money alone is...”
“Insufficient.”
“Mr. Coleridge, three thousand pounds per annum is hardly...”
“For a duchess? It’s insulting.”
“Then what would you suggest?”
“Five thousand.”
There was a pause. Papers rustling.
“I’ll have to consult with His Grace.”
“You do that. And while you do, tell His Grace that my sister’s children...”
Ophelia fled back to her seat as footsteps approached the door. Mr. Ridges emerged, looking slightly ruffled, which for him was the equivalent of complete dishevelment.
“Miss Coleridge.” He bowed precisely. “I shall return tomorrow with His Grace’s response to your brother’s… suggestions.”
After he left, Robert emerged from the study looking thunderous.
“Well?” Ophelia asked.
“He’s trying to buy you cheap.”
