Page 103 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Waylon leaned forward slightly. “But she wasn’t meant for him. She was never meant to be anyone’s second choice—or a prize traded between families.”
His father’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing.
“I’ve waited a year,” Adam said, his voice tightening. “Respected her space. I’ve seen her strength. Her kindness. How she survived that night—and the silence that followed. She didn’t crumble. She endured.”
Now Lord Fielding sat straighter. Not cold, but alert. “She nearly crumbled because of you and your brother.”
Heat rose to Adam’s head as if he were a green boy speaking to the school’s principal. “I come to you today,” Adam said, “not because I deserve her, but because I would spend every day trying to.”
A beat of silence passed. The clock ticked. The fire snapped.
“She’s still healing,” Waylon said carefully. “You know that.”
“Yes,” Adam said immediately. “And I will never demand more than she’s ready to give. But I want her to know—when she is ready—I’ll be there. As her husband, with your blessing. Her friend. Her equal.”
He drew a breath. “So I’ve come to ask. Not just for her hand, but for your trust.”
Waylon shifted, and for a moment Adam thought he might protest. But then the elder Fielding lifted a hand.
“My daughter has always been strong,” he said. “But since last year, she’s grown into something even more remarkable. You’re not wrong. She survived. But it’s left a mark. You saw it.”
Adam nodded once. “Every day since.”
“And you still want to marry her.” It wasn’t a question. It was a test.
Adam’s answer was immediate. “Yes. More than ever.”
Lord Fielding studied him, and then asked, “What would you do if she said no?”
Adam didn’t hesitate. “I’d respect it. And still love her. And never let another man touch her name without consequence.”
Waylon let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “I believe him.”
Lord Fielding turned toward his son, eyes narrowed slightly, and then back to Adam. “And David?”
Adam’s jaw tightened. “Gone. I sent him away—to an estate far enough that he can do no more harm. He will never step foot in England again if I have anything to do with it.”
The fire cracked again, almost, seemingly, louder this time. Was this what purgatory felt like?
“He betrayed her,” Adam said quietly. “And me. And everything our father stood for. That’s a wound I cannot forget. But I won’t let his filthy character near her again.”
Lord Fielding’s expression softened, but only a fraction.
“Charlene will have the final say,” he said at last. “But as her father, I’ll tell you this: I’ve never heard a man speak with more conviction about my daughter. And I’ve never seen her look at a man the way she looks at you.”
Adam closed his eyes briefly. The approval, the tentative trust—it meant more than he expected.
“You have my blessing,” Fielding said.
Waylon clapped him on the shoulder. “Just don’t break her heart, Rotheworth. Or else I’ll remove yours.”
Adam smiled for the first time. “Never.”
As he stood, his knees nearly gave out from the relief. He bowed low to both men, then glanced toward the doorway—where, one day soon, Charlene would walk in and everything would begin anew.
He didn’t have her yet. But he had this.
And it was a starting signal to begin the rest of their lives.
