“I am married now, am I not? Wasn’t that your goal? Balls, parties, parading me like a prize—well, the prize was won. Be kinder to your daughters than you ever were to me. You are a woman, Lady Grisham. You should know how difficult it is for the rest of us.”
Lady Grisham didn’t reply. She sneered and turned her back.
That afternoon, they departed for Redmoor in the duke’s carriage.
Silence filled the space between them.
Elizabeth stared out the window, barely hearing the clatter of wheels or the creak of the carriage. Her thoughts were tangled.Not sad, exactly, but solemn. She had crossed a threshold she could never return from.
She wasn’t a fool. Despite what her stepmother had always said, she knew this was a goodbye. She would no longer sleep in her childhood room. Would no longer sneak into Marianne’s chamber when the world felt too heavy.
She had married not for love, but for safety. For the hope of dignity.
It still stung.
“Ye’ve been quiet,” Alasdair said gently.
Elizabeth looked up. He sat across from her, filling the carriage with his size and stillness. He didn’t look like a man of society. He looked like someone born from earth and stone. Steady.
“I’m trying to make sense of it all,” she admitted. “Days ago, I didn’t think I’d be married at all.”
He nodded slowly. “And now ye’re the Duchess of Redmoor.”
There was pride in his voice, not arrogance. A quiet reverence.
“Oh yes,” she said, voice soft. “I am.”
Their hands brushed, accidentally at first. But then he caught her fingers. Held them, gently.
He looked at her with something close to awe.
“Are ye afraid of me, lass?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “No. I’m not afraid of you.”
He let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. “At least that’s a start.”
And it was.
Not a love match, but a beginning. A promise not made of fantasy, but of respect.
And perhaps, if they were lucky, something more.
Elizabeth and Alasdair arrived at Redmoor Hall just as dusk settled over the countryside.
The sky was streaked with violet and gold, the last of the sun casting a long shadow across the great lawn.
Though their journey from the church had not been long, Elizabeth felt as if she had travelled to a different world entirely, one not measured in miles, but in meaning.
The carriage rolled to a gentle stop on the gravel drive, and for a moment, neither of them moved. She stared out the window at the manor that loomed before her.
She’d been there before for their dancing lesson, but now, in the daylight, she could see that Redmoor was grand without being garish.
Solid stone, dark timber, and a sense of quiet strength. Ivy clung to the west wing like it had always belonged there. Tall windows caught the soft orange glow of the setting sun. Though not as showy as some London homes, it had a steady, certain presence. A home that stood firm no matter what the world thought of it.
The door was opened, and a footman stepped forward. Alasdair descended first, then turned and extended his hand to her.
He didn’t rush her. His grip was steady, warm.