"I would do whatever necessary to protect my family," Gregory said simply. "Which now includes you, if you marry Poppy properly. With my blessing and a special license that does not require a scandalous dash to Scotland."
"A special license," Henry repeated slowly.
"I can have one procured within two days," Gregory said. "You could be married by week's end. Properly, in a church, with witnesses and legitimacy. No scandal. No whispers about desperation or impropriety."
"And my sisters?" Henry asked. "If Beatrice discovers the truth about my father before?—"
"She will not," Gregory interrupted. "Because she will be in Bath. Under careful observation. With very limited funds and no socialinfluence to leverage. And if she attempts to spread rumors, I will ensure they are thoroughly discredited."
He leaned forward slightly.
"I am not without resources, Mr. Ashford. And I am not without a certain... reputation for dealing with problems directly. If your primary concern is protecting your sisters from gossip and scandal, then allying yourself with me is far more effective than running to Scotland."
Henry looked at Poppy. Some silent communication passed between them.
"What about the scandal of calling off an elopement?" Poppy asked. "We are already here. People will know we left London together."
"Will they?" Sybil asked. "Who saw you leave? Who knows where you went?"
Poppy frowned. "I... I do not know, actually. We were careful. Left separately, met at a coaching inn?—"
"Then as far as Society knows, you went to visit a friend in the country," Sybil said. "And Mr. Ashford happened to be traveling in the same direction. Pure coincidence."
"And if anyone questions the timing?" Henry asked.
"Then they will be reminded that a duke's sister-in-law has every right to travel with appropriate chaperonage," Gregory said. "Which you now have, given that my wife and her friends are present."
"You have thought of everything," Poppy said, but her tone was more wondering than accusatory.
"I have spent years in military strategy," Gregory replied. "This is simply another type of campaign. One with significantly lower stakes than most battles, but requiring similar planning."
Anthea had been silent through the entire exchange, watching Gregory methodically dismantle every objection, every fear, every reason Poppy and Henry had given for their desperate flight.
He was magnificent. Commanding without being overbearing. Logical without being cold. Offering solutions that protected everyone involved while maintaining dignity and propriety.
Everything she should have done. Everything she had failed to do because she was too busy being in love to notice her sister spiraling toward this desperate act.
"Anthea?" Poppy's voice broke through her thoughts. "What do you think?"
All eyes turned to her.
Anthea opened her mouth. Closed it. What could she possibly say? That she thought Gregory's plan was sound? That she was grateful he was handling this because she had proven herself completely inadequate?
"I think," she managed finally, her voice hollow, "that Gregory has proposed a reasonable solution."
"That is all?" Poppy asked, frowning. "You are not going to lecture me about responsibility or duty or?—"
"What would be the point?" Anthea interrupted, more sharply than she intended. "You have made your feelings clear. You do not trust me to protect you. And given my recent performance, I cannot blame you for that."
"Anthea, that is not—" Poppy started.
"It is fine," Anthea said, cutting her off. "Gregory has handled everything. You will have your marriage, Henry's sisters will be protected, and Beatrice will be removed from the situation entirely. Everyone gets what they want."
The words came out flat. Lifeless.
Gregory was watching her with growing concern, but she could not meet his eyes.
"So we accept?" Henry asked, still looking uncertain. "We return to London and wait for the special license?"
