“I have no power to refuse,” Gwen said. “Not in his house. Not without money. Not without any place to go.”
“You have your aunt,” Eleanor reminded her.
Gwen shook her head. “He knows about her now. He will watch me more closely. He will not allow me to vanish a second time.”
Arabella glanced around, as if expecting Victor to appear behind one of the potted palms. “And what of the Duke? He escorted you back, did he not? You mentioned it in your letter.”
Gwen looked down at her gloved hands. “He did.”
“And?” Arabella prompted.
“And nothing,” Gwen said, a little too quickly. “We stopped at an inn. We argued. We talked. He brought me back. It is done.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “That isnotnothing.”
“It is enough,” Gwen replied. “He has made his position clear. Our arrangement is over. He does not intend to see me privately again.”
Arabella’s eyebrows drew together. “But you care for him?”
Gwen’s throat tightened. “Yes.”
“Gwen,” Arabella whispered, her eyes shining. “You are in love with him.”
The words lodged somewhere deep inside Gwen, as if rooted there. “I know,” she mumbled.
Silence stretched between them, full of the things left unsaid.
Eleanor broke it. “Does he know?”
Gwen let out a shaky breath. “He suspects that I feel something. He is too perceptive not to. But he does not want it. He told me very plainly that he does not intend to marry me. That our… acquaintance was never about marriage.”
Arabella made a wounded sound. “He said that?”
“Yes.” Gwen nodded. “And he was right to do so. He is a duke. I am a woman with a damaged reputation and an abusive stepfather. I am a complication. A danger. He cannot affordto tie himself to me. His mother would never allow it. Society would devour us both.”
Eleanor studied her with compassionate severity. “Do you truly believe him incapable of caring?”
Gwen’s chest ached at the memory of Victor’s hands cradling her face. Of his voice coaxing comfort and pleasure in the dark. Of his confession about the cold courtyard. Of his laughter when she had teased him. Of the way he had held her in that bed as if she were something precious.
“I do not know what he is capable of,” she said softly.
Arabella shook her head. “You cannot simply surrender to Howard’s plans. You cannot tie yourself to a stranger because a frightened man commands it.”
“You think I have not fought?” Gwen asked sharply.
Eleanor lifted a placating hand. “We know you have. We know you would still be in that locked room if you had not kept fighting.” Her gaze softened. “But you are tired.”
“Yes,” Gwen whispered. “So I have decided that it is best to obey. At least for now. If I do as Howard says, perhaps he will cease watching me. Perhaps I will get another chance to run. But if I defy him openly again, he will crush every small freedom I have left.”
Arabella sniffed. “You cannot marry a man you do not love.”
Gwen gave a sad, small smile. “Many women do. My mother did. Twice.”
“That is a poor argument,” Eleanor scoffed. “Your mother is miserable.”
“I know,” Gwen replied. “Which is why I refused to marry for so long. Which is why I spread the rumors. Which is why I went to Victor in the first place. I have been fighting this battle for years, and I am losing it.”
Arabella caught her hand, squeezing hard. “We will help you.”
