Not when he gets that particular set to his jaw.
“I think your father’s conditions are reasonable,” Sybil said diplomatically. “Public venue, proper chaperones, reasonable hours. What more could you ask for?”
“A father who doesn’t think every man in London is a potential villain?”
“That may be beyond my powers of persuasion,” Sybil admitted.
“I don’t think every man in London is a villain,” Hugo protested. “Just the ones who show interest in my daughters.”
Oh, this poor man. Wait until Leah and Melanie are old enough for suitors.
“In any case,” Sybil said, rising from the table, “I have appointments this morning. The committee meeting for the charity fundraiser is at ten.”
“Ah, yes,” Hugo stood as well, moving to hold her chair. “Your project to establish more orphanages. How is that progressing?”
The question sent a thrill of purpose through her. This was her project, her vision for expanding the work she’d started. Not filling a void in her heart but building something larger and more lasting than she’d ever imagined possible.
“Very well. Lady Pemberton has agreed to host the event at Pemberton House next month. We’re expecting over two hundred guests, and the initial pledges have been quite encouraging.”
More than encouraging. They’ve been astounding.
“And you’re certain this is how you want to spend your time? You don’t have to take on such an enormous undertaking simply because you feel obligated.”
Sybil paused in gathering her correspondence, struck by the question. A year ago, she might have taken on such a project out of guilt or a desperate need to be useful. But now…
“I want to do this,” she said, surprised by the certainty in her own voice. “Not because I need to be needed but because I can help. Because I have resources now and connections and the ability to make a real difference.”
And because maybe our child will grow up in a world with fewer orphaned children. Maybe they’ll see their mother as someone who built something meaningful.
“Good,” Hugo said simply. “I’m proud of you for taking this on. And I’m proud of the way you’re approaching it—strategically, with clear goals and sustainable plans.”
Proud of me. When was the last time someone said they were proud of me?
The words warmed her more than they should have, making her think again of the secret she was carrying. Soon, perhaps very soon, she’d be able to share her joy with the man who’d given her so much.
But first, the fundraiser. First, I prove to myself and everyone else that I’m not just the Duke’s convenient wife but a woman with purpose and power of her own.
“I should go,” she said, rising on her toes to press a quick kiss to Hugo’s cheek. “Mrs. Patterson will have my head if I’m late.”
“Take the carriage,” Hugo called after her. “And don’t let anyone intimidate you. You’re a duchess now—act like one.”
And as she made her way to the morning room where the committee was gathering, Sybil felt the truth of it settle into her bones. She was no longer Sybil Gillies, the disgraced Earl’s daughter running an orphanage. She was the Duchess of Vestiaire, and she had work to do.
The committee meeting had gone better than expected. Lady Pemberton proved to be an excellent organizer, and even the normally difficult Lady Worthington had agreed to contribute both funds and influence to the cause.
But it was the confrontation afterward that truly tested Sybil’s newfound confidence.
She’d been reviewing seating arrangements with Lady Pemberton when a familiar voice cut through their conversation like a knife.
“How touching,” Lady Hartwell drawled, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “The Duke’s new wife is taking up charity work. Though I suppose such causes must feel quite personal to you.”
Lady Hartwell. The same woman who snubbed me at my own wedding.
Sybil looked up slowly, noting the malicious gleam in the older woman’s eyes. Lady Hartwell had never forgiven the world for her son’s untimely death in that duel with Sybil’s father—a death that had saved Emmie from further humiliation but cost the family their heir.
“Lady Hartwell,” Sybil said calmly. “How lovely to see you again.”
“Is it? I can’t imagine why, given our… history.” The woman’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “Though I must say, you’ve done quite well for yourself. From running a charity orphanage to being a duchess—quite the elevation.”
