“Tyranny?” Hugo’s laugh was harsh. “I’m her father. It’s my responsibility to protect her.”
“She’s eighteen years old, not a child.”
“She’s my child. And tonight proved that she’s not ready for the responsibilities of adulthood.”
Sybil stared at him, seeing clearly for the first time the man beneath the charming facade. This was who Hugo truly was—a duke who brooked no opposition, who demanded absolute control.
“What happened tonight wasn’t about Rosalie being immature,” she said quietly. “It was about a young woman so desperate for approval that she felt she had to hide her feelings.”
“She should have come to me directly.”
“When you’ve made it clear that you view every young man as a threat? When you’ve created an atmosphere where she’s afraid to trust you with her happiness?”
Hugo’s face darkened. “I’ve given her everything.”
“Everything except the chance to make her own choices.” Sybil moved closer to his desk. “She felt she had to accept a proposal in secret because she knew you’d find reasons to reject any man she chose.”
“I would have evaluated Pemberton on his merits?—”
“No man will ever be good enough for your daughter in your eyes.”
Hugo went very still, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of his desk.
“That’s enough,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.
“You want to know why Rosalie couldn’t come to you? Because you’ve made it clear that your approval must be earned through absolute obedience.”
“I’ve made it clear that actions have consequences.”
“Whose actions, Hugo? Yours or hers?”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Hugo looked at her as if seeing a stranger.
“I think,” he said finally, “that you’ve forgotten your place in this family.”
The words hit her like ice water.
“And what exactly is my place, Your Grace?”
“You’re my wife. Your role is to support my decisions, not undermine them.”
“Even when your decisions are wrong?”
“My decisions are made with the best interests of this family in mind.”
Sybil felt the last of her illusions crumble away. “You’re behaving exactly like my father did.”
“Your father, who tried to protect his family’s reputation?”
“My father, who cared more about appearances than his daughter’s happiness. Who drove Emmie away rather than show compassion.”
“Your father was trying to prevent a scandal?—”
“My father was a rigid, unforgiving man who chose his pride over his child’s life.” Sybil’s voice was shaking now. “And if you go through with this duel, you’ll be doing exactly the same thing.”
Hugo’s face had gone white, but his eyes remained hard as granite.
“If you fight Lord Pemberton in a duel, you will lose Rosalie forever,” she pressed on. “She’ll never forgive you for destroying the man she loves.”
