“How long will that take?” Melanie asked eagerly. “To rebuild, I mean?”
That depends entirely on whether she accepts my proposal.
“I’m not certain yet,” he said diplomatically. “These things take time to organize properly.”
“She could teach us about medicine,” Leah said suddenly. “About herbs and healing. Think how useful that would be!”
“I doubt Lady Sybil has time to take on additional students,” Hugo replied though the idea had merit. His daughters could benefit from practical knowledge beyond the usual accomplishments.
“But if she were staying longer…” Rosalie’s voice trailed off meaningfully.
They’re matchmaking. My daughters are trying to play matchmakers.
The realization should have been alarming. Instead, Hugo found himself oddly pleased by their immediate acceptance of Sybil.
They see what I see—intelligence, competence, genuine warmth beneath the proper facade.
“Lady Sybil has her own responsibilities,” he said firmly. “We mustn’t impose on her responsibilities.”
“Of course not,” Rosalie agreed too quickly. “We would never dream of imposing.”
The innocent tone didn’t fool him for a moment. His daughters were definitely plotting something.
Let them plot. It might make things easier if they’re already fond of her.
“Now then,” he said, rising from the chair, “it’s past time you were all in bed. Tomorrow will be another busy day.”
“Yes, Papa,” they chorused with suspicious obedience.
He paused at the door, looking back at their expectant faces.
They want her to stay. They want someone who sees them as more than ornaments or burdens.
Just like he did.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. She hasn’t agreed to anything yet.
But as he walked back through the corridors toward his own chambers, Hugo found himself thinking about the way Sybil had looked at him when he’d kissed her gloves. The flush in her cheeks, the catch in her breathing, the way her pulse had fluttered visibly at her throat.
She’s not as indifferent as she pretends to be.
The thought was more satisfying than it had any right to be.
This is a practical arrangement. Nothing more.
But even as he tried to convince himself, Hugo couldn’t forget the feeling of her hand in his or the way she’d looked at him as though he were a man worth knowing rather than just a title worth pursuing.
Perhaps there can be more to this arrangement than either of us anticipates.
The possibility should have alarmed him. Instead, as he reached his chamber door, Hugo found himself smiling.
Tomorrow, he would have his answer. And either way, he suspected his well-ordered life was about to become considerably more interesting.
Chapter Five
“He asked me to marry him.”
The words fell into the servants’ quarters like stones dropped into still water. Sybil stood in the doorway, her face pale and her hands trembling against her skirts.
