“For six months, I believed every word,” Beverly continued. “I let him convince me that we were as good as married already, that our love was so pure and true that society’s rules didn’t apply to us.” Her laugh was bitter. “He was very good at making me feel special. Chosen.”
“Beverly…” Sybil whispered, beginning to understand.
“And then one morning, his mother announced his engagement to the local squire’s daughter. When I confronted him, he acted as though I’d imagined everything between us. Said he’d never make any promises to a mere governess.”
The room fell silent except for the crackling of the fire.
“I was dismissed that same day,” Beverly finished quietly. “Without references, without the wages owed to me. They threatened to have me arrested if I ever tried to contact the family again.”
Marge reached over and squeezed Beverly’s hand. “You never told us that story before.”
“It’s not something I like to dwell on,” Beverly admitted. “But my point is, Sybil, I know what a true rake looks like. I know how they operate. They take what they want and give nothing in return. They make promises they never intend to keep.”
She looked directly at Sybil. “That’s not what the Duke is doing. If anything, he’s putting himself at risk by tying his family’s reputation to yours.”
“But what if he changes his mind?” Sybil asked, her voice small. “What if he decides I’m not suitable after all? What if?—”
“What if the sky falls?” Marge interrupted with gentle firmness. “Sybil, love, you can’t live your life afraid of what might happen. And you certainly can’t let fear make decisions for those thirty-seven girls who need you.”
The mention of the children hit Sybil like a physical blow. She sank into the room’s single chair, suddenly exhausted.
“I saw them at breakfast this morning,” she said quietly. “The girls. They looked… better. Healthier. Their cheeks weren’t hollow anymore, and they weren’t shivering in their beds.” She looked up at her friends with tears in her eyes. “How can I take them away from that? How can I condemn them to some overcrowded institution where they’ll be just another mouth to feed?”
“You don’t have to,” Beverly said simply. “The Duke is offering you a way to give them everything they deserve. Education, comfort, security. All you have to do is accept his help.”
“By marrying him,” Sybil said weakly.
“By partnering with him,” Marge corrected. “There’s a difference, dear. He’s not asking you to fall in love with him. He’s asking you to work together toward goals that benefit you both.”
Sybil stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker. “But what about Emmie? Isn’t accepting his offer like… like betraying everything I’ve tried to build in her memory?”
“Is it?” Beverly asked quietly. “Or does it feel like finally having the power to help other young women avoid her fate?”
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility.
“As a duchess,” Marge added gently, “you’d have influence. Resources. The ability to create real change, not just manage the consequences of society’s cruelties.”
Sybil closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the decision before her. When she opened them again, both her friends were watching her with expressions of loving concern.
“I’m scared,” she admitted in a whisper.
“Of course, you are,” Beverly said warmly. “It’s a leap into the unknown. But sometimes, sweetheart, the biggest risk is not taking any risk at all.”
“And,” Marge added with a gentle smile, “you won’t be facing it alone. You’ll have us, and you’ll have those girls who adore you, and you’ll have a husband who chose you specifically because he recognized your strength and capabilities.”
“He really said that?” Sybil asked, a tiny spark of hope flickering in her chest.
“According to what you told us, yes,” Beverly confirmed. “He wants someone who can guide his daughters without crushing their spirits. Someone who understands the value of both independence and discretion. That sounds like a man who sees exactly who you are and appreciates it.”
Sybil was quiet for a long moment, processing everything they’d said. Finally, she looked up at her friends.
“He wants me to help guide Lady Rosalie through her debut,” she said quietly. “That means going back to London. Facing thetonagain.”
“Yes,” Beverly said simply. “It does.”
“I haven’t been back since…” Sybil’s voice trailed off.
“Since Emmie,” Marge finished gently. “But perhaps it’s time. Perhaps facing those people as a duchess, with the power to help other young women, is exactly what your sister would have wanted for you.”
