The words landed like a blow to the chest.
Debt. Disgrace. Duty.
Every dream he had clung to began to splinter. Violet had no fortune, no title, nothing but her heart, and he had promised her everything.
“Very well,” the Earl said coldly. “If you lack the resolve, I will see to it that the engagement is announced in the papers myself.”
William’s hands clenched until his nails bit his palms. Fury and grief twisted together, choking him. He wanted to shout, to tell his father that love was worth more than gold, that duty was nothing beside her, but the words caught behind histeeth. What if she truly had forgotten him? What if she had chosen silence? Or worse, what if she regretted loving him at all?
The room seemed to close in around him. The scent of smoke, the crackle of the fire, the steady tick of the mantel clock—it all blurred. He could see only Violet’s face, her eyes full of faith, the way she had whispered,Then go, that you may hurry back to me.He felt her trust like a weight pressing against his chest, too pure for the world he belonged to.
And so he said nothing. He could not agree, but he could not defy them either. His silence was its own betrayal.
In that quiet surrender, clarity struck with cruel force. He had erred from the beginning—he had never truly been free to promise Violet a future. Not with a title bound to his name, not with his family’s ruin pressing down like a weight. He thought of her laughter, of their whispered vows, of the fierce way she loved him. And he knew, with a bitter twist of shame, that he was unworthy of it.
He wanted to be strong enough. He wished he could fight his family for what he wanted, for what he knew was right. But strength born of love was no match for the chains of duty. And love, he realized, could break a man just as surely as it could save him.
Chapter Six
The kitchen smelled of bread and roasting meat, steam curling against the beams as Violet worked beside her mother. She was dusted with flour to the elbows, humming softly as she kneaded dough, but every breath made her stomach tighten. The scents she had once loved now turned her queasy, and she had to breathe carefully through her mouth to keep from losing her breakfast.
She had told no one, not even her mother, but she was nearly certain now. It had been almost three months since that spring afternoon beneath the oak, when William had whispered his vow against her skin. Her courses had not come since, and the faint fullness low in her belly made her heart race with a mix of terror and secret joy. William’s child. Their child. She pressed her floury hands against her apron for a moment, as though to shield the life hidden beneath.
She tried to picture his face when he read her last letter—the one she had sealed with trembling fingers and kissed before sending. Surely, once he knew, he would come. Perhaps he was already on his way, riding through the night, determined to claim her and their babe before the Season was done. Surely he would know what to do. William always knew what to do.
The rhythm of her humming faltered, but she forced it back, a fragile comfort. Her mother glanced at her curiously but said nothing, too busy basting the joint at the hearth.
And then the sound came, boots in the corridor, firm against the flagstones. Violet’s heart leapt. She knew that tread, that steady stride. She wiped her hands quickly on her apron, breath catching in her throat.
He had come.
William.
She abandoned the dough on the floured counter, wiping her hands against her apron, and ran to the doorway.
There he stood, tall and solemn, his eyes shadowed. Violet did not see his gravity—only the man she loved, the man who had sworn he would come back for her. Joy broke across her face like sunlight through storm clouds.
“William,” she whispered, her heart soaring. Surely he had received her letter. Surely he knew.
But his expression did not soften.
“We need to talk.”
The words were heavy, but she clung to her hope as she led him through the back door into the garden. Roses bloomed along the wall, the air sweet with their scent. She turned toward him, arms half-lifted, ready to fling herself into his arms.
He stepped back.
“Please,” he said tightly. “Keep your distance.”
Her smile faltered.
“I don’t understand. Why… why are you looking at me so?”
His jaw worked as though the words pained him.
“I have come to a decision,” he said. “While I was away, I realized the truth. We are too different, Violet. The promises I made cannot stand.”
The world tilted. Her hands trembled as she reached toward him, then drew back.
