"Who's Veronica Ashby?"
"Lord Ashby's daughter. Nineteen, well-educated, accomplished, appropriate." The word came out bitter. "My aunt has been cultivating the match for two years, apparently. Waiting for me to show any interest in marriage at all."
Lydia felt something cold settle in her stomach. She knew about arranged marriages; everyone did, but knowing about them in the abstract and having one crash into your life were different things entirely.
"And if you don't? Come to your senses, I mean?"
"She'll take steps." Frederick’s voice was flat, the way it got when he was trying very hard not to feel something. "She didn't specify what, exactly, but the implication was clear enough. She has connections, influence, the ability to make life difficult for anyone who crosses her."
"Difficult how?"
"She could hurt you, Lydia. Your reputation, your uncle's business, your standing in the village." He crossed the remaining distance between them, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders—not roughly, but with the kind of intensity that suggested he needed to hold onto something solid. "She could spread rumours. Turn people against you. Make it so no one would buy from the forge, no one would speak to you, no one would…"
"I know what she could do." Lydia cut him off, not unkindly. "I've heard stories about what happens when the aristocracy decides to destroy someone common. It's not pretty."
"You're not common."
"To her I am. To everyone in her world, I'm a blacksmith's niece who got ideas above her station." Lydia reached up and touched his face and felt the scratch of stubble against her palm, evidence that he'd been too distracted to shave. "The question is, what do you want to do about it?"
"I want to tell her to leave me alone and never bother me again."
Despite everything, Lydia felt a smile tug at her lips. "That's not very ducal of you."
"No. It's not." He was almost smiling too, now; a fragile thing, but real. "I burned her letter. The one she brought about Veronica Ashby. I threw it in the fire and watched it turn to ash, and I felt…" He broke off, shaking his head. "I felt free. For the first time in my life, I made a choice that was entirely my own, and it feltright."
"Frederick…"
"I'm not asking you to decide anything right now. I'm not asking you to fight my battles or face my aunt or do anything except know the truth." He squeezed her shoulders gently, then let his hands drop to take hers instead—both of them, holding them like they were precious. "I want you. Whatever that costs. Whatever I have to give up. I want you, and I'm going to keep wanting you whether it's convenient or not. You deserved to know that."
Lydia looked at him and felt her heart crack open in a way that was terrifying and wonderful all at once.
"You're a fool," she said softly.
"Probably."
"Your aunt is a viscountess with connections across England. I'm a blacksmith's niece who can barely read Latin."
"I don't care about Latin." He lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles—first one hand, then the other. "You speak a language I actually want to learn."
"That's…" She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "That's either very romantic or very strange."
"Why can't it be both?"
"You're impossible."
"I'm learning to be." He was definitely smiling now, that rare genuine smile that transformed his face from handsome-but-cold to something warmer, more human. "You're teaching me."
"I'm not teaching you anything. You're just…"
"Being myself. For the first time in all those years." He pulled her closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him even through the layers of clothing between them. "That's your fault. I was perfectly content being miserable before you came along."
"You were never content."
"No. I wasn't. But I wasusedto it, which is almost the same thing." His forehead came to rest against hers. "What do we do, Lydia? What do we do about my aunt, about her threats, about all of it?"
"We face it together." The words came out steadier than she felt. "Whatever she throws at us, we face it together. That's what you do when you…" She stopped, suddenly aware of what she'd almost said.
"When you what?"
