Hazel let out a long, exhausted breath. “I suppose that scarcely matters.”
All three of her friends sat up straighter at that. Hazel stared at the untouched tea before her, the steam already fading. None of them had taken a sip. None of them seemed capable of it.
She continued quietly, “If I were anyone else,anyonewhose parents cared about her desires, perhaps things would be different. But to my mother and father, this is miraculous. A duke. A title. The elevation of our family. The improved prospects for my sisters.”
Cordelia’s eyes softened. “But what about your happiness?”
Hazel laughed, a small, humorless sound. “Cordelia, my happiness has never been a priority in my home.”
The words came out more sharply than she intended, but she didn’t take them back. Her friends’ hearts broke a little in the silence that followed.
Hazel rubbed her temples, feeling the ache settling deep behind her eyes. “I foolishly hoped that they might be outraged for me, outraged that I was trapped in a scandal through no fault of my own, outraged that I am now being marched toward a life I never asked for. But… no. They see only the advantage.”
Matilda reached out and took Hazel’s hand. Her touch was warm. “Hazel… I am outraged for you.”
Cordelia scooted closer, looping her arm through Hazel’s. “Utterly outraged. Scandalously so. I could throw something against the wall if you’d like.”
Evelyn rested her hand on Hazel’s knee. “And I,” she said quietly, “am here for you. Whatever you decide and whatever you need.”
Hazel’s throat tightened. She had spent the entire morning suffocating under her parents’ excitement and her sisters’ awe, feeling the weight of expectation settling like chains around her wrists. But here with her friends, she could breathe again.
Hazel leaned back against the cushions. “I do wish it would stop,” she whispered. “I wish someone, not just you, but someone who couldchangethings, would stop this. Just say no. Just say… Hazel does not want this.”
Cordelia pressed her forehead to Hazel’s shoulder. “Oh, darling, if I could storm your parents’ house and demand they listen to you, I would.”
Matilda squeezed Hazel’s hand. “It is unfair… deeply unfair.”
Evelyn nodded with sympathy. “But unfairness does not make you powerless, Hazel.”
Hazel swallowed hard. “It does if every person in my family is committed to ignoring me.”
The tea remained untouched. She felt as if her world was falling apart.
“Hazel,” Matilda pointed out gently, “you know Jasper considers Greyson a close friend.”
Hazel closed her eyes. “Yes, I am aware.”
“Which means,” Matilda continued, undeterred, “that I have known the Duke of Callbury for some time now.”
Hazel opened one skeptical eye.
Matilda smiled faintly. “I know what you are thinking. He is cold. Intimidating. A little… rigid.”
“A little?” Hazel muttered.
Cordelia coughed. “He does have the personality of a library statue.”
Evelyn elbowed her.
Matilda continued. “Underneath all that, Hazel, he is a decent man.”
Hazel’s lips pressed into a line. “Decent?” she repeated. “He offered marriage as if he were offering me… a coat. A spare coat he keeps for emergencies.”
Cordelia snorted. “I’d wager his spare coats get more enthusiasm.”
Matilda hid a smile, then grew serious again. “He is not… expressive. That much is true. But he is honorable. Jasper always said Greyson does precisely what he promises, no more, no less. And when he gives his word, he keeps it.”
Hazel shifted uncomfortably. “His word was a marriage of convenience. Which I suppose is… something.”
