She turned away, blinking back tears of fury. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. But her father was right. She couldn’t allow her siblings’ reputations to be impacted by her actions.
And that meant she must marry.
Three days forced to hide away in her family home had driven Olivia nearly mad. She paced her bedchamber like a caged animal, her maid Martha watching with wary sympathy.
“His carriage has arrived, my lady,” Martha said, nodding toward the window.
Olivia hurriedly crossed the room. The Ravenswood Crest was on full display. Her father had captured the attention of Ravenswood with his inquiries. He’d turned away all other options, hoping the power and influence of another duke would be just the connection that saved them all.
The war veteran had become the Duke of Ravenswood after his father and brother had passed, forcing him to retire from his officer position. She could only imagine how cold and miserable a military man might be. And wouldn’t he be just like most other men in power? Seeking to claim her body and her dowry while overlooking her “indiscretion” like some benevolent savior.
“Oh, he’s handsome!” Martha exclaimed.
Olivia couldn’t deny that. He had thick dark chestnut hair and a tall, towering frame. Each of her father’s footmen straightened as he passed.
Moving away from the window, Olivia paced her chamber, awaiting the inevitable summons from her father. He had already expressed to her the importance of the match. She must agree to wed Ravenswood.
After what felt like hours, she was finally called to go directly to her father’s study. Even though she was curious about the handsome duke, she still took her time descending the stairs, moving with deliberate slowness. If she were to be inspected likea horse at auction, she would hold her head high and not appear as if she owed the men anything.
But when she entered the room, she hadn’t been prepared for her reaction to the man. Her breath halted as she took in the Duke of Ravenswood. He stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, showcasing his broad shoulders and muscular chest. His handsome face must have been carved from granite. It was sculpted with all hard angles and perfect, unforgiving lines. His dark hair, with just a bit of silver around his temples, fell just long enough to be considered unfashionable, and his eyes were a piercing gray that studied her with unsettling intensity. Beneath one ear was a scar that she assumed was from his days at war.
“Your Grace,” her father said. “I present my daughter, Lady Olivia.”
She curtseyed, the movement automatic. “Your Grace.”
“Lady Olivia.” His voice was low and smooth, and it did things to her insides.
“His Grace has offered for your hand,” her father announced without preamble.
Olivia kept her expression neutral, even as her heart hammered against her ribs. “Indeed?”
“The arrangements are agreeable to me,” Ravenswood continued. The lack of emotion in his tone irritated her. “We have made all the settlements.”
“How efficient,” she said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. “And are congratulations in order, or am I to be consulted on the matter?”
Her father’s face darkened. “Olivia?—”
“It’s a fair question,” the duke interrupted. His expression remained unreadable. “Lady Olivia, I believe we might suit. I require a duchess. You are in need of a husband. Recent circumstances have made your position precarious, while I findmyself unexpectedly elevated to a title that can provide you with the protection you seek.”
His bluntness was almost refreshing.
“And the truth of my scandal?” she asked boldly. “Does that not concern you?”
Olivia couldn’t quite identify the emotion that flickered in his gray eyes. It wasn’t disgust or judgment, but more akin to curiosity mixed with a hint of desire. Perhaps, it was a protective instinct she hadn’t expected.
“I’ve experienced far worse than petty society matters on the battlefield, my lady.” His voice softened slightly. “And a young woman taken advantage of by an unscrupulous artist deserves protection, not condemnation.”
The unexpected defense surprised her. Most men would have seen her as ruined—damaged goods to be reluctantly accepted for the right price.
“Do I have a choice in this matter?” She looked between the two men. She knew she didn’t. Her father had already made his expectations known. But it didn’t mean she had to make things easy for them.
Her father began to speak, but Ravenswood raised his hand slightly, and remarkably the Duke of Harborough fell silent.
“You always have a choice,” Ravenswood said. “Though some choices carry heavier consequences than others.”
His steady gaze made her pulse quicken. It contained not a threat, precisely, but a quiet, immovable authority. This was not a man accustomed to being refused.
“May I speak with Lady Olivia alone?” he asked her father.
