Ashley stiffened, confusion plain on her face. “But why? Your wedding is in March. It’s all arranged.”
“March?” Maddie laughed lightly. “That’s two months away.”
“Exactly,” Ashley said, raising a brow. “The banns need to be read. Richard was very clear about the requirements.”
“Not if we have a special license,” Maddie countered, her voice lilting with certainty. She leaned forward, her gaze narrowing slightly. “But why March? And how does Mother know?” Why Richard, the Duke of Paisley?
The maid returned, trailing another behind her with a steaming jug of water. Both curtsied quickly as they set about pouring the heated water into the bath, their presence barely registering to Maddie as unease crept into her thoughts, casting doubt over her earliereuphoria. “Why March, Ashley?” she pressed, her voice softer now, almost trembling. Something wasn’t right.
Ashley hesitated, an uncharacteristic uncertainty flashing in her eyes before she drew a breath. “Because he accepted the dowry. They’ve set the date.”
Maddie shook her head, confusion clouding her features. “What are you talking about?” The words felt hollow, dread curdling her stomach.
Ashley’s voice dropped as she leaned in close enough that only Maddie could hear her. “The Duke of Paisley. He agreed to it, Maddie. Your mother and father finalized everything. The dowry is being transferred… I thought—” she trailed off briefly, swallowing hard. “I thought it was what you wanted. To be the Duchess of Paisley.”
Maddie’s world narrowed to just her spinning thoughts and the words that seemed to echo too loudly in her ears. The light-headed giddiness she’d been basking in dissipated like smoke, replaced with the sharp, cold sting of reality. Her chest ached, her lungs struggling to draw in air as the full weight of what Ashley had just revealed sank in.
“No.” The word was barely audible, a hollow whisper spoken more to herself than her friend. “No, no, no.”
Ashley reached out, but Maddie recoiled, sliding quickly off the bed to put the weight on her still-wobbling feet. Her back pressed against the post nearest the bed, her knuckles going white where they clutched it. The warmth Sebastian had wrapped her in earlier was gone now, stolen by the knowledge of what her family had done. What they thought they’d done to secure her future.
What they’d done to ruin her luck.
*
Sebastian led thehorses to the stable yard, his grip tight on the reins, each step deliberate as if holding back a storm.The air stung with the bite of leftover frost, and the horses’ breath puffed in little clouds as they snorted and tossed their heads. Stableboys rushed forward to take the reins. He handed them over with a brief nod, but the tension pulling at his shoulders didn’t ease.
“In there,” Thomas commanded abruptly, jerking his head toward the brewery door. His voice carried the unyielding edge of authority, adding weight to an order that wasn’t open for debate.
Sebastian followed, the crack of his boots against the stone loud in the cold quiet. Inside, the faint, earthy scent of hops mingled with the woodsmoke from the nearby hearth. Thomas shut the door behind them with more force than necessary before whirling to face him, his face tight with simmering frustration.
“What did you think you were doing?” Thomas snapped, his glare as sharp as flint.
Sebastian straightened, drawing himself up to his full height. His gaze didn’t waver. “You hardly have to ask me that, do you?” he replied, his voice even, low, and raw with conviction.
“It’s absolutely absurd,” Thomas growled as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. The gesture did little to tame his frustration. “I can’t believe you could be so stupid!”
“You’ve put your entire future at risk,” he continued, voice rising. “You interfered with the duke’s arrangement. Paisley’s not just some spoiled heir—he has ties to Whitehall. Influence that reaches into Parliament. If this blows up, it won’t be her reputation that’s ruined—it’ll be yours.”
Sebastian took a step forward, the composure in his expression cracking just enough for a brief flicker of anger to show. “Stupid, you say?” His words rolled out steady but firm, layered with restrained heat. “Why? Because I found the woman who makes me happy? Because I did what needed to be done to save her under that vicious avalanche?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!” Thomas snapped, exasperation flaringin his voice.
“Well, what are you saying?” Sebastian demanded, his voice cutting through the air like steel slicing wood. “The avalanche buried us so deep I didn’t think we’d come out of it alive. And you have the gall to criticize me now?” He stopped, drawing in a deep breath as the memory clawed at him. “You don’t know what it’s like until you’re under there. You don’t know how to crawl out.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened, but his voice dropped in volume, tinged with a shaky restraint. “Oh, I remember. I was fourteen, not stupid,” he said, grabbing a pint glass and filling it from a barrel. He took a long, hard swig, his throat working as he swallowed. “You saved us then, too.”
Sebastian’s shoulders relaxed a fraction as the memory washed over him. He crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Thomas. “And when I saved you, something changed. I realized you’d be my best friend forever. My brother. My family. It was no different with Maddie.” His voice softened—not weak but weighted with something unshakable. “I want her to be my family. My everything.”
Thomas lowered his mug, though his hand stayed firm on the handle. “Maddie, hm?” he said, though his tone was quieter now. He took another swig, tilting the pint glass back further than before.
“Yes,” Sebastian said. His voice was clear, steady as stone. “I love her. And you should know that.” He hesitated, a rare flicker of vulnerability appearing before he continued with a brow raised. “You and Ashley… you didn’t wait, either.”
At that, Thomas froze. His shoulders squared, though he didn’t immediately respond. The words hung in the air until he finally said, “Yes. Ashley and I… before the wedding. Fine. Obviously.” He glanced away for a moment, his jaw tightening. “But you shouldn’t have!”
“Why not me?” Sebastian shot back. The heat in his voice didn’t crest to shouting, but the force behind his words made it clear he wasn’t holding himself back. He crossedthe room in a few long strides, grabbing his own pint and filling it quickly. “I’ll get a special license. We’ll be wed.” Releasing a sudden breath, he dropped down onto a wooden bench, the worn corner of his pint clinking against the table. “I can’t wait. Never thought I’d say that. Never thought I’d be so… eager for a wedding.”
Thomas slammed his pint down on the table. It wasn’t hard enough to break it, but the impact was sharp enough to make Sebastian’s head whip up.
