“Well, the problem isn’t you or her,” Thomas said, his words colder now, as if rehearsed. “The problem is, it’s already a done deal.”
Sebastian stiffened, the warmth of his thoughts snapping into cold focus. “A done deal?”
Thomas’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Her parents transferred the dowry. They’ve promised her to Paisley.”
The words struck like a blow to the ribs—unexpected and breath-stealing. For a brief moment, he didn’t move. The pint sat idle in his hand, forgotten. When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate. He set the glass down gently, the scrape of it against the table breaking the heavy silence.
“To Paisley,” Sebastian repeated, his voice a half-growl of disbelief. He stood, the movement fluid but carrying a weight that seemed to pull the air out of the room. His brows pulled together, and his chest rose as he inhaled deeply, his fists relaxing and clenching in rhythm.
“Yes, to Paisley,” Thomas said, equally slow but firm. “That’s how these things work.”
Sebastian shook his head, his jaw set tight. “Not for us. Not for Maddie,” he said, his voice dropping lower, conviction anchoring every syllable. “I don’t care about their arrangements. Their dowry.” He stepped toward Thomas, no more anger than before, but plenty of unrelenting resolve. “If Paisley thinks she’s his, he’ll have to go through me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, but there was no humor init. His next words came like a thunderclap. “And he’ll regret it.”
“Or you will.”
Thomas didn’t say it like a threat. Just a truth. And that made it worse.
*
“I cannot believeyour mother betrothed you to Paisley!”
Sera’s outrage exploded through the room, sharp and immediate, making Maddie wince.
She couldn’t believe it either. “I think,” Maddie said faintly, lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed, newly changed into warmer clothes, “I am still in shock.”
Her sleeves were thick, but her fingers remained stiff and numb. The chill that had left her while wrapped in Sebastian’s arms had returned the moment they’d stepped into the castle. Her whole body was cold, in fact. A cold no fire could shake. But even so, “shock” felt too small a word. It was disbelief wrapped in betrayal, wrapped in helpless fury.
“Dear,” Charlene said, gliding to her side and taking her hand, “you are more than in shock. You are in a state of emotional ruin. Has anyone brought you sweet milk?”
“I’m not pregnant, Charlene.”
“No, but you’re promised to Paisley, which is far worse.”
“I resent that comment,” Ashley muttered from the side.
Charlene shook her head. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I’m not promised. I didn’t say yes. I will not marry Paisley,” Maddie declared, the words low but unshakable—as much for herself as for anyone else. No matter what.
“Well, your mother can’t very well engage you to the duke, right? Not without the permission of your father.”
Charlene sat back, visibly impressed. “That’s… actually rather brilliant, Sera.”
Sera preened. “Thank you. I do have moments.”
Maddie let the thought settle in her mind. Her father. Right. His mother’s word usually held supreme. He rarely raised his voice—rarer still did he raise objections—but he had always, always, wanted Maddie to be happy.
“He’ll side with you,” Ashley said softly, nodding. “You are his favorite child.”
Maddie swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. “He might. If he’s not already been flattened beneath Mother’s momentum.”
“He is a man,” Sera said. “He has rights. And opinions. Somewhere. Likely buried beneath a stack of botanical journals, but they’re there.”
That earned a reluctant curve of Maddie’s lips. Just barely, but it counted.
Charlene leaned in, eyes imploring. “You can’t let your mother steamroll you into this. Not when your heart—and your body—are already somewhere else.”
