“What is so humorous that you must laugh so, Aunt?” she asked, completely bewildered. “The fortune that awaits the duke is massive, but he cannot inherit it without my marrying someone.”
“I did not want to tell you so sooner than I had to,” her aunt explained, leaning forward. Her face was full of mischief, but there was also something else there. Regret? “But you must know now if it means you get to enjoy your freedom. The will was forged, Anastasia.”
Anastasia’s jaw went slack. Her mind went blank for a moment as she tried to grasp the old woman’s confession. “W-what did you say?”
“I repeat, the will was forged.” The dowager did not sound apologetic at all. “I paid the solicitor to readmyversion of the original document. This version has a ridiculous condition about you getting married. Ingenious, was it not?”
“You cannot be serious! You lied. You forged a legal document, and on something as serious as a duchy’s succession and inheritance? I did find it strange that I factored it in since the late duke did not care about me at all. So, it was you all along? Oh, Aunt, you made everything up! Benedict will have your head if he finds out!”
She slumped back, the relief of freedom battling against the horror of betrayal.
“I did this for you. I had hoped that you and Benedict would end up together,” her aunt explained remorselessly. “You need a husband. You need someone who can protect you, and he has the power and capability to do that.”
“That is why you drove away all the other suitors! You knew all along I did not need to marry any of them. The will was not real, but it at least explains the pretense of matchmaking,” Anastasia breathed out, shocked at how far her aunt went on her little scheme.
“Precisely,” the dowager duchess declared, looking completely delighted. “I told you that I would protect you no matter what.”
Anastasia slumped back into her chair, trying to let the soft surface of the chair comfort her weary back. She felt dizzy with relief and horror. She did not know that her aunt was capable of such mischief. On the other hand, she was free! She did not have to marry to please her aunt or to ensure that Benedict got his fortune. The freedom came at a cost, though.
Her heart.
“You are devilish, aunt,” she said with wonder, admiration tumbling out with her initial fury.
“Oh, but I am. I always am,” the old woman admitted, with a laugh. “Even before I paid the solicitor to read my version of the will. Now, he will return to Frostmore to claim that he found a more recent one. This time, he will provide Benedict with his fortune with no conditions.”
“He will get everything he always wanted,” Anastasia whispered, seeing through eyes that were becoming blurry with tears threatening to fall. “He will have his title and fortune, uncontested. He is now free to marry Penelope Alistair or any other woman of reason.”
Anastasia realized that she was now truly free: from the will, from Frostmore, and from the duke. However, it also meant she was free from the terrifying hope she had not meant to build with him. She would leave nothing behind—a vacuum.
“Yes,” the dowager said glumly.
Anastasia realized that she did not need to return to Frostmore. She would have to send for her things and disappear, so she would not have to face Benedict if he ever decided to thank her for his newfound freedom.
Chapter 24
Benedict thought that Anastasia was getting better at hiding. For the past few days, he had not caught even a glimpse of her. He would usually see the hem of her dress or the profile of her face in some corners as she hurried to her next destination.
He stalked the Frostmore halls with a sharper focus. He was like a predator who had no hope of seeing his prey, but at least he would have the same calculated pace he used to. This time, he was impatient and agitated.
Where could she be?
He checked the music room, the library, and even the kitchens. Each choice seemed more ridiculous than the last. He would even prefer it if he could see her flirting with a servant to spite him.
Anything.
His desperation knew no bounds, even leading his feet to the dowager’s solar. His blood ran cold when he found the room empty and chilly, with the fire out. The dowager’s knitting basket lay there, undisturbed as if tucked in long before. It wasunnaturally quiet, considering it was the old lady’s room. At the moment, it was nothing but empty air, polished wood, and the bare minimum to suggest she had even been there.
Then, he searched for the dowager’s dogs. After scouring the gardens and the pond, he missed their yapping.
Finally, he summoned the butler.
Even though he was starting to suspect that she had left, the very idea pained him. The house’s silence was unnerving. He was used to living alone with his servants, but after Anastasia, he could no longer imagine not having her there. He would even miss the dowager and Lupita and Pepita.
“I regret to inform Your Grace that Miss Dawson and Her Grace are not in Frostmore. They departed for London two days ago while you were visiting the House of Lords.”
“Departed?” The word suddenly felt strange on his tongue.
Why would she leave? Why did she not at least send him a note if she could not bear to see his face?
