Page 55 of Duke of Pride

Stephen inhaled. He looked down, his shoulders shagging. Then, he nodded as if to himself. “I understand.”

Those were the words she had wished to hear all her life. Nothing more than that. That someone understood her. That this social norm that all the ladies wanted was to secure a husband was not true. Not for everyone.

“And your brother?”

“Let’s just say that he is not as understanding.” Victoria looked away in pain.

“Well, I can’t blame the man. I mean, he grew up with you,” Stephen teased.

Victoria glared at him, but he chuckled.

“But I do understand, Victoria. Or I think I am starting to. You see, my father…”

His voice was low with something like regret.

“He was a good duke,” he continued. “A proper one. But he…” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “He thought affection was indulgence. That duty came before love. My mother. She also suffered.”

The admission hung between them, fragile and unexpected. Victoria had always assumed that Stephen idolized his father, the stern, unshakable Duke of Colborne. But now she saw the truth: he’d learned distance from a man who prized it.

“I only realized it these past few days. Seeing my mother, the way she was when Annabelle and I were young. And even so, you thought that my mother was at her worst when my father died. You’d be shocked to see her when he was alive.”

They looked at each other. The silence was charged. Not in a bad, uncomfortable way. But it was too deep, too raw and real. They showed their wounds, their bare fears, in a way that they hadn’t done for anyone else. Victoria had to lighten the mood before she lost all good sense.

“That is why I prefer mathematics. Safer.”

“Saferis good, but even your mathematics are open to the possibility.”

“The possibility?”

“Of a good marriage? Like Annabelle and Frederick have. Like your brother and Penelope. Against all odds if I might add.”

“A statistical error, for sure.”

“A margin for success.”

Her breath caught. The true meanings of his words shimmered between them, dangerous and sweet. He felt it too, and it was his turn to raise that frail wall between them.

“You understand that this is the way Society works, Victoria? Unfair, poor, and few—those are the choices you have.”

“I understand. My brother is too much, I can’t be myself around him, and somehow, it hurts more than having to pretend for a stranger. A husband.”

Stephen nodded. Then, he gave her a weak smile.

“So, let’s approach it mathematically, then. What do your calculations say? Who has the most chance to be an ideal husband for you?”

Something inside her stung. That question… it reminded her that no matter what they have shared, for him, she was always an obligation he would like to get rid of.

She narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and gave her verdict. “The Duke of Blackwell.”

The hot, humid air in the greenhouse cooled rapidly. His look turned glacial, his smile vanished, wiped clean as though she’d struck him.

“You are not serious,” he said, the words clipped.

Her suspicions from when she heard him call her name came back. Stephen pretended for days that nothing had happened between them. He had insisted that all he wanted was to marry her off. And now he was losing his composure at the mention of the Duke of Blackwell?

Oh, this is going to be good.

“Why not?” Victoria arched an eyebrow, folding her arms, all mockery and daring. “He’s a good prospect—titled, wealthy, and charming.”

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