Page 83 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

“It doesn’t matter what they’re saying,” she replied, “What matters is that I cannot…Wecannot… continue as we have been.”

“I feel as though we keep flogging the same dead horse here, Annabelle.” Weariness seeped into his voice. “What will I have to say to get you to believe my words? My feelings?”

“It’s not about any of those things.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Henry, you must understand. Your daughter’s future depends upon her reputation remaining untarnished. If society believes that her father is… involved… with a woman of my particular circumstances…”

“Your circumstances?” He moved to stand beside her and got close enough that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her breath. “You speak as though you’re some sort of pariah, Annabelle. As though your past defines everything you might become.”

“It did to you, the very first moment we met.” She turned to face him then, and he was startled by the raw pain in her expression.

“Because I was a fool the first time we met,” he replied, and Annabelle shook her head.

“No, you were right. You were always right.” She exhaled, her voice filled with dejection.

“Society’s memory is also remarkably selective,” Henry replied firmly. “They forget what they choose to forget and remember what serves their purposes. But more importantly, their opinions need not dictate our choices.”

“Our choices?” Annabelle shook her head and backed away from him. “There is no ‘our’ in this, Your Grace. There cannot be.”

The formal address made him want to yell at the top of his voice. He was barely holding on as it was.

“You’re frightened,” he said quietly. “Someone has frightened you. Who was it? What exactly did they say to you?”

For a moment, her careful composure wavered, and he glimpsed the vulnerability she worked so hard to conceal, her eyes shimmering in a way that make his chest tighten. But then her spine straightened, and the familiar mask of polite distance slipped back into place.

“That is not your concern. The truth remains: any association between us puts Celia at risk. She’s a lovely, innocent girl who deserves every advantage her birth and your position can provide. I will not be the reason society turns its back on her once she comes out.”

“I know that what exists between us is worth fighting for.”

“Is it, truly, Your Grace?” Annabelle opened her eyes, and he was struck by the desperation he saw there. “Is it worth watching Celia struggle to find a suitable husband because his parents remember her father’s scandalous attachment? Is it worth seeing her excluded from gatherings, whispered about in drawing rooms, and judged for choices that were never hers to make?”

He knew she spoke truly. Because these were the very same things that he’d sought to make sure his only progeny never had to go through at the hands of society. He’d never realized how much he would come to detest hearing them spoken back to him.

So, the questions hit their mark. Henry felt his certainty waver as he thought of his daughter—brilliant, curious Celia—who deserved every opportunity society could offer.

“We could weather their disapproval,” he said, though the words felt less certain than before. “Time has a way of softening even the harshest judgments.”

“Does it?” Annabelle’s laugh held no humor. “Tell me, Your Grace, how long did it take for society to forget Philip’s betrayal? How long before they stopped viewing me with suspicion and pity? Because I can assure you, the answer is that they haven’t. They never will.”

Henry felt something crack inside his chest at her words and the resigned pain in her voice. He wanted to argue, to insist that their situation was different, and that his position would shieldthem both. But the doubt she’d planted was taking root and spreading through his certainty like poison.

“Then what do you propose?” he asked quietly. “That we simply… end this? Pretend that what’s grown between us doesn’t exist?”

“Yes.” The word was firm, final. “That’s exactly what I propose.”

“And if I don’t agree? If I refuse to simply walk away?” he asked, his breath quickening.

Because he truly did not want to. He could not bear the thought of letting her go.

“Then you’re not the man I believed you to be.” Her voice was steady, but he could see her hands trembling. “Because the man I’ve come to know would never prioritize his own desires over his daughter’s welfare.”

The accusation struck him silent. She was right, of course; Celia’s future had always been his primary concern and the driving force behind every decision he’d made since her birth. Annabelle had begun to occupy a space in his thoughts that rivaled even his paternal devotion.

It wasn’t that he would not let her go. It was simply that hecould not.

“Marry me.”

The words left his lips before he’d fully formed the thought. His hastiness startled them both; Annabelle went completely still as her face drained of color.

“What did you say?” she asked.

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