Page 5 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
The man blocked her way, another large hand hovering just above her arm, as though he was loath to touch her, but would if necessity dictated. “That would not be wise. Please resume your seat, Miss Swinton.”
Do you not recognize me?She wanted to scream. Her stomach twisted so violently, she wondered if she would empty her accounts all over the man’s polished Hessians. The tassels along the side almost seemed to mock her.
What was he doing in her house?
“Please…” she breathed, looking into his face once, searching for the kindness she had once found in him. “Tell me what happened? Will he be all right?”
Finally, his gaze flickered, the stoic expression there faltering for just a second. “Miss Swinton,” he repeated, and this time, his hand did land on her elbow, supporting her as he said, “I’m afraid your father has passed.”
Lydia didn’t recall her legs buckling, but she did recall the way the man supported her, leading her back to the bench so she might sit without fear of tumbling headlong to the ground. But awareness of this faded under the awful, sickening ringing in her head.
Passed.
That was one of those ridiculous words people used when they didn’t want to admit to the reality of things.
Dead. That was the word he meant.
Her father was dead. Her stomach lurched again, her chest tightening until she thought she might pass out. Her fists tightened, knuckles whitening, and she attempted to focus on the stranger’s face as he knelt before her.
“Dead,” she said, her voice too flat, not sounding at all like her.
He hesitated, searching her face, before he nodded. “I’m so sorry, Miss Swinton.”
The ice around her heart cracked. The numbness fled, leaving her with that feeling she had experienced before, the one where it felt as though that precious organ in her chest was being crushed. A physical, damning pain. If she could have dug her fingers through her skin and ripped it out, she would have done.
Dead. The last member of her family, gone forever.
A ragged breath left her lips, and her face crumpled. She gave one hoarse sob and leaned in to the man, silently asking for comfort. All around them, chaos still reigned, but all she wanted was for someone to hold her, make her jagged, twisted world make sense once again.
But Alexander hesitated, the hand on her elbow moving to her shoulder to stop her from sinking into his arms. This time, there would be no embrace. Humiliation flashed through her, and she placed both hands over her face, tears wet against her fingers.
This was not the man she remembered, so cold and unwelcoming. What happened to the boy who had drawn her into his arms without a second’s thought?
“He was all I had left,” she sobbed. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Baron Scunthorpe, she thought distantly.
Perhaps he would be prevailed upon to offer for her sooner rather than later—but without her father, she didn’t know if he could be persuaded to take that final step. After all, her father was an influential man. He held a position in the House of Lords and had a vast fortune to his name. Would that fall to her? She suspected not; all she had to her name was her dowry.
In one moment, she had lost her home, her world, everything she had come to hold dear. Where would she go next? Who would take her in? As far as she knew, she had no immediate family. Her father had been the last person in the world to care for her...
Another shuddering sob racked its way through her.
“As for what will happen to you,” Alexander said gruffly, “I was with your father until the end, and his last words were to make provisions for you.”
His words barely penetrated. She attempted to listen, but nothing made any sense.
“You may not know this, but I am the Duke of Halston, and your father requested I marry you so you are provided for.”
Lydia lifted her head, blinking through the tears to bring his face back in focus. He was looking at her with perfect seriousness, which suggested this was not some kind of cruel jest. But the things he was suggesting—marrying her when he barely knew her, all for the sake of providing for her now her father had died—seemed utterly ridiculous.
She sniffed, fishing for her handkerchief. “You wish to marry me?”
If anything, his eyes grew colder. “I feel a certain…responsibilitytoward you,” he clarified, which explained nothing. Why would he have any responsibility toward her when he clearly didn’t even recognize her as the girl he had rescued all those years ago? “The marriage will be a temporary arrangement, lasting a single year. After that, we shall annul it, but you will be forever after protected as my wife, and with a portion of my fortune placed on you. I will also gift you a property of mine.”
She moutheda property, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying. “You wish to marry me for a year…?”
“Precisely.”
