Page 73 of His Auctioned Duchess
Caroline drew herself up, spine straightening beneath the weight of her shock. The wind tugged at her veil, whispering through the hedges as though mocking the silence between them.
“So, this is to be my wedding day,” she said, her tone measured but trembling at the edges. “A ceremony that ends not with vows but with abandonment.”
Richard turned away, pacing a few steps before stopping, his hands fisted at his sides. “You think I wish it? That I enjoy seeing you humiliated before all of London? I would tear out my own heart if it would undo this day. But I will not bind you to me out of pity, nor out of scandal’s convenience.”
She blinked at him, disbelief giving way to anger. “Convenience? Do you think I sought this for convenience? That I endured the ton’s leers, the gossip, the pity, because it amused me?”
He looked back at her then, and she saw the flicker of pain he tried so hard to mask. “No,” he said quietly. “Because you were brave enough to face me when no one else dared. And I will not repay that courage by chaining you to a monster.”
The word hung heavy between them.
She wanted to argue, to tell him that she did not see a monster, that she saw a man—flawed, broken, but still a man worth choosing. But the way he stood there, rigid and distant, told her it would be useless. He had already decided.
“And what of me?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Do I have no say in this? Must you always decide what I need, what I want, without even asking me?”
His expression hardened. “You deserve peace. Freedom. Not whispers and fear every time you enter a room.”
Her laugh came sharp and bitter. “Freedom? Is that what you call this? Dismissing me like a servant, as though I were some inconvenience?”
Richard’s face flickered with something that might have been shame. “I’m giving you a choice.”
“No,” she said, stepping closer. “You are taking one away. Again.”
The words struck home; she saw it in the way his eyes narrowed, the breath he drew too sharply. For a moment she thought he might reach for her, might argue, might beg her to understand—but he only shook his head.
“You will not have to continue the wedding and marry me. Luckily, we were interrupted before we could be joined,” he said finally.
“Luckily?”
“I knew it was Jasper. It was his button, the one we found that night. I knew he was beginning to lose himself in envy again, watching every moment we spent together.”
“But he loves Louisa,” Caroline whispered.
“And he hates it when I’m not suffering, it seems. I received a letter a few days ago that confirmed my suspicions. The man that he paid to have me press-ganged confessed. But this is goodnews for you. I don’t need to drag you into this mess, and you won’t have to marry soon. The scandal will linger long enough to keep other men at bay. Your family will have time to recover, and when it fades, you will be free to choose again.”
“Choose?” she whispered. “As though choice were some bauble tossed at my feet. You would cast me adrift in disgrace and call it kindness?”
He looked pained, but his resolve did not waver. “Better disgrace than misery.”
Her throat tightened. “And you? What will you do?”
“I will bear what I have earned,” he said simply. “Alone.”
There it was—that wall she could never breach, the fortress of solitude that defined him. For all his power, for all the storms in his eyes, Richard was a man who refused to be saved.
Caroline’s breath came ragged now, her composure cracking under the weight of his words. This was the freedom she had once claimed to want: no husband, no master, no binding contract. Yet hearing it spoken aloud by the one man she—she could barely bring herself to finish the thought—by the man she felt for, it hollowed her.
“Very well,” she said at last, forcing steel into her tone. “If that is your wish, Your Grace, I will not burden you further.”
He looked at her sharply, perhaps expecting tears, but her eyes were dry, her chin lifted high in defiance.
“I thank you,” she continued, each syllable cutting like glass, “for releasing me.”
She turned away before he could see the tremor that threatened to betray her. The gravel crunched beneath her slippers as she walked down the path, the train of her ruined wedding gown dragging behind her like a shroud.
Richard took a half step forward, then stopped. His fists clenched helplessly at his sides, the urge to call her name battling with the belief that he no longer had the right. The words stayed unspoken.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of roses and candle smoke from the chapel. The garden was still except for the flutter of her veil as it slipped free and caught on a branch. He watched it there, pale against the dark leaves, until it stilled.
