The clap of thunder outside was loud enough to mask the sound of their ragged breathing. Neither of them moved, but the air in the library was thick with danger and unspoken truth.
Elenora stared at Darius, the paper bearing the dead family's crest crinkling slightly in her hand. She was fighting the need to believe him.
"It might be a mere trick," Elenora said finally, her voice so low and steady the words barely carried. "A foolish scare."
"Scaremongers send letters by post, Duchess," Darius countered, stepping one pace closer to the firelight. "Killers send personalized items like this. The Elmsworth family didn't vanish by accident; your father knew. And now, someone is telling you the game isn't over."
"Game?" Elenora repeated with glacial fury. "What do you want, Darius? What is your price now?"
"My price," he said, his tone entirely practical, "is the only thing that can protect you from Montclaire and give me the authority I need to investigate your father's dark history."
Darius advanced toward her, stopping only when he was close enough that she had to tilt her chin back to meet his gaze.
"You will marry me," he stated simply.
Elenora froze. For a moment, she was sure the sound of the rain was merely the rush of blood in her ears. "You are mocking me."
"I am securing both our futures," he corrected sharply. "You will marry me immediately. Within forty-eight hours, before the news of the Elmsworth ship reaches the other Houses."
Her voice was a hiss. "Why? Why would I marry the man I despise to avoid the one I merely tolerate?"
"Because marrying me solves everything," Darius argued, holding her gaze. "It cancels Montclaire's offer instantly. It makes me your Duke, giving me legal access to your family's archives and the political clout to command the investigation. And it gives you protection under the Minister of the Crown. I become your cage, Elenora, but a cage that is capable of fighting back."
Elenora stepped back, fury finally breaking her composure. "You are suggesting I trade one prison for another! A gilded cage for an iron one!"
"No," he said, holding up a finger. "I suggest you trade the risk of death and humiliation for survival and power. I offer you strength. But I demand access to your full trust—meaning full access to your father's archives—without conditions."
Elenora felt the weight of her entire world crash down. She thought of the Elmsworth crest—a promise of vengeance connected to her childhood sorrow. She thought of her father, already moving to sell her off. She thought of the hostile eyes of the nobles at the banquet. She was completely alone.
"And what kind of marriage would this be?" she asked, her voice brittle.
"A necessary one," Darius replied, meeting her stare. "A contract of convenience. We maintain separate lives, separate chambers, and separate pride. Publicly, you are my wife, my ally. Privately, we are merely two business partners, hunting a shared enemy. You remain the Silent Duchess, and I remain the man you hate."
He stepped closer, dominating her space. "This is not about love, Elenora. It is about survival. Your silence failed you tonight. Now, tell me, are you prepared to fight alongside your enemy, or will you allow your pride to let your legacy—and you—die?"
Elenora looked at the Elmsworth message in his pocket, then into his storm-gray eyes. She saw no affection, only cold, hard competence. He was offering her the only lifeline available.
"Agreed," Elenora conceded, the single word costing her everything. "I will marry you. But listen well, Minister. I will marry you for Warwick, and for nothing else. If you try to destroy me, I will ensure you burn with me."
Darius offered a swift, humorless smile—the smile of a man who knows he has won the most valuable piece on the board. "I do not burn. I build. And now, we act. The marriage papers are already drafted."
"Change your clothes," Darius commanded. "No silk. No jewels. No Duchesses. Simple, dark attire, like what you wore when you sneaked off to the greenhouse."
Elenora did not question him. The marriage was the price, but the investigation was the war.
When she returned, Darius took the Elmsworth message from her hand, folded it neatly, and placed it in his coat pocket.
"Come, Duchess," Darius said, gesturing towards the darkened hall. "We have a dock to investigate, a family to protect, and a wedding to plan before the sun rises."
Elenora walked beside him. For the first time, she wasn't sure if she was walking towards her fate or away from it.
Cliffhanger:
In the deep gloom, Darius's simple black carriage waited at the back gate. He helped her climb in, his touch brief and purely functional.
As the carriage sped into the dark, rain-swept London night, Elenora settled into the corner. She touched her ring finger, still bare.
She was running away from one groom and toward another. She had traded her gilded cage for an iron one, and the bars were made of the raw, dangerous ambition of Darius Cain.
She had agreed to marry her enemy.