Episode 12

The Duke of Cavendish’s study was draped in comfortable shadows, illuminated only by the soft morning light filtering through the tall windows. The walls were adorned with family portraits and ornamental weapons — symbols of a legacy the Duke took great pride in displaying. Seated at his desk, he carefully examined a set of documents, his concentration unwavering.

“Cavendish,” Whitaker said, leaning casually against the doorframe, a cold smile on his lips. “I imagine you have something interesting to share, considering your summons at such an early hour.”

The Duke lifted his eyes just enough to assess the Marquees. “My actions are rarely dictated by the hour, Whitaker. But yes, there is something that requires your attention.”

With a gesture, the Duke grabbed a thick envelope and slid it across the desk toward Whitaker. The wax seal bore a familiar crest—Lady Penelope Ashbury, a highly influential social figure in London and the Duke’s sister.

Whitaker picked up the envelope, studying it carefully before breaking the seal. As he read, a slow smile formed on his lips. “A ball in London. And Lady Lilian will be the center of attention. What a perfect opportunity.”

“Penelope is my daughter’s godmother. Lilian’s presence is inevitable,” the Duke replied, his tone calm but firm. “And as her future husband, it is only natural that you accompany her. This event will reinforce her position as the future Lady Whitaker.”

“Certainly,” Whitaker said, leaning forward slightly. “Marrying Lilian is an honor, Cavendish. And it serves not only to solidify the alliance between our families but also to establish strategic positions.”

The Duke raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Strategic positions?”

Whitaker placed the invitation back on the desk and leaned into his chair, his smile growing colder. “There are opportunities that this marriage will make possible. Commerce, Cavendish. Controlling key trade routes and ports could be advantageous for all of us.”

The Duke pressed his lips together, thoughtful. “My goal is simple, Whitaker: to secure my daughter’s and my family’s future. I have no interest in involving myself in commercial disputes.”

“Understandable,” Whitaker said with a slight nod. “But your family’s stability depends on the stability of the kingdom. And commerce is what keeps everything balanced. Believe me, Cavendish, this union will not just benefit me. It will benefit everyone involved.”

The Duke paused, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair. “Lilian’s safety and well-being are my priority. I will not allow anything to tarnish her name.”

Whitaker smiled, his eyes gleaming with quiet confidence. “Of course not. I hold Lady Lilian in the highest regard. And, in due time, she will understand the important role she plays.”

“I hope so,” the Duke said, standing and adjusting his coat. “Because, Whitaker, if this union harms my family’s name, I will not hesitate to protect Lilian’s interests above all else.”

Whitaker also stood, adjusting his coat with his usual elegance. “You have my word, Cavendish. Your family’s reputation will be preserved. And in the end, all will recognize the value of this marriage.”

The Duke remained thoughtful for a moment. “Lilian does not yet know she is going to London or that you will accompany her. This ball and the time she spends there will be the perfect occasion to solidify your role as her future husband and earn her respect.”

“Consider it done, Cavendish,” Whitaker said, a faint note of irony in his voice.

The Duke nodded, satisfied. “Then prepare yourself. I will speak with her later today.”

Whitaker left the study with an unpleasant smile. Moments later, the Duke exited as well and made his way to the sitting room where Lilian usually spent her mornings. He found her seated by the window, her fingers idly playing with an embroidery piece she had started. Clara, standing a few steps away, watched the Duke with tense anticipation. The Duke entered, his presence imposing as always.

“Lilian,” the Duke said. “I need to speak with you.”

Lilian lifted her gaze, straightening in her chair, though her fingers still clutched the embroidery. “About what?” she asked, her voice laden with scepticism. “Haven’t we already had enough conversations?”

“Lilian, do not test my patience. I have received an invitation to a ball in your name, and this is not just any ball,” the Duke replied, stepping closer. “Lady Penelope, your aunt and godmother, is hosting this event in London. You will attend, not just as my daughter, but as the future Lady Whitaker.”

Lilian furrowed her brow, placing the embroidery on the table. “So, after announcing my engagement without my consent, you now use it as an excuse to parade me like a trophy?”