Episode 22

The night wrapped London in a golden glow as elegantly adorned carriages glided over the cobbled streets toward Lady Penelope’s grand residence. The mansion, illuminated by golden chandeliers, gleamed beneath the flickering lanterns that adorned the wrought-iron gates. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the crisp night air, while the murmurs of high society drifted like an endless melody.

For Lilian, each of those carriages was a step further toward a destiny she had not chosen. For Gabriel, they were merely decorative, secondary to the real reason he was there tonight: to win Lilian before it was too late.

Inside the residence, Lady Penelope observed the final preparations with keen attention. The ballroom glowed under the grandeur of towering crystal chandeliers, their light reflecting on the polished marble columns. Servants moved with discreet efficiency, adjusting lavishly adorned tables with floral arrangements and gleaming crystal glassware.

Clara ensured that everything was in order, her sharp eyes scanning every detail.

"My dear," Lady Penelope teased, her tone a mix of amusement and pride, "if you become any more meticulous with these details, I may have to name you the house’s new governess."

Clara hesitated for a moment, surprised, before offering a shy smile. "I only want everything to go well."

Lady Penelope sighed, her gaze drifting toward the staircase that led to Lilian’s chambers. No matter how beautiful the ball was, she knew that her goddaughter would feel trapped by her father’s decision.

"She will need all the support she can get tonight," she murmured thoughtfully.

The Duke of Cavendish had arrived in London that afternoon and had already settled into the rooms reserved for him in his sister’s house. Lady Penelope had wasted no time and had used a private moment in her study to relay the events of the past week to him, particularly Whitaker’s behavior in the garden.

Seated in a dark leather armchair, the Duke listened impassively, a glass of wine in hand, his fingers drumming lightly along the rim.

"Penelope, my dear," he began, his tone patient, "women sometimes have a natural tendency to dramatize minor situations. I have complete confidence in Lord Sebastian. He is a man of status, influential, and his union with Lilian will bring only benefits."

Lady Penelope narrowed her eyes. "Benefits for whom? Lilian, or you?"

The Duke chuckled, as if the accusation were absurd. "For our family, of course. He has valuable connections at court, commercial influence, and a respected name."

"His influence means nothing to me if he doesn’t respect Lilian." Lady Penelope’s voice hardened. "And you should pay more attention to how he treats her. I tried to warn you that he intimidated her in the garden. What more do you need to realize that this engagement cannot continue?"

The Duke took a measured sip of wine, his patience wearing thin. "What I see is that my daughter is behaving like a spoiled child. She needs to learn that marriages are not built on romantic dreams but on alliances."

Lady Penelope stared at him in frustration. "And if Lilian doesn’t want him? Will you force her into a miserable marriage just to satisfy your pride?"

The Duke placed his glass on the table with a sharp sound. "I am her father, Penelope. I know what is best for her."

"Better for her?" Lady Penelope crossed her arms, indignant. "Or better for you, who intend to secure your position at the expense of your daughter's happiness?"

The Duke tried to maintain his composure, but a flicker of irritation crossed his face. "I will not argue with you about this, Penelope. The decision has been made. Lilian will marry Whitaker, and that is final."

Rage boiled inside Lady Penelope, but she held it back with controlled effort. She knew her brother would not back down with mere words, but that did not mean she would accept his decision without a fight. If he was willing to sacrifice his own daughter to satisfy his ambitions, then it fell upon her to ensure that Lilian did not pay the price. This engagement would be broken, whether the Duke accepted it or not.

She straightened her shoulders, her gaze turning cold and unyielding. "You may refuse to see what is right in front of you, but I will not stand idly by. Lilian will not be trapped in a fate she did not choose."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the study, her firm footsteps echoing down the hallway. If he refused to see the danger, she would take matters into her own hands and remove Lilian from Whitaker’s grasp before it was too late. And nothing would stand in her way.

***

Lilian's bedroom was bathed in a golden twilight, lit only by flickering candlelight and the moonlight streaming through the windows, the night breeze gently stirring the curtains. Seated before the ornate vanity, Lilian stared at her own reflection in the mirror.