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He will not notice me once we leave the chapel, she assured herself, fingering the delicate necklace draped around her neck.

I will have some sort of freedom, at least. I will not have to be at his beck and call like a traditional, wanted wife.

“This option, as unexpected as it is, will be better,” she told Nancy, but perhaps she was more telling herself.

“I am certain.”

“Well, you are not marrying a sullied, arrogant lord, that is for sure.”

Eloise allowed herself an appreciative laugh at that. “I agree.”

Still, her teeth caught the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she had formed over the last several years. It was something that she also did when focused in thought.

“How did you come to meet him?”

“I wrote to him,” Eloise said simply. “I heard that the Duke of Oldcliff is the man to approach if you wish for something to be found out. It was my last hope, so I wrote to him in the hope that he could find something out about the Marquess that would garner a termination of my wedding.”

“Which he proved right,” Nancy noted.

Eloise nodded. “Very much so. I just… I do not know how to feel except to give this option a chance. It is better than ruin, enduring it beneath my parents’ thumb.”

“Indeed,” Nancy snorted, shaking her head. “If anything, it will give me leverage and a chance to boast that I am the best friend of a duchess.”

Her smile turned softer then, as she rose to drift on light feet to Eloise. At the same time, they each reached for one another, embracing in a moment of comfort.

“I will always be here for you, Eloise,” Nancy said softly into the side of Eloise’s face as she held her tightly. “Playfulness aside, you always have me. Whether this marriage works out or not, I will be present, even if you need to escape for a few nights; always come to me, all right?”

“I would not dream of going anywhere else.”

Nancy smiled against her cheek before pulling away.

Before Eloise could call Emily back into her chamber to do a last check, even though she was thoroughly prepared, her father entered. He was dressed in his best attire, face flushed with pride, as he beheld her from the doorway.

“Eloise, dear, it is time to leave for the church. His Grace has sent for your personal carriage. Do not keep him waiting, daughter.”

He gave a knowing incline of his head before he disappeared from the doorway. Eloise gave herself one last cursory glance at herself in the mirror before she linked her fingers into Nancy’s and left her chamber.

Before she left the townhouse, though, she turned to her friend and asked, “Do you think I can have more than this life?”

Nancy squeezed her hand tightly. “I think you can have everything you wish if only you let yourself take that step, no matter how terrifying it might feel.”

A week after Dorian had left St. George’s chapel, with Lady Eloise behind him, newly his betrothed, he was back at another church. He had specifically chosen another location to wed her so she had no former memories of her ruined ceremony.

He stood at the altar, dressed in a black tailcoat. His waistcoat and shirt beneath were the same color but were decorated throughout with golden thread. He knew it was the main color that the Wittbys’ crest favored, thanks to the ton gossip, so he wished to show his support for the family he was tugging a daughter from.

He knew the Wittbys were faux, yet their daughter… she had a streak of rebellion, as much as he had seen. She would not have written to him otherwise. And he saw that fire in her—she wanted to stray from the propriety enforced upon her, and Dorian, in a way, had offered her that by proposing.

In this, she would be free, and Dorian would give her whatever autonomy she wished. He did not care. He would not care. He could save himself from matchmakers and nosy Society gossips who wanted to know why he did not yet have a wife, and she would be saved from ruin.

“Dorian.”

It took him a moment to realize that Gideon Keswick, the Marquess of Lamberton, and a man that Dorian could call his best friend, had spoken to him.

“Yes?”

“You look nervous,” Gideon remarked.

Dorian turned, looking at Gideon, with his perfectly straight, dark hair and easy smile. Dorian did not smile so easily, not anymore. Gideon was the perfect image of a husband that any debutante would wish for.