The Duke Thought He Was Marrying An Ugly Girl, Until The Veil Lifted And His Life Fell Apart

Chapter 8

Eloise’s knees gave way.

She pressed a hand to the wall, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The mask she had worn all day — all year — finally cracked. Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and silent, cutting tracks through the powder she had applied so carefully.

Alexander reached her in two steps, his hands catching her elbows before she could fall. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to speak. Her chest heaved. The tears kept coming, and she could not stop them. All the fear she had held inside for two years, all the tension she had carried like a second spine, was pouring out of her in waves.

“I thought,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I thought I would always be alone against him. I thought no one would ever stand between me and that man.” She looked up at Alexander, her eyes wet and wide. “I thought I would have to fight him forever.”

Alexander’s voice was rough with emotion. “You are not alone. Not if you will have me.”

She stared at him. “You barely know me.”

“I know you are brave.” He said it simply, as if it were obvious. “I know you are clever. I know you walked into a church full of people who thought you were a monster, and you owned every moment of it. I know you threatened me. I know you trapped me. I know you held your ground against a man who has spent years trying to break you.”

He paused. “And I know that when I saw your face for the first time, I was not afraid of your beauty.”

Eloise’s breath caught.

“I was afraid of what it made me feel.”

The fire crackled between them. The world outside had gone dark. Rookford’s carriage was gone, swallowed by the night, the sound of its wheels fading into nothing. But the space between them had never felt more alive.

“Why did you defend me?” Eloise asked, her voice barely a whisper. “You could have let him in. You could have let him take me. It would have solved your problem. You would have been free of the contract, free of the clause, free of me.”

“No.” Alexander’s voice was firm. “You are not a problem to be solved. You are my wife. And I will not let any man treat you as less.”

Eloise searched his face, looking for the lie. She had spent two years learning to read deception — Rookford’s false smiles, her father’s careful silences, the servants who whispered behind her back. But Alexander’s face held nothing but truth. His eyes were steady. His jaw was set. His hands, still holding her elbows, were gentle but firm.

“I was prepared to hate you,” she admitted, the words coming out before she could stop them. “I planned to. I rehearsed it in my mind every night for weeks before the wedding. I told myself you were just like every other man — cold, using, cruel beneath the polish.”

“And now?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Now I do not know what you are. But I know I was wrong.”

Alexander’s voice was barely a whisper. “I was prepared to ignore you. I had already decided which rooms you would occupy, which hours I would avoid, which excuses I would use to keep my distance. I had built a cage for you in my mind.”

“And now?”

He looked at her, and something in his chest cracked open. “Now I want to tear down every wall I have ever built.”