They Called Her the Family’s “Invisible Failure”—Until the Duke Said, “Pretend to Be My Fiancée at the Christmas Ball,” With One Impossible Rule: No Real Feelings. But Days Before the Ball Began, He Was the First to Break It.
PART 6
Meline felt tears prick her eyes.
“You do not mean that. You cannot mean that.”
“Why can I not?”
“Because men like you do not marry women like me.” The words burst from her like a dam breaking. “You are a duke, Adrien. You could have any woman in England — beautiful, accomplished, wealthy women with impeccable connections. Why would you choose someone who has been rejected by society? Someone whose own family barely tolerates her? Someone who brings you nothing but the scandal of an unequal match?”
“Is that truly what you believe?” His voice was soft now, almost wondering. “That you bring me nothing?”
“What else am I to believe?”
He released her shoulders and took a step back, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration.
“Meline — when I look at you, do you know what I see?”
She shook her head, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
“I see a woman who has endured years of cruelty with grace and dignity. A woman whose intelligence intimidates lesser minds. A woman who reads voraciously, thinks deeply, and speaks with an honesty that is rarer than diamonds in the circles I inhabit.”
He moved closer again, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur.
“I see a woman whose smile makes my heartbeat faster. Whose laughter is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. Whose courage in the face of rejection humbles me.”
“Adrien—”
“I see the woman I want to wake up beside every morning for the rest of my life. The woman I want to share my thoughts with, my fears with, my triumphs with. The woman I want to build a life with — away from the judgment of society, in a place where we can simply be ourselves.”
A tear slipped down Meline’s cheek.
“I am frightened.”
“So am I.” He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “I’m terrified, Meline. Because this is real — and real things can hurt us. But I would rather face that fear with you than spend the rest of my life in the comfortable numbness I inhabited before we met.”
“What if it does not work?”
“What if it does?” He countered. “What if we are brave enough to reach for what we want, instead of settling for what is expected? What if we build something extraordinary together?”
Meline stared up at him, her heart warring with her mind.
Everything she had learned, everything she had experienced, told her this was impossible. Dukes did not marry spinsters. Men like Adrien did not fall in love with women like her.
And yet his hands were still cradling her face with infinite tenderness. His eyes held hers with an intensity that seemed to see straight through to her soul.
“I am falling in love with you,” she whispered. “I have been trying so hard not to. But I am. And it terrifies me.”
Adrien’s answering smile was like sunrise breaking over a dark horizon.
“Good. Because I’m already hopelessly in love with you. And it would be dreadfully unfair if I had to suffer alone.”
Then he kissed her.
It was not the chaste, restrained kiss of propriety. It was a claiming. A declaration. A promise — all wrapped into one perfect moment. Meline melted into him, her hands fisting in his coat, her entire world narrowing to the taste of his lips, the warmth of his embrace, the rightness of being held by him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Adrien rested his forehead against hers.
“We are going to cause a scandal.”
“Undoubtedly.” Meline could not stop smiling. “But I find I no longer care what society thinks.”
“That is because you are finally free, my darling.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Free to be yourself. Free to be loved as you deserve. Free to be mine.”
“And you are mine, Adrien.” The words felt like a vow. “No more running. No more hiding. No more pretending.”
“No more pretending,” he agreed. “But we still have a Christmas ball to attend. And I believe we owe your family quite the performance.”
Meline laughed — a sound of pure joy.
“I suppose we do. Though after everything that has happened, I am no longer certain how to distinguish between performance and reality.”
“Then we shall simply be ourselves,” Adrien said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Two people who have been foolish enough to break their own rule and fall desperately in love. I suspect that will be shocking enough for everyone.”
The morning of the Christmas ball dawned clear and cold, the winter sun casting long shadows across the snow-covered grounds of Winterborn Manor. The entire household was in organized chaos — servants rushing with final preparations, guests arriving throughout the day, the ballroom being transformed into a glittering winter wonderland.
Meline stood at her bedroom window, watching carriages arrive one after another, disgorging London’s elite in a steady stream. In a few hours she would descend the grand staircase on Adrien’s arm and face all the people who had dismissed and mocked her.
“Meline.”
Charlotte slipped into the room, her expression concerned.
“You have been standing at that window for nearly an hour. Are you well?”
“I am overwhelmed,” Meline admitted. “Everything is happening so quickly. Two weeks ago I was invisible. Now I am to be engaged to a duke.”
Charlotte moved to stand beside her.
“Officially engaged.”
Meline turned to her sister in surprise.
“You know?”
“I suspected from the beginning that something was not quite what it appeared,” Charlotte said gently. “The Duke looked at you with too much calculation at first — as though he was solving a problem rather than courting a lady. But then, over the past days, that changed. He looks at you now as though you are the sun, and he a planet caught in your orbit.”
“He wants to make it real,” Meline confessed. “The engagement. He says he will speak to Father after the ball tonight.”
“And what do you want?”
It was such a simple question. And yet Meline found herself struggling to answer. For so many years she had trained herself not to want anything. Not to hope. Not to dream.
“I want to believe it is possible,” she finally said. “That someone like Adrien could genuinely love someone like me. But Charlotte, I am so frightened. What if this is all a beautiful dream that shatters the moment we face reality? What if his family objects? What if society refuses to accept me as a duchess? What if he realizes he has made a terrible mistake?”
Charlotte took her hand and squeezed it.
“Those are valid fears, sister. But answer me this — do you love him?”
“Yes.” Meline whispered it. “Heaven help me. But I do.”
“Then that is all that matters. Love is always a risk, Meline. But some risks are worth taking.”
A knock interrupted them. Charlotte opened the door to reveal Lady Amelia, dressed in her own finery for the evening.
“Meline, I—”
Her mother stopped. Her eyes widened.
“My darling girl. You look absolutely beautiful.”
It was perhaps the kindest thing her mother had said to her in years. Meline felt her throat tighten.
“Thank you, Mama.”
Lady Amelia crossed the room and took both of Meline’s hands in hers.
“I owe you an apology,” she said quietly. “For years I have allowed others’ opinions to color my treatment of you. I convinced myself that by lowering my expectations, I was protecting you from disappointment. But I see now that I was only adding to your pain.”
“Mama, please—”
“Let me finish.” Her mother’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Watching the Duke of Stormhold court you these past two weeks has shown me what I should have seen all along. You are extraordinary, Meline. Intelligent. Kind. Resilient beyond measure. Any man would be fortunate to call you his wife — duke or otherwise.”
Meline embraced her mother, years of hurt beginning to heal in that single moment.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “That means more than you know.”
“Now.” Lady Amelia stepped back, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “The Duke is waiting for you downstairs. He asked me specifically to tell you that he will be in the portrait gallery when you are ready to descend.”
“The portrait gallery? Why there?”
Her mother smiled mysteriously.
“I believe he wishes for a private moment before you face the masses. Go to him, darling. Do not keep him waiting.”