CHAPTER 104: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FOUR

The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the polished floors of the Hamilton estate. The house was quiet again. The storm of emotion, the confessions of love, and the heated kisses in the library had settled into a warm, humming silence.

Carcel was gone.

He had left only ten minutes ago, riding back to his own manor to prepare for the wedding. He had kissed Ines’s hand at the door, his eyes promising a thousand tomorrows.

Ines stood in the foyer, watching the heavy oak door where he had exited. She touched her lips. They still felt warm. She felt light, as if she were floating a few inches off the ground. She was going to be a Duchess. She was going to be his wife.

"My Lady?"

It was Edith. Her voice was low and cautious.

Ines turned, a dreamy smile still playing on her lips. "Yes, Edith?"

"His Grace," Edith said, gesturing toward the drawing room. "Your brother wishes to see you. Now."

Ines’s smile faltered just a little. The bubble of romantic bliss popped.

"Now?" she asked.

"Yes, My Lady. He said it is urgent."

Ines sighed. Rowan. Of course. The reality of her situation came rushing back. The scandal. The fight.

"Very well," Ines said, smoothing the skirts of her blue dress. "I am coming."

She walked to the drawing room. The door was open. Rowan was standing by the fireplace, his back to the room. He was staring into the cold grate, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He looked stiff. He looked like a statue of responsibility.

"Brother?" Ines called softly.

Rowan turned. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his usually neat hair was a little mussed, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration.

"Sit down, Ines," he said. His voice was not angry, but it was heavy.

Ines walked to the armchair nearest to him and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap, trying to look like the demure, obedient sister he wanted her to be.

Rowan didn’t sit. He paced a few steps to the left, then back to the right.

"The wedding," he began, staring at a painting on the wall, "is in about two months. We have settled the date with the Bishop."

Ines nodded. "Yes. Two months."

It felt like a long time, but also no time at all. There were dresses to be made, invitations to be sent, menus to be planned. It was a whirlwind. Ines spoke, her voice a bit worried. "But isn’t... it soon."

"It is necessary," Rowan said shortly. "Given the... circumstances."

He stopped pacing and looked at her.

"Then," he continued, his voice taking on a harder edge, "for the next two months... for the duration of the engagement... I want you to try not to meet Carcel. As much as possible."

Ines blinked. Her mind felt suddenly confused, as if he had started speaking a foreign language she hadn’t studied.

Huh? she thought.

"Not... meet him?" she asked aloud. "But... we are engaged. We are to be married. It is already official. Everyone knows."

"I know that," Rowan said. "But until the wedding day, you are to keep your distance."

Ines felt a flare of rebellion. She had just found him. She had just realized he loved her. She wanted to see him every day. She wanted to ask him a hundred more questions for her novel. She wanted to be with him.

"Why are you saying that?" she asked, her voice rising slightly. "I don’t want to."

Rowan frowned. He looked tired. He looked like a man who had spent the last week managing a crisis and was now trying to prevent another one.

"If you must meet," He conceded, crossing his arms over his chest, "For wedding preparations, or official dinners... do it where I can see you. In this room. With the door open. With tea. And for no more than an hour."

Ines shook her head. "No. I don’t want to do that. That is ridiculous, Rowan. He is your best friend."

Rowan’s jaw tightened. He stood up straight, looming over her slightly. He was losing his patience.

"It is not up to you, Ines," he said firmly. "I am still your guardian. I am the head of this house. Until you say your vows, Until you say ’I do’ at the altar, you are my responsibility."

He turned as if to leave, assuming the conversation was over. Assuming he had given an order and she would follow it.

"Anyway," he threw over his shoulder, "once you get married, you will live with Carcel for the rest of your life. Every single day. Whether you like it or not. So you can deal with not seeing him for two months, right? It is a small sacrifice."

Ines stared at his back.

A small sacrifice? she thought furiously. Two months? Sixty days? Without seeing him? Without holding him?

That’s just something you made up, she thought. You are just being difficult. You are punishing us.

She stood up. The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor.

"Even if you are my guardian," she stated, her voice trembling but loud, "you can’t just do whatever you want! I am an adult. The marriage has already been decided, so..."

SLAM!

Rowan didn’t turn around. He slammed his palm down onto the small side table near the door.

The sound was like a gunshot. The vase of flowers on the table rattled dangerously.

"INES!"

Ines jumped. She fell back into her chair, her heart hammering against her ribs. She stared at her brother. She had rarely seen him lose his temper like this. Not with her.

Rowan turned around slowly. His face was red. He wasn’t just annoyed. He was stressed. He looked like a man who was holding up the roof of the house with his bare hands.

He didn’t move. He kept his hand on the table, leaning his weight on it. He was breathing hard. He looked at her, and his expression softened, just a fraction, from anger to a deep, desperate concern.

"You do not understand," he said, his voice low and shaking. "You think this is a game? You think this is one of your romance novels?"

Ines swallowed hard. She didn’t answer.

"There are bad rumors," Rowan said. "About you."

Ines froze. "Rumors?"

She thought of her books. Did they know about Arthur Pendleton? Did they know about her secret career?

Rowan nodded grimly. "Yes. Rumors. Whispers. In the clubs. In the drawing rooms."

He took a deep breath.

"That you and Carcel..." he paused, looking for a polite way to say it. "That you have had... such relations. Before you two got engaged."

Ines let out a small sigh of relief.

Oh that rumor?

Rowan turned fully to face her. He looked her in the eye, making sure she understood the gravity of the situation.

She thought of the ball. She thought of Carcel pulling her onto the dance floor. She thought of the way they had looked at each other.

Lady Kensington, she thought. She saw us going to the library. She told everyone.

And then, a deeper, colder realization hit her.

It’s not just a rumor, she thought to herself, her stomach twisting into a knot. It’s the truth.

It wasn’t idle gossip. It was a factual account of her actions. She had had relations with him. She had been in his room. She had been in the library. She had done things that would make a seasoned matron blush.

Rowan watched her face pale. He thought she was shocked by the lie. He didn’t know she was shocked by the accuracy.

He pointed a finger at her. It wasn’t an accusing finger; it was a warning one.

"Do you understand now?" he asked. "If you are seen with him... alone... anywhere... it confirms it. It proves the gossips right. It makes you look... loose. It makes the Hamilton name a joke."

He leaned in closer.

"So you must not meet each other alone," he commanded. "In order to curb the rumors. We must be perfect. We must be distant. We must show the world that this is a proper, respectful, traditional engagement. Understood?"

Ines looked at her brother. She saw the worry in his eyes. He was trying to protect her. He was trying to save her from the consequences of her own recklessness.

She thought of Carcel. She thought of his promise to protect her. If she insisted on seeing him, she would only be hurting him. She would be confirming the scandal.

She slumped in her chair. The fight went out of her.

She looked down at her hands.

"Yes, brother," she replied grudgingly. "I understand."

Rowan let out a long breath. His shoulders sagged. "Good."

He walked over to her. He placed a hand on her head, a gentle, brotherly pat.

"It is only two months, Ines," he said softly. "Read your books.

Prepare your trousseau. The time will pass."

He turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Ines sat alone in the large, silent drawing room.