22- The proposal II

The carriage swayed gently as the horses pulled it through the cobblestone streets, the sound of hooves echoing through the quiet streets. Duke William sat stiffly across from his son, Edward, who leaned back with an air of indifference, his gloved hands resting on the hilt of his ornate cane.

The Duke's sharp features were etched with disapproval as he broke the tense silence. "Was that necessary?" he asked, his tone controlled yet laced with frustration.

Edward turned his steely gaze toward his father, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She had it coming," he replied coolly. "Next time, it'll be her tongue."

Duke William's nostrils flared as he glared at his son. His voice rose, cutting through the muffled noise of the bustling city beyond the carriage walls. "Wouldn't that solidify the rumors that you're in love with a dead girl? Edward Calhoun Wiltshire, use your head!"

Edward let out a low scoff, his posture unchanging. "There aren't rumors, Father," he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made the Duke flinch. He leaned forward slightly, the shadows playing across his sharp jawline and sunken eyes. "I am still in love with Victoria."

The Duke Harrington tapped his feet angrily on the wooden floor , his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his face a mask of fury.

"How dare you…" he growled, his voice low and venomous, but it quickly crescendoed into a shout that filled the room.The Duke rubbed his temple, his frustration boiling over. "Victoria is dead, Edward!" he shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of grief and anger. "You better forget about that stupid love of yours and focus on your relationship with Felicia!"

Edward sat across the carriage, legs crossed casually, his eyes fixed on the passing images outside the window. The Duke's words seemed to wash over him like water against stone, leaving no mark. He sighed, a faint sound that spoke volumes, yet still, he said nothing.

"Did you hear me, Edward?" the Duke bellowed, his voice echoing in the small chamber.

Edward tilted his head slightly, finally lifting his gaze to meet his father's, his expression unreadable. Then he made a sharp tsk with his tongue, the sound more dismissive than any word he could have spoken.

"Yelling won't change anything," Edward replied evenly, his tone as cool as winter frost. "I heard you the first time."

The Duke stopped tapping his feet, his glare burning with barely contained rage. For a moment, it looked as though he might erupt again, but he caught himself. Yelling had never worked with Edward; the boy had always been unflappable, frustratingly so. Instead, the Duke inhaled deeply, drawing in a measure of calm.

"You cannot live in a dream, Edward," he said, his tone more measured now but still heavy with exasperation. "Victoria is gone. Nothing will bring her back, and your continued defiance will do nothing but ruin this family's future. Felicia is a kind girl, a smart girl—she will make you a fine wife if you give her the chance."

Edward arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching upward in the faintest semblance of a sardonic smile. "And you truly believe that marrying Felicia will suddenly erase everything? That her presence will somehow… replace Victoria's?" He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in the sound. "You know nothing of love, Father."

The Duke bristled but did not rise to the bait. "I know what duty is," he said sharply. "And so do you. Whether you loved Victoria or not, your obligation now is to the family. The Wiltshire name is at stake, and Felicia's father is one of the most powerful allies we could have. This is bigger than you, Edward. It always has been."

"Duty," Edward repeated, his voice laced with bitterness as he stood, slowly closing the space between them. The firelight caught the edge of his sharp jawline and the dark glint in his eyes. "You speak of duty as though it excuses everything. As though it can erase my grief. You'd sell me off like livestock if it meant advancing your precious legacy."

The Duke flinched at the words but said nothing. The carriage fell into an uneasy silence, the only sound the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the silence between father and son. Edward leaned back against the plush upholstery with one leg crossed over the other. He stared out the small window, the dim light of dusk casting fleeting shadows across his face.

"I will be heading to the Undercity later this evening," Edward said, breaking the stillness. His tone calm but deliberate.

The Duke sighed deeply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his cane, "Be careful," he said after a moment, his voice filled with restrained concern. "And for heaven's sake, take security with you."

Edward turned away from the window, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "I plan on going alone," he replied, the nonchalance in his voice almost daring his father to argue.

The Duke straightened in his seat, his expression hardening. "No, you will not," he said firmly. "The Undercity is dangerous, Edward. The people, the crime, the squalor—it's no place for someone of your standing."

Edward met his father's glare, his tone dropping to a sharper edge. "Nothing you say will change my mind."

The Duke's lips pressed into a thin line as he struggled to contain his frustration. "Why must you always be so reckless? This obsession with revenge —it's beneath you. "

"You're not invincible," he continued,his voice sharper now. "One wrong step down there, Edward, and no amount of wealth, title, reputation or even the council will save you."

Edward's smirk faded, replaced by a glint of defiance in his eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Father," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "But I am not a child. I know what I'm walking into, and I'll handle myself accordingly."

The Duke shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface again. "At least take a weapon," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. "You're a fool if you think you'll make it out unscathed without one."

Edward inclined his head slightly, the faintest gesture of acknowledgment. "I'll consider it," he said, though his tone made it clear the decision had already been made.

The Duke exhaled sharply, leaning back against the carriage seat with a weary expression. He studied his son, searching for any crack in Edward's resolve, but found none.

As the carriage rumbled onward through the streets, the Duke spoke again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Whatever revenge you are planning, Edward… make sure it's worth the cost."

"It is," Edward replied at last, his voice quiet but resolute.

The carriage slowed to a halt in front of a grand estate, its gates adorned with wrought iron vines and crests. The Duke turned to Edward, his stern features shadowed by the dim interior light. "Do not ruin this engagement," he warned, his voice firm. "Make sure Felicia is pleased with you, and if possible, propose to her."

Edward leaned back in his seat,his face a mask of cold indifference. His silence was answer enough, gazing out the window instead, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the armrest.

Edward," the Duke pressed, his tone harder now. "Did you hear me? This alliance is vital. The Havering family's influence—"

"I heard you," Edward interrupted, turning his gaze from the window to his father. "Loud and clear. Shall I get on one knee before dinner or after dessert?"

The Duke scowled. "Do not mock me. This is about securing the future of this family. Felicia is an excellent match—beautiful, intelligent, well-bred—"

"And utterly enamored with a man who doesn't reciprocate," Edward finished curtly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air.

The Duke's glare intensified, but before he could respond, the carriage came to a halt before the Havering estate. Edward straightened his coat as the footman opened the door. "Shall we, Father?" he asked coolly before stepping out.

The Duke followed, biting back his anger as they approached the grand entrance.

The dining room was a display of luxury, its polished mahogany table adorned with silver candelabras and fine crystal. Felicia's parents, the Viscount and Viscountess Havering, greeted the Duke with practiced cordiality while Felicia herself entered gracefully, her pale blue gown catching the soft light. She curtsied slightly, her wide, eager smile directed at Edward.

"Edward," Felicia said with a radiant smile, "its a pleasure to finally meet you, you must tell us about your recent travels. Father says you've been to the Southern Isles. They sound so exotic!"

Edward glanced at her, his tone detached. "The Isles are beautiful," he said. "The weather is pleasant year-round, though the politics there are… less so."

"How thrilling!" Felicia exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "I do hope you'll tell me all about it sometime."

"Perhaps," Edward replied, his attention already drifting elsewhere.

His father's watchful glare reminded him of his purpose here, but Edward could not bring himself to feign enthusiasm.

After dinner, Felicia, glowing with excitement, turned to Edward. "Shall we take a stroll through the garden? It's especially lovely this time of year."

Edward glanced at the Duke, who offered him a warning look. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded and extended his arm. "Lead the way," he said.

The garden was a quiet reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of expectations inside. The Sun cast a glow over the trimmed hedges and blooming roses, and the sound of a small fountain filled the still hot air.

Felicia held Edward's arm as they strolled along the winding path. She looked up at him frequently, her delicate features lit by a smile that was as eager as it was genuine. "It's been such a lovely day, hasn't it?" she asked, her voice soft yet bright.

"Indeed," Edward replied curtly, his gaze fixed ahead.

Felicia hesitated, her grip on his arm tightening slightly. "You hardly seem to be enjoying yourself," she said, her tone laced with a teasing pout. "You're so... composed, Edward. I admire that about you, but it does make me wonder what's on your mind."

Edward stopped walking and glanced down at her, his eyes betraying none of the turmoil he kept buried. "I assure you, my thoughts are of no consequence, Miss Havering," he said evenly, carefully sidestepping the invitation to share more.

She giggled, apparently unfazed by his distant demeanor. "I suppose that's part of your charm," she said, releasing his arm to step closer to a bed of roses. "You're such a mystery. All the girls at court are envious, you know. They call you the Duke's elusive son—brooding, handsome, and completely unattainable."

Edward arched a brow and his lips twitched slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or irritation "Do they?."

"Oh, yes!" she said, her laughter light. "It's quite unfair, really. None of them know you like I do."

Edward turned his gaze to the fountain ahead, the soft splash of water breaking the stillness of the afternoon. "Perhaps no one knows me as well as they think," he murmured.

Felicia approached, clasping her hands in front of her as she regarded him with open adoration. "Do you know what I admire most about you, Edward?"

"I imagine you're about to tell me," he said dryly, his eyes never leaving the water.

She laughed softly, unfazed by his lack of warmth. "Your strength," she said earnestly. "The way you carry yourself, as though the world could crumble around you and you'd still stand tall. It's inspiring."

Edward finally turned to look at her, his expression impassive. He recognized the sincerity in her words, but it only deepened the weight pressing on his chest. Felicia was kind, gentle, and entirely undeserving of the indifference he offered her. But try as he might, he could not force his heart to move where duty commanded it.

"Your kind words are noted," Edward said softly, his voice carrying a faint edge of finality.

Felicia tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly. She seemed about to say more but thought better of it. Instead, she offered him a wistful smile. "You're a difficult man to understand, Edward. But I suppose that only makes you more intriguing."

He straightened, gesturing toward the path back to the house. "Shall we return?", his tone making it clear the conversation was over.

Felicia blinked, her disappointment subtle but apparent. "Of course," she said, but she forced a smile, looping her arm through his once more.

As they walked back toward the house, Felicia held his arm once again, chattering about flowers and court gossip. Edward gave the occasional polite nod, his thoughts far removed from the present moment.

As they walked back toward the grand estate, the Duke watched from the drawing-room window, a frown settling on his face. He could see Edward's rigid posture, his carefully measured steps, and the fleeting sadness on Felicia's face. It was clear to him, now more than ever, that while Edward could go through the motions, his heart would remain unyielding. And that would be a problem no alliance could solve.