Chapter 87: Father

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Father

Marian spent the entire morning trying to tell her father.

Unfortunately, telling her father required actually speaking to him.

A detail she had not adequately considered.

At breakfast, she decided she would do it after breakfast.

After breakfast, she decided she would do it after lunch.

After lunch, she decided she would do it after tea.

By mid-afternoon, she was beginning to suspect she lacked the qualifications necessary for adulthood.

"My Lady."

Marian looked up.

Her maid was staring at her.

Specifically, staring at the book currently resting in Marian’s hands.

A book Marian had been pretending to read for approximately forty minutes.

"There is a problem, isn’t there?"

Marian glanced down.

The book was upside down.

She closed it immediately.

"I can explain."

"You haven’t turned a page."

"..."

"And the book is upside down."

"..."

Marian sighed.

Her maid sighed back.

Years of service had apparently created a relationship in which words were no longer necessary.

A deeply unfortunate development.

"My lady."

The maid’s voice softened.

"Is everything alright?"

No.

Absolutely not.

Nothing was alright.

Her engagement was collapsing.

The Crown Prince refused to accept it.

She was in love with Duke Cassian Ashford.

And she needed to tell her father before she spontaneously combusted from stress.

"Everything is fine."

The lie was so terrible that even Marian was offended by it.

Her maid looked unconvinced.

Reasonably.

Before either of them could continue, a knock sounded at the door.

A servant entered.

"My lady."

Marian straightened immediately.

"His Grace is available if you wished to speak with him."

Silence.

The room suddenly felt very small.

Her maid looked at her.

The servant looked at her.

Marian looked at the nearest window and briefly considered escape.

Unfortunately, the window was on the second floor.

A poor strategy.

"Lady Marian?"

The servant sounded concerned.

Marian stood.

Immediately sat back down.

Then stood again.

"Excellent."

Her voice cracked slightly.

A betrayal.

"Please inform Father that I’ll be there shortly."

The servant bowed and departed.

The door closed.

Silence returned.

Her maid stared.

Marian stared back.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then—

"You’ve faced charging boars with less fear than this."

Marian pointed accusingly.

"That was different."

"How?"

"The boars wanted to kill me."

Her maid blinked.

"...and His Grace does not?"

Marian groaned.

The Duke of Valmort’s study had always intimidated her.

Not because of her father.

The room itself.

The shelves.

The ledgers.

The endless stacks of documents.

It looked less like a study and more like a battlefield made entirely of paperwork.

A terrifying concept.

The servant opened the door.

"His Grace will see you now."

Too late to flee.

Marian entered.

Her father sat behind his desk.

Reading.

As always.

The Duke looked up when she entered.

Immediately setting the documents aside.

Because whatever else could be said about Duke Valmort—

His daughter always came first.

"Marian."

His expression softened.

"Sit."

The familiar affection almost made this harder.

Marian obeyed.

Her father studied her quietly.

Then one eyebrow lifted.

"Something is wrong."

Marian stared.

"You asked that quickly."

"I raised you."

A fair point.

An annoying point.

But fair.

The Duke leaned back in his chair.

Waiting.

Patient.

Confident.

Entirely unaware that Marian was about to throw a metaphorical grenade into his afternoon.

The realization did nothing to calm her.

"Father..."

The word came out smaller than intended.

The Duke’s expression sharpened.

Immediately.

Because Marian rarely sounded uncertain around him.

"Yes?"

Marian took a breath.

Then another.

Then a third.

At this point she was simply collecting them.

"Father, I would like to discuss my engagement."

Silence.

The Duke’s expression did not change.

Yet something in the room shifted.

Subtly.

Dangerously.

Because after eighteen years, that was not a normal sentence.

Not from Marian.

Not ever.

Slowly, Duke Valmort folded his hands atop the desk.

And gave her his full attention.

"Go on."

Marian suddenly wished she were back in the forest.

At least wolves were honest.

For several moments she stared at her hands.

Trying to decide how to begin.

There was no good way.

No easy way.

No version of this conversation where everyone left happy.

So eventually she settled for honesty.

"Father... I don’t think I can marry Adrian."

Silence.

Not shocked silence.

Not yet.

The Duke simply looked at her.

Waiting.

As though he expected more.

As though he was giving her the chance to reconsider her words.

Marian didn’t.

The Duke exhaled slowly.

Then:

"Did something happen?"

The question surprised her.

Because there was no accusation in it.

Only concern.

"Yes."

The answer came quietly.

Her father’s gaze sharpened.

"Does this have something to do with Lady Elena?"

There it was.

Of course there it was.

Marian almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because apparently everyone in the Empire had reached the same conclusion.

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Firmly.

The Duke blinked.

For the first time, genuine confusion appeared.

"No?"

"No."

A pause.

Then another.

Because clearly that had not been the answer he expected.

Marian almost felt guilty.

Almost.

"What exactly are you telling me?"

There was no avoiding it anymore.

She had come too far.

"I would like to end the engagement."

The words settled heavily between them.

The Duke said nothing.

For a very long time.

Marian waited.

The silence stretched.

Then stretched further.

Finally—

"Does the Crown Prince know?"

Of course that was his first question.

Not why.

Not what happened.

Not are you certain.

Does the Crown Prince know?

A nobleman’s question.

A duke’s question.

A father’s question.

Because the answer changed everything.

"Yes."

The Duke visibly relaxed.

Only slightly.

Only for a moment.

Then:

"And?"

Marian swallowed.

"He doesn’t agree."

Silence.

This time it was different.

Because now Duke Valmort understood the shape of the problem.

Not all of it.

But enough.

Slowly, very slowly, he leaned back in his chair.

The movement was controlled.

Measured.

Yet Marian knew him well enough to recognize the warning signs.

Her father was thinking.

Which was usually dangerous for everyone involved.

"He doesn’t agree."

The Duke repeated the words carefully.

As though examining them.

Testing them.

"Those were his exact words."

Marian nodded.

The Duke looked away.

Toward the window.

Toward the gardens beyond.

Toward nothing in particular.

For several moments he remained silent.

Then:

"I see."

Which was unfortunate.

Because Marian was reasonably certain he did not, in fact, see.

Not yet.

He knew the Crown Prince disagreed.

He knew his daughter wanted to end the engagement.

But he didn’t know why.

And Marian wasn’t sure she was ready to explain that part yet.

The Duke’s fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair.

A habit he only had when something genuinely concerned him.

Then he looked back at her.

His expression unreadable.

"Marian."

Her stomach dropped.

Because that was his serious voice.

"Yes, Father?"

The Duke studied her for a long moment.

Then asked quietly:

"Are you absolutely certain?"

The question hurt more than she expected.

Because beneath it sat trust.

Concern.

Love.

Everything a father could not say directly.

Marian lowered her gaze.

Thought of Adrian.

Thought of the forest.

Thought of Cassian.

Thought of moonlight.

Of certainty.

Of a hand reaching for hers.

Of a future she wanted.

Then she looked back up.

And answered honestly.

"Yes."

The Duke closed his eyes briefly.

Just briefly.

When he opened them again, the conversation was over.

At least for today.

"I understand."

Marian wasn’t entirely convinced he did.

But she appreciated the effort.

The Duke stood.

Signaling the end of the meeting.

Marian rose as well.

Still nervous.

Still uncertain.

Yet somehow lighter than before.

She had done it.

At least one impossible conversation was behind her now.

As she reached the door, her father’s voice stopped her.

"Marian."

She turned.

The Duke looked older suddenly.

Not much.

Just enough for her to notice.

"We’ll discuss this again soon."

Marian nodded.

"Yes, Father."

Then she left.

The study door closed behind her.

And for several moments Duke Valmort remained alone.

Silent.

Thoughtful.

The room felt strangely quiet.

Then a knock sounded.

The Duke frowned.

"Enter."

A servant stepped inside and bowed.

"Your Grace."

"Yes?"

The servant hesitated.

Only briefly.

"Duke Ashford has requested an audience."

Silence.

The Duke stared.

Once.

Then twice.

Because that was unexpected.

Not alarming.

Not suspicious.

Simply unexpected.

"Duke Ashford?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

The Duke looked toward the closed door through which Marian had just departed.

Then back toward the servant.

Slowly, thoughtfully.

A strange feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

Not understanding.

Not yet.

Only the faint sense that the day had become considerably more complicated.

"Very well."

The Duke straightened.

"Show him in tomorrow."