A Marriage of His Convenience
Taylor K Scott
Emily Rothschild
Life was a game, a lark, a series of adventures that came from being blessed with my father’s favour.
This ended on my twelfth birthday. Everything changed from simply turning one day older; I could no longer play about with my best friend, Edmund, without setting tongues wagging.
At eighteen, I am still just as awkward in my frills and finery. However, I have my family, while notions of marriage feel like a lifetime away. My big sister, Elsie, is still unmarried. No gentleman would choose me over my perfect sister…would they?
Tobias Hardy
Duty feels like a noose around my neck, squeezing ever tighter the older I become. I promised to continue the Hardy name for the sake of my late mother. There is but one problem, I wish to marry some insipid girl as much as I wish to converse with London’s gentry.
Nevertheless, I will find her, fulfil my duties, then live a life separate from her. She will have the title of a Duchess, in all its grandeur, while I shall remain free from the insufferable pageantry of society. After all, love is but a fairy tale that should remain inside the pages of fiction.
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“I am offering marriage,” he continues, his tone measured and cold. “I have been repeatedly reminded that I am obliged to sire an heir – an inconvenience rather than a desire, let me assure you. We shall reside on my estate in Kent, with separate rooms and separate staff. You will be instructed in the proper conduct of a duchess; Lord knows your current knowledge of society leaves much to be desired. You will be attired in the finest fabrics and presented at various assemblies throughout the year. When you reach twenty, you will be expected to bear me an heir. Aside from that, we shall lead very separate lives, Miss Emily.”
“Very well,” I whisper, twisting a bead on Elsie’s gown while forcing myself not to feel faint. Mama’s admonitions echo in my mind, yet I cannot bring myself to halt my nervous fidgeting.
“Very well?” he echoes, his voice firm, sharp as any governess I have known when chastising a pupil for ignorance. Like those long-ago lessons, all I can manage is a faint nod, my gaze fixed upon my gloved fingers.
He merely tuts before taking hold of one of my hands, and I start, caught entirely off guard. When he continues holding my hand without any care for my startled reaction, I force myself to look up into his piercing blue eyes. With his other hand, he produces a ring of exquisite design: gold, set with three emeralds across its centre.
“Do you accept my proposal, Miss Emily?”
No, never! I would rather plunge into the river than consent!
“Yes,” I murmur, though he is already sliding the ring upon my finger before the word has fully left my lips.
“Very well,” he echoes my words from before with emphasis as he rises to his feet. “I shall inform your father of your acceptance and make my way to the priest without delay. All being well, I shall see you next Friday, promptly at ten. Have your belongings prepared for departure to Kent that day. I suggest you take leave of your family before we are married; I shall not be kept waiting, Miss Emily.”
I nod, my heart heavy, and follow behind as he strides towards the door, evidently eager to depart now that his intentions have been secured.
“And Emily?” he says before finally leaving. “The young man with whom you are friends?”
I pause mid-step, looking up at him with genuine confusion, waiting for clarification before I can formulate any response.
“It is no longer deemed proper, nor acceptable, for you to maintain any further acquaintance with him. Do you understand?”
“May I bid him farewell?” I ask, no longer concerned with what is considered proper. Edmund and I have been friends since childhood; he is as close to me as a brother.
“You may write him a letter, which your father shall inspect before it is sent,” he replies, pulling on his gloves. “We are officially engaged, Miss Emily, and I shall not suffer the insult of your consorting with other gentlemen. Should you defy me, understand that there will be consequences.”
“Yes,” I whisper, the lump in my throat nearly choking me.
“Yes, what?” His eyes bore into mine with an intensity I cannot evade.
“Yes, Your Grace,” I murmur, placating him as best I can before he finally departs.
Taylor K. Scott 