Page 55 of No Place in Time

“You need say nothing yet,” Julian said, his tone gentle. “I know this is sudden. But I wanted you to hear it from me, and from your uncle, so you would know my intentions are sincere.”

Her uncle nodded eagerly. “The betrothal could be announced at Pentecost. That gives you time to prepare, to become accustomed to the idea.”

Pentecost. Only a month away.

Julian smiled at her. “You need not answer today. Perhaps you might give me your response by Easter? That would allow time for the banns to be read before Pentecost.”

He was being generous. Giving her time to “consider.”

But there was nothing to consider. Her uncle had obviously already agreed. Julian had already decided. She could see it in the way they stood, the way they spoke to her, not asking, but informing. She was a woman, after all. Her will, her desires, didn’t matter.

“Thank you, my lord,” she heard herself say. “You honor me.” The words tasted like cinders in her mouth. “But this is very sudden. I had not thought… I am not prepared for…”

“You’ll have until Easter to prepare yourself, child,” Stephen said. “That’s more than reasonable.”

Cecily’s hands were trembling as she continued to implore her uncle. “But I know so little of married life, of managing an estate of that size—”

“You’ve proven yourself here,” her uncle said.

“And you’ll have Isabel to guide you,” added Julian.

Her uncle’s face was alight with a pleasure she could not bear to witness. Julian watched her with the quiet satisfaction of a man who has just acquired a fine new possession.

“Go along now, child,” her uncle said, his voice gentle but final. He had already turned back to Julian. She was dismissed.

Cecily rose, her limbs stiff. She managed a curtsey and left the solar, her own home suddenly feeling like a trap. She made it to the garden before the full weight of it hit her. She sank onto a stone bench hidden behind the herbs, where no one would see her, and pressed both hands to her mouth.

This cannot be happening.

But it was. It was happening exactly the way it had before, with Lord Alard. A marriage arranged without her consent. Her uncle, smiling and calling it an honor. And she was expected to be grateful, to accept what they had decided for her.

She had fled across time to escape this. She had risked everything, stepped into a machine she didn’t understand, left behind everyone and everything she’d ever known. And for what? To end up right back where she’d started? And with a man of the same family, Veyron, claiming her hand in marriage? A drunkard. A spendthrift.

No, this was worse than before.

At least with Lord Alard, she’d had family. She let herself wonder if her parents might have protected her, if they could have prevented the marriage if she had only trusted them. But that was a child’s fantasy. She wasn’t there anymore. She was here. And here, she had nothing.

And Julian wasn’t like Alard. Julian was young, handsome, well-spoken. People would expect her to be pleased. They would call her foolish if she refused.

But she’d watched what he’d done to Isabel. She’d seen the way he forced his sister into marriage with Benedict, ignoring Isabel’s tears and protests because it suited his purposes. She’d witnessed his intoxicated behavior. His reckless spending. She knew what this family was capable of.

She recalled her uncle’s hopeful face. A dowry. That was the only explanation. Her uncle had offered one, and Julian, his fortune spent, needed it.

The garden blurred as tears formed. Cecily blinked hard and pressed her palms against her eyes.

“Cecily?”

She looked up. Isabel stood a few paces away, her expression cautious and sad.

“I came with Julian,” Isabel said in a low voice. “He told you?”

Cecily nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Isabel sat beside her on the bench, folding her hands in her lap. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“I heard Julian mention it to Benedict this morning,” Isabel said.

“So, you knew?” Cecily said. “You knew he intended to ask for my hand?”