She Was Sold to an Old Duke — But His Wedding Night Gift Changed Everything
Chapter 15
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Josephine watched the last ember of the letter die. The knot in her stomach slowly uncoiled. She looked at the old man beside her: he was frail, broken, and living on borrowed time, but he had taught her how to stand."Thank you," she whispered.Summer arrived in Yorkshire, not with a shout, but a quiet exhale. The moors turned a deep, bruised purple with blooming heather. For three months, the Clydesdale estate experienced a strange, suspended peace.Thomas was stable, but he was permanently altered: the fever had stripped the last reserves of his vitality; he no longer went to the estate office; the ledgers were brought to him in the library where he sat wrapped in thick wool, content to simply watch Josephine work.She was a revelation: she negotiated contracts with the railway barons that left them sweating; she dismissed lazy overseers and promoted hungry, intelligent men from the pits. The estate's profits swelled, but more importantly, the machinery of the house ran on her absolute authority. She was no longer a barricade; she was the architect.It was late October when the cold returned, creeping under the heavy oak doors and seeping into the stone floors. They were in the library after dinner: Josephine was reading a report on the new steam pumps, a glass of dark wine at her elbow; Thomas was staring into the fire, a heavy quilt over his knees."I want you to burn the annulment papers," Thomas said suddenly.Josephine stopped reading. She lowered the paper, staring at him across the space between their chairs. The firelight caught the deep hollows of his cheeks; he looked incredibly tired."Why?" she asked quietly."Because you no longer need them," he replied, turning his pale eyes toward her. "When I drew them up, I wanted to give you an escape. I thought you might want to return to society, to marry again—a young man, someone who could give you children, a proper life. But if you file an annulment, you forfeit the title. You go back to being Josephine Harding."He leaned forward slightly, resting his gnarled hands on the head of his cane."You are not Josephine Harding anymore. This estate, these people, the power you hold here—it belongs to you. If you become a widow, you keep the name. You keep the title. You keep the proxy over my personal assets until the day you die. You will be entirely untouchable."Josephine felt a cold spike of dread in her chest. She set the report down carefully. "You are speaking as if you are leaving tomorrow.""I am an old man, Josie," he said softly. "The winter is coming. I do not think I will see the spring.""Dr. Evans says your lungs are clear," she argued, though her voice shook slightly. She hated the weakness in it; she hated that she cared."Evans is a fool who wants to keep his position," Thomas said dryly. He offered her a faint, sad smile. "Do not fight it, Josephine. We made a bargain. We both got exactly what we paid for: I died in a quiet house, protected from the vultures; you became a queen."