Snow fell thick over London in the winter of 1847, but the true cold lived inside the house.

Diana Kerry held the letter with both hands, even though she already knew every word by heart. 3 lines. Just 3 lines to undo an engagement that had lasted 8 months.

Given the recent circumstances involving your family, I consider our engagement at an end.

Sincerely, Lord Philip Harkort.

Recent circumstances. Her father buried 6 days ago. The debts uncovered 4 days ago. The scandal splashed across the newspapers 2 days ago. And now this.

Diana let the letter slip from her fingers onto the writing desk. She did not cry. Her tears had run dry the morning 2 men in livery appeared at the door demanding immediate payment of £5,000, a sum she did not have, had never had, and that her father had concealed beneath broad smiles and lavish dinners. A respectable merchant, they had said. A man of vision, they had praised. Lies. All of it built on lies.

She rose slowly, her knees unsteady. The room was bitterly cold. The servants had been dismissed 3 days earlier. There was no money for wages, no money for firewood. There had barely been enough to bury the man who had caused all of it.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Diana turned too quickly, and the world tilted for a moment. Hunger. She had barely eaten since the funeral.

Mrs. Albright, the housekeeper who had stayed on despite not being paid, appeared in the doorway. Her usually calm face was drawn tight.

“Miss Diana, there is a gentleman here.”

Diana’s stomach clenched. Another creditor.

“Tell him I’m not receiving visitors.”

“He insisted,” the housekeeper said, her voice trembling. “It’s the Duke of Thornmere.”

The name cut through Diana like ice.

Miles Garrett, the Duke who had destroyed the Brennan family in a land dispute, who had ruined Lord Cosgrove through questionable investments, so society claimed, though nothing had ever been proven, who bought properties from desperate widows for half their worth. Treacherous as a serpent, they whispered in the drawing rooms. And now he was here, in her house.

Why would he come here?

Mrs. Albright only shook her head, eyes wide.

Diana smoothed her black dress, the same 1 she had worn for 4 days now. She had no other clean 1. She drew a steadying breath and straightened her spine. She was still a Kerry. She still had a name, even if it was in ruins, for now.

She descended the stairs at a measured pace, each step echoing through the empty house.

The drawing room was dim, curtains drawn, fireplace cold. At its center stood a tall figure, his back to her.

He turned as she entered.

Diana stopped at the threshold.

The Duke of Thornmere was younger than she had imagined, early 30s perhaps, dark hair neatly combed back, a sharp jaw, eyes that gave nothing away. He wore an immaculate black greatcoat and leather gloves, an elegance that felt almost obscene in the frozen decay of the room.

He did not smile. He did not hurry to greet her. He simply looked at her as though assessing the purchase of a horse.

Diana lifted her chin. “Your Grace.”

“Miss Kerry,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

A polite lie. He was sorry for nothing.

“What brings you here, Your Grace?”

Miles Garrett took 2 steps forward. Diana forced herself not to retreat.

“Business.” A deliberate pause. “And a proposal.”

Something twisted in her stomach.

“I have no money to settle my father’s debts.”

“I didn’t come to collect.”

His dark eyes held hers.

“I came to offer a solution.”

Silence. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Inside, the cold felt sharper still.

“What kind of solution?”

He did not blink. “Marriage.”

The word echoed through the empty room like a gunshot.

“I beg your pardon.”

“You need financial protection. I need a wife.” His voice carried no emotion. “It’s a simple transaction.”

“Transaction?”

Something burned in Diana’s chest, anger perhaps, or despair.

“A transaction?”

“Yes.”

She stepped forward, her hands trembling. “Do you believe I’m something to be bought?”

For the first time, something crossed his face. Not regret. Interest.

“I believe you are alone without money, and in 3 weeks’ time you will be turned out of this house.” He tilted his head slightly. “I’m offering you a way out.”

Diana clenched her jaw hard. “What do you gain from this?”

Miles Garrett smiled. It was not comforting.

“That, Miss Kerry,” he said softly, “we’ll discuss if you accept.”

Diana did not answer at once, not because she was considering the offer. The idea was absurd, but because her legs simply refused to obey the command to throw him out.

Miles Garrett remained perfectly still, watching her as if he had all the time in the world.

“Why me?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it.

1 eyebrow lifted. “Why not you?”

“Don’t toy with me, Your Grace.” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “You’re a duke. You could have any woman in London. Why choose someone stained by scandal?”

“Perhaps precisely because of that.”

Diana frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Miles took another step forward. This time she retreated, her back meeting the doorframe. He stopped 3 paces away. Yet it felt as though he had claimed the entire room.

“A wife from proper society would come with expectations, meddling relatives, demands of love.” He said the last word as though it were a minor inconvenience. “You have none of that. No family to interfere, no position from which to make demands, and certainly no romantic illusions about me.”

It was true, and still the cold precision with which he said it made something twist in Diana’s stomach.

“So I’m convenient.”

“Extremely.”

She should have been furious. She should have ordered him out, no matter the consequences. But Philip’s letter was still upstairs. The eviction notice would come soon, and the cold was no longer just winter. It was the emptiness of the house, the absence of firewood, the constant ache of hunger.

“And if I refuse?”

Miles gave a small shrug, almost graceful. “You’ll refuse, and then in 2 weeks, perhaps 3, you’ll lose this house. You’ll look for work as a governess or a companion, if anyone is willing to hire someone with a tarnished name.” He paused. “Or you’ll find alternatives that are less respectable.”

Diana clenched her fists. “You’re cruel.”

“I’m honest.” He inclined his head slightly. “Would you prefer polite lies? I can offer those as well if they make this easier.”

“I don’t need your lies.”

“Then accept the truth.”

Miles stepped aside, gesturing as if offering an exit that was not real.

“You need me more than I need you, and yet I’m here making an offer many would call generous.”

“Generous?”

Diana nearly laughed. There was nothing generous about it. It was pure calculation. He gained a wife without complications. She gained a roof and a name that still carried weight. A transaction.

“How long do I have to decide?”

“Until tomorrow at noon.”

Short. Brutal.

“And if I accept…” She forced herself to go on. “What are the terms?”

Something shifted in his expression. Not satisfaction, but close.

“Immediate marriage. A special license. I can arrange it.” He spoke as if listing clauses. “You’ll move to my estate in Yorkshire within a week.”

Yorkshire. Far from London. Far from everything.

“And my obligations?”

“Attend social functions when required. Manage the household.” A brief pause. “Produce an heir eventually.”

Heat rushed to Diana’s face. He said it as calmly as 1 might speak of purchasing livestock.

“Eventually?”

“I’m in no hurry.” Miles stepped back toward the door. “But I expect the agreement to be honored when the time comes.”

Agreement, not marriage. An agreement.

“And you?” Diana lifted her chin. “What are your obligations?”…