Chapter 60

Arthur

The moment Cecilia disappeared through those doors, I tried to follow.

"Arthur, please!" My grandmother's grip tightened on my arm, her tears still flowing. "Please don't leave me. Not tonight. I'm begging you."

"Grandmother, I need to—"

"You need to stay." Her voice was firm now despite the tears. "You need to be here, with your family, where you belong."

I looked toward the doors, every instinct screaming at me to go after Cecilia, to fix this, to not let her face this alone.

But my grandmother's hand on my arm felt like iron, and her tears—real or manufactured, I couldn't tell anymore—kept me rooted in place.

"Arthur, darling," she said, her voice softening as she guided me back toward her chair. "Come. Sit with me. Let's talk."

I sat, my jaw clenched so tight it ached, my hands fisted on my knees.

"Your mother," Margaret continued, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, "has been in discussions with the Hartley family. About a potential alliance."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"A marriage arrangement," she said, as if she were discussing the weather. "Between you and Madison. The contracts are already being drawn up. Tonight was meant to be an opportunity for you two to get reacquainted, to see if—"

"No." The word came out flat, final. "Absolutely not."

Margaret's expression hardened. "Arthur—"

"Grandmother, did you not hear anything I said earlier?" I stood up, my voice rising. "That woman is not fit to be anyone's wife, let alone mine."

"Arthur, you're being dramatic," my mother's voice cut in. I turned to see mother approaching, her expression coolly satisfied. "Leaving aside whether what you said is true or not, even if it is, she just needs to apologize, she's willing to move forward. The alliance between our families would be—"

"Would be what?" I demanded. "Profitable? Politically advantageous? Good for the family's reputation?"

"All of those things," Irene said calmly. "And more importantly, it would be appropriate. Unlike your current... situation."

"My current situation," I said, my voice dropping to something dangerous, "is that I'm in love with Cecilia Locke. The woman you just had thrown out of this party. The woman who has more integrity and courage in her little finger than Madison Hartley has in her entire body."

Whispers rippled through the crowd, and I saw faces turning toward us, eager for the drama.

"That girl," Irene said, her voice sharp now, "seduced you when you were her guardian. She manipulated you, took advantage of your sense of responsibility—"

"She did nothing of the sort!" I shouted, and the room went silent. "I fell in love with her. I pursued her. And when I realized what was happening, when I saw how young she was and how inappropriate it seemed, I sent her away. For four years, Mother. I sent her away because I thought it was the right thing to do, because I was terrified of what people like you would say."

I took a step toward her, and she actually stepped back.

"But she came back. She came back as a woman—brilliant, accomplished, stronger than I ever gave her credit for. And I realized that I'd wasted four years being afraid of exactly this—of standing in a room full of people who think they have the right to judge us and telling them all to go to hell."

"Arthur," Margaret said, her voice taking on that pleading quality again. "Please. Think about what you're saying. Think about the scandal—"

"I don't care about the scandal!" I turned back to her. "I don't care what people say. I don't care if it embarrasses you or Mother or the entire Winston family. Cecilia is the only person who matters to me. Not Madison, not some arranged marriage, not maintaining the family's precious reputation. Her."

"But she's not worthy of you," Irene said, and there was genuine bewilderment in her voice, as if she couldn't understand why I didn't see what was so obvious to her. "She has no family, no connections, no—"

"She has me," I said simply. "And I have her. That's all that matters."

"Then you're a fool," Margaret said, and all the warmth had drained from her voice now, leaving only ice.

I pulled my arm free from her grip, finally, decisively.

"This is the last time," I said, looking between my mother and grandmother. "The absolute last time you will disrespect Cecilia. The last time you will try to manipulate me into doing what you want. The last time you will use guilt and obligation and family loyalty to control my life."

I started toward the doors, and Margaret's voice rose behind me, shrill and desperate now.

"Arthur! Arthur! It's my birthday! You would walk out on your grandmother's birthday? After everything I've done for you? After all the years I—"

"After all the years you used your love as leverage," I said, not turning around. "Would I let you call the shots? All I know is my girl has suffered grievances for you, for me. I'm done, Grandmother. I'm done with all of it."

Mother nearly lost her mind, confronting me sharply. “How dare you do this, Arthur! How dare you show disrespect to your grandmother! You’ll offend the entire Brahmore family!”

Madison tried to ease the tension, stepping forward to stop me, but I pushed her away. Tears welled up in her eyes as she begged, “Arthur, my family and I will stand behind you. All I want is you.”

I paused at the doors and looked back at they one last time.

"I'll have Cecilia," I said. "That's more than enough."

Then I pushed through the doors and into the night, leaving the gasps and whispers and my family's fury behind me.