Updated Apr 18, 2026 • ~12 min read
Chapter 19: Cordelia’s Gambit
Emmeline
Emmy wakes three days after her emotional breakthrough with the Duke to an urgent message from Lady Margaret requesting they come to her London townhouse immediately for a matter of grave importance, and Emmy’s first thought is that someone has died because what else would warrant grave importance and urgent summons at eight o’clock in the morning.
She dresses quickly and finds the Duke already in the breakfast room looking equally concerned about his sister’s summons, and they travel to Lady Margaret’s house in tense silence while both of them speculate about what could possibly be wrong.
Lady Margaret meets them at the door herself instead of having servants show them in—a breach of protocol that makes Emmy’s anxiety spike even higher—and when the Duke’s sister ushers them into her private sitting room Emmy sees genuine distress in the other woman’s expression.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Lady Margaret says, settling into a chair with visible agitation. “I received some disturbing news this morning and thought you should hear it from me before the gossip reaches you through less friendly sources.”
“What news?” the Duke asks, his voice gone cold with that careful control he uses when he’s worried.
“Lady Cordelia has filed a petition with the ecclesiastical courts,” Lady Margaret says bluntly. “Seeking annulment of your marriage to Emmy on grounds of non-consummation and fraud.”
Emmy’s stomach drops at those words, and she watches the Duke go completely still in the way that suggests he’s processing something devastating while trying to maintain composure.
“She’s what?” the Duke asks, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Filed for annulment,” Lady Margaret repeats. “She’s claiming that your marriage was never consummated, that you and Emmy maintain separate chambers, that the entire arrangement is a sham designed purely to produce an heir without requiring actual marital intimacy. And she’s apparently gathered evidence—testimony from servants, documentation of your separate living arrangements, witnesses who can attest that you and Emmy don’t behave like a genuinely married couple in private.”
“How does she have access to testimony from our servants?” Emmy asks with growing horror. “How does she know details about our private living arrangements?”
“She’s been bribing your staff,” Lady Margaret says with clear disgust. “Paying maids and footmen for information about your marriage. Building a case that your union is invalid based on lack of consummation and questionable intent.”
The Duke’s hands clench into fists at his sides, and Emmy sees actual rage flash across his usually controlled expression.
“That’s—she can’t do that,” the Duke argues. “Marriage validity doesn’t require consummation. The ceremony was legal, properly witnessed, registered with appropriate authorities. Whether we’ve consummated or not is irrelevant.”
“Technically you’re correct,” Lady Margaret agrees. “But Sebastian, an unconsummated marriage is significantly easier to annul than a consummated one. Especially when combined with claims of fraud—that you married Emmy under false pretenses, that the arrangement was always meant to be purely transactional without actual marital intimacy, that you have no intention of fulfilling your obligations as a husband.”
“This is revenge,” Emmy says, understanding clicking into place. “She’s doing this because we convinced London society our marriage is real. Because she lost her power to humiliate your brother through gossip. So now she’s trying legal action instead.”
“Exactly,” Lady Margaret confirms. “She’s vindictive and she has resources and she’s apparently decided that if she can’t have Sebastian then no one should. Filing for annulment is her way of trying to destroy your marriage legally since she couldn’t destroy it socially.”
“Can she succeed?” Emmy asks, because that’s the question that matters—whether Cordelia actually has legal standing to annul a marriage she’s not party to.
“Possibly,” Lady Margaret says, and Emmy sees the Duke flinch at that admission. “If she can prove the marriage wasn’t consummated and was entered with fraudulent intent—that Sebastian married you purely to spite Cordelia or to acquire a convenient heir without actual marital obligations—then the ecclesiastical courts might grant annulment. It’s not common for a third party to petition, but it’s not impossible either. Especially when that third party has Cordelia’s wealth and connections.”
The Duke stands abruptly and paces to the window—that familiar gesture he uses when emotions become overwhelming—and Emmy watches his shoulders tense with fury and fear in equal measure.
“I won’t let her destroy this,” the Duke says, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. “I won’t let her annul my marriage just because she’s bored and vindictive and wants to prove she still has power over me.”
“Then you need to provide evidence that the marriage is genuine,” Lady Margaret says pragmatically. “Evidence that you and Emmy have a real partnership, that the arrangement wasn’t fraudulent, that you’re actually functioning as husband and wife instead of just legal strangers sharing a name.”
“How do we prove that?” Emmy asks. “When half of what Cordelia is saying is true. We do maintain separate chambers. We haven’t consummated our marriage. And until recently we barely spoke beyond polite formalities. How do we prove our marriage is genuine when it’s barely existed for most of the past four months?”
“You prove intent,” Lady Margaret suggests. “You demonstrate that even if the marriage started as convenience, it’s become something real. That you care about each other, are building actual partnership, intend to fulfill all marital obligations including producing an heir. The courts aren’t looking for love necessarily—they’re looking for genuine intent to be married instead of just performing legality.”
“But we need to consummate the marriage,” Emmy says, looking at the Duke who’s still standing rigid at the window. “Don’t we? To eliminate the easiest grounds for annulment?”
The Duke doesn’t respond, and Emmy sees the exact moment he shuts down completely—shoulders going even more tense, hands clenching harder, his entire body radiating rejection of what Emmy is suggesting.
“Sebastian?” Emmy prompts when he doesn’t answer. “We need to consummate our marriage or the courts can annul it. You understand that, right?”
“I understand,” the Duke says, his voice flat and emotionless in ways Emmy hasn’t heard since the early days of their marriage. “But I can’t—not like this. Not because we have to. Not because Cordelia is forcing our hand through legal manipulation.”
“Then when?” Emmy asks with frustration. “When will you be ready? Because we don’t have infinite time to wait for you to overcome your fear. We have an annulment petition to fight and consummation is literally the easiest way to eliminate Cordelia’s strongest argument.”
“I need more time,” the Duke says, and he sounds defeated. “I can’t just—I can’t perform intimacy on command because a court requires it. That’s not how this works.”
“Then how does it work?” Emmy challenges, standing because having this argument while sitting feels impossible. “Tell me, Sebastian. Tell me what magical circumstances need to align before you’re willing to actually be my husband instead of just my legal spouse.”
The Duke turns from the window with an expression that’s harder than Emmy has seen in days—all the progress they made after she visited the west wing apparently evaporating under the pressure of Cordelia’s legal assault.
“It needs to be right,” the Duke says flatly. “It needs to be real. Not just checking a box so courts will validate our marriage. Not performing intimacy because Cordelia is forcing our hand. Actually wanting each other, actually being ready, actually building toward something genuine instead of just desperately trying to prevent annulment.”
“We don’t have time for perfect circumstances!” Emmy argues. “We have an annulment petition that could destroy our marriage if we don’t provide evidence that it’s genuine. And the easiest evidence is consummation. So maybe you need to push through your fear and actually do the thing you’ve been avoiding for four months before it’s too late.”
“I can’t,” the Duke repeats, and Emmy sees something almost panicked in his expression. “Emmy, I can’t just decide to overcome five years of trauma because a court deadline requires it. I need time. I need the situation to feel safe instead of desperate. I need—I need what I can’t have, apparently.”
Emmy feels her anger deflate at the genuine distress in his voice, and she understands suddenly that pushing him to consummate their marriage before he’s ready will just damage whatever fragile trust they’ve built.
“Fine,” Emmy says, sitting back down with exhaustion. “We fight the annulment on other grounds. Prove intent instead of consummation. Show the courts we’re building something real even if it’s not yet complete.”
“Our solicitor will need details,” Lady Margaret points out. “Evidence of your relationship. Witnesses who can testify that your marriage is genuine despite the separate chambers and delayed consummation. Documentation of your growing partnership.”
“We’ll provide it,” the Duke says, returning to his seat with visible effort at composure. “We’ll give them whatever evidence they need. But I won’t be forced into intimacy just to satisfy legal requirements. That’s not how I want our marriage to become real.”
Lady Margaret looks between Emmy and the Duke with clear concern, and Emmy sees the other woman understanding exactly how precarious their situation is—fighting an annulment petition while the marriage itself is barely functional, trying to prove genuine partnership when they’ve only recently started actually talking to each other.
“When is the hearing?” the Duke asks. “How long do we have to prepare?”
“Six weeks,” Lady Margaret says. “The petition was filed yesterday. The courts will hear arguments in mid-June. So you have until then to either consummate the marriage or gather enough evidence of genuine partnership that consummation becomes irrelevant.”
Six weeks.
Emmy processes that timeline—six weeks to convince ecclesiastical courts that her marriage is real, that she and the Duke genuinely want to be together, that their arrangement isn’t just the sham Cordelia claims it to be.
Six weeks to prove something Emmy isn’t entirely certain is true.
Because yes, she and the Duke have made progress recently. Yes, they’re talking more, understanding each other better, building toward something that might eventually become real partnership.
But is it enough?
Is their fragile connection strong enough to withstand legal scrutiny and Cordelia’s vindictive assault?
Emmy has no idea.
And judging by the Duke’s expression, neither does he.
They leave Lady Margaret’s house in tense silence, Emmy’s mind racing through everything that needs to happen in the next six weeks—gathering evidence, preparing testimony, convincing the Duke to actually try consummating their marriage instead of just avoiding it until the deadline forces their hand.
“I’m sorry,” the Duke says in the carriage, breaking the silence with those inadequate words. “I’m sorry Cordelia is doing this. I’m sorry my inability to move past Caroline is making this harder. I’m sorry you’re stuck defending a marriage that barely exists because I’m too damaged to make it real.”
“Stop apologizing and start trying,” Emmy suggests sharply. “We have six weeks. Six weeks to convince courts our marriage is genuine. And the easiest way to do that is consummation. So maybe—maybe you could consider pushing through your fear before the deadline instead of waiting for perfect circumstances that might never arrive.”
The Duke is quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with how to respond.
“I’ll try,” the Duke says finally. “I don’t know if I can succeed. But I’ll try. Because losing you to Cordelia’s vindictiveness is unbearable. Because our marriage matters more than my fear. Because—because I care about you enough to at least attempt overcoming what terrifies me.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Emmy responds. “Just try. Before it’s too late.”
“Before it’s too late,” the Duke agrees, and Emmy hears the fear beneath his words—fear that he’ll fail, fear that six weeks won’t be enough, fear that Cordelia will destroy their marriage despite their best efforts to save it.
They spend the next few days meeting with the Duke’s solicitor—providing details about their relationship, arranging for friendly witnesses who can testify about their growing partnership, building a legal defense against Cordelia’s annulment petition—and throughout it all Emmy watches the Duke struggle visibly with pressure to consummate their marriage before the hearing.
“You could just do it,” Emmy suggests one evening after a particularly exhausting meeting with solicitors. “Just come to my chambers tonight and we’ll consummate our marriage and eliminate Cordelia’s strongest argument. It doesn’t have to be perfect or romantic. It just has to happen.”
The Duke looks at her with an expression that’s equal parts tempted and terrified.
“I want it to be right,” the Duke says quietly. “I want our first time together to mean something instead of just being a legal requirement we’re checking off before a deadline. Is that too much to ask?”
“Maybe,” Emmy admits honestly. “When the alternative is losing our marriage entirely. Maybe perfect circumstances aren’t worth waiting for when pragmatic circumstances are available now.”
“I need a few more days,” the Duke says. “To prepare myself mentally. To figure out how to separate consummating our marriage from my trauma around pregnancy and loss. To actually want you instead of just forcing myself through something that terrifies me.”
“We have six weeks,” Emmy reminds him. “Well, five and a half now. Don’t wait too long.”
“I won’t,” the Duke promises. “I swear I won’t let my fear destroy what we’re building. I’ll be ready soon.”
Emmy hopes he’s right.
Because the alternative—losing their marriage to Cordelia’s annulment petition because the Duke couldn’t overcome his trauma in time—is unbearable.
And Emmy refuses to let Cordelia win.
Not after everything they’ve survived to get to this fragile almost-real partnership.
Not when Emmy is starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—the Duke actually cares about her enough to eventually choose her over his fear.
However little time remains.
However much pressure the deadline creates.
However uncertain she is that six weeks will be enough.
She’ll keep fighting.
For their marriage.
For the future they’re trying to build.
For the hope that love can overcome fear.
Eventually.
If the Duke will let it.
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