The dimly lit room carried the weight of the discussion. The flickering light of a floating chandelier cast soft shadows over Henry Delacroix's face as he sat across from Rufus. His usual confidence, the calm authority he wielded so effortlessly, seemed to slip away as he prepared to speak again.
Rufus poured two glasses of firewhisky, handing one to Henry before taking a seat. He watched as Henry stared into the amber liquid, swirling it slowly, lost in thought. This wasn’t the Henry Delacroix he was used to—the French Minister who had navigated countless political quagmires with ease. This was a man weighed down by something personal.
“I don’t want you to think I’m making this proposal lightly,” Henry began, his voice softer than before. “Genevieve may not be my daughter by blood, but in every other way, she is. I promised my brother before he passed that I would look after her. That I would protect her.”
Rufus remained silent, waiting for Henry to continue. He could sense that the French Minister wasn’t done yet. The man’s grip tightened on the glass, his fingers whitening from the strain.
“She’s pureblooded, wealthy, and beautiful,” Henry continued, a trace of bitterness creeping into his tone. “Since she was still at Beauxbatons, people—families—have been eyeing her for marriage. They saw her as a prize, a way to elevate their own status, to tie themselves to a legacy.” He took a long sip of the firewhisky, pausing as though to gather his thoughts.
“I fended off most of those proposals, for years,” Henry said, a tiredness lacing his words. “I had the influence, the power to protect her. But now... things have changed.”
Rufus frowned slightly, his curiosity deepening. “Changed how?”
Henry sighed heavily, setting down the half-empty glass. “I don’t believe I can win the upcoming election. The tide is turning against me, and I’m almost certain I’ll be out of office within the year.”
The admission hung in the air, the finality of it weighing down the conversation. Rufus knew all too well the brutal nature of political tides—how quickly the powerful could be stripped of their influence.
“If that happens,” Henry continued, “Genevieve will lose the protections that I’ve been able to offer her. I won’t be able to stop the people who want to force her into a marriage of convenience.” His voice grew heavier as he spoke. “She’s resisted all these years. She hasn’t shown any interest in the opposite sex, not since her parents died. She’s been closed off. She kept everyone at arm’s length.”
Rufus listened intently. He had known Genevieve for months now, but he had never pried too deeply into her personal life. He had respected her space, knowing that grief had left its scars. Still, it was difficult for him to reconcile the idea that she had been under such pressure for so long.
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“And then, she met you,” Henry added, his eyes meeting Rufus’s. “She’s opened up to you in a way that she hasn’t with anyone else since her parents passed. That’s why I’m bringing this up.”
Rufus set his glass down, the weight of Henry’s words sinking in. He hadn’t realized just how much his connection with Genevieve had meant—not only to her, but to those around her. He had seen her strength, her intelligence, and her warmth, but he hadn’t known about the constant undercurrent of expectations pulling at her.
Henry continued, his expression serious. “I’m not asking you to marry her now. I understand that the two of you are still getting to know each other. But I want to make sure that when the time comes, she has someone who can protect her—not just politically, but emotionally. Someone who can stand by her side and ensure that she doesn’t have to face these pressures alone.”
Rufus remained quiet for a moment, mulling over the weight of what Henry was asking. The French Minister wasn’t looking for a political alliance—he was looking for a safeguard, a protector for his niece. And in his eyes, Rufus was that person.
“You’re asking a lot,” Rufus finally said, his voice steady. “I’m honored that you think I can be that for her. But I want to be clear—this isn’t something I can take lightly. Genevieve is... complicated. And this can’t be about politics.”
Henry nodded solemnly. “It isn’t. I wouldn’t be asking you if it were. This is about her well-being. And, frankly, I’m running out of time.”
Rufus understood. The French Minister was at the end of his political career, and once that protection fell away, Genevieve would be vulnerable in ways she hadn’t been before. But Rufus also knew that this wasn’t a decision to be made hastily, nor could it be forced.
“I’ll think about it,” Rufus said finally, his eyes meeting Henry’s. “But I need to speak with Genevieve about this. It has to be her decision too.”
Henry nodded, a look of relief softening his hardened features. “Of course. I would expect nothing less.”
The two men sat in silence for a moment, the firewhisky forgotten as the gravity of the conversation settled between them. Rufus knew that this was only the beginning of a much longer and more complicated journey—one that would not only impact him but Genevieve as well. The implications were vast, but for now, all he could do was take one step at a time.