Summary: After his father’s death, Edward Guinness sets his sights on his third cousin to keep the bloodline pure and the empire secure. What begins as cold strategy slowly turns into dark obsession and ruthless possession.
Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Loss of Virginity, Guinness!Reader, Cousin Incest, Forced/Arranged Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Abuse, Breeding Kink, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance
Six months had passed since Arthur and Lady Olivia’s wedding reception, yet the shadow of that night still clung to you like a bruise that refused to fade.
Dublin had moved on in the way cities always do — carriages rattled through the streets, the Liffey carried its usual traffic of barges and refuse, and the Guinness name continued to appear in newspapers. But something had shifted beneath the surface. The family was fractured in ways that could not be smoothed over with charity dinners or carefully worded statements. The scandal surrounding Arthur’s election — the accusations of voter fraud and bribery — had stained the name more deeply than anyone liked to admit. Arthur had been cleared of the worst charges, yet the election results were voided. The damage remained.
Edward’s presence in your life had grown quieter and more deliberate during those months. There were no dramatic confrontations. Instead there were subtle invitations to tour new parts of the brewery, chance encounters at family gatherings that never felt entirely accidental, and lingering looks across rooms that made your pulse quicken with a mixture of dread and something far more dangerous. You had tried to keep your distance. It was becoming harder.
One grey afternoon in late winter, your cousin Clara arrived at the house again, cloak dusted with snow and eyes bright with the latest gossip.
She settled into the same chair she always claimed and wasted little time. “The family is in chaos,” she said, lowering her voice even though no one else was near. “Arthur’s court case has been the talk of every drawing room in Dublin. He was cleared of the worst charges, of course, but the damage to the name… Edward is furious. They say he’s been working like a man possessed at the brewery, pushing expansion plans harder than ever. Determined to repair the reputation — no matter what it takes.”
You felt a chill settle low in your stomach. Clara continued talking, filling in details about board meetings and public appearances, but your mind kept circling back to Edward’s quiet intensity and the way he had looked at you in the gardens six months earlier.
Later that week the family held a public event to launch their new Black Beer — an attempt to present a united front after months of damaging headlines. The grand hall was filled with dignitaries, journalists, and carefully selected members of society. Crystal and dark wood gleamed under the gaslight. The air smelled of hops, polished floors, and expensive perfume.
You attended because it would have been noted if you had not. You stood near the edge of the crowd, glass of the new stout untouched in your hand, trying to remain invisible.
Edward found you anyway.
He did not approach immediately. You felt his presence first — that particular stillness he carried — before he appeared at your side, guiding you with a light touch toward a quieter corner of the hall where the noise of conversation softened.
“You’ve been difficult to reach these past months,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Simply stating a fact.
You looked up at him. The formal evening wear suited him too well. The months of pressure had sharpened rather than worn him; the same focused intensity was still there, only more concentrated.
“I wasn’t aware I was required to be easily reached,” you answered carefully.
A faint flicker of something — almost amusement — crossed his face. “You weren’t. But I noticed all the same.”
“The last six months have been difficult for everyone,” you said.
“Yes.” His gaze held yours. “They have. Arthur’s mistakes cost us more than he understands. The name is under attack from every side. Reputation is not easily repaired once it begins to fray.”
You hesitated, then asked, “And you believe you can repair it alone?”
“Not alone.” He paused, letting the weight of that settle between you. When he spoke again his voice was lower. “I have spent these months thinking about how to make it stronger than it was before. How to secure what my father built. The bloodline cannot afford further weakness.”
His hand brushed yours as he shifted slightly closer — not enough to draw attention, but enough that you felt the deliberate contact. The possessiveness in the gesture was quiet and unmistakable.
“You speak as though you already have a solution,” you said.
“I do.” His eyes never left your face. “You have always been steady. Reliable. The kind of person who understands duty even when it is inconvenient. I have considered every other option. None of them serve the future I intend to build as well as this one.”
You felt your pulse climb. “You’re talking about me.”
“Yes.”
He did not say the word marriage yet. He did not need to. The implication hung between you, heavy and clear.
A few days after the Black Beer launch you were summoned to the townhouse under the pretense of a family matter.
You were led into a quiet room on the second floor. Sean Rafferty was already waiting. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, sharp eyes fixed on you the moment the door closed. He did not offer a greeting.
“You’ve been thinking about it,” he said. It was not a question.
You remained silent for a moment, then forced yourself to speak. “Thinking about what, exactly?”
Rafferty’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you.” He pushed off the wall and took a slow step closer. His voice stayed level, almost conversational. “Edward has made his intentions clear enough. The family needs this. The bloodline needs to be secured. The scandal weakened us. Refusing would be… complicated.”
“Complicated for whom?” you asked, keeping your voice steady even as your pulse climbed.
He stopped a few feet away. “Your family’s investments. Your social standing. Even the quieter protections that come with the Guinness name. All of it is connected. Accept the arrangement and those things remain stable. Refuse…” He let the sentence hang. “I handle problems for this family. I would prefer not to add another.”
The threat was delivered without raised voice or dramatic flourish. That made it colder.
Before you could form another reply the door opened. Edward entered, followed discreetly by Mr. Potter carrying a sealed document. The room suddenly felt smaller.
Edward closed the door himself. He looked at you for a long moment, the same assessing intensity you had first noticed at his father’s funeral now fully focused.
“I will be direct,” he said. “The time for subtlety has passed.”
He moved further into the room, speaking with the same calm precision he used when discussing brewery ledgers. He spoke of the scandal’s lasting damage, of the need for strong heirs, of the way public perception could still be reshaped if the right foundations were laid. He did not raise his voice. He did not plead. He simply laid out the logic as he saw it, each point measured and deliberate.
When he finished, the silence stretched.
You found your voice. “You speak as though this is already decided.”
“It is,” Edward said simply.
“And I have no say in it?”
His eyes held yours. “You have the opportunity to accept what is necessary. That is more than most are given.”
You let out a short, disbelieving breath. “Necessary. You make it sound like a business transaction.”
“In many ways it is.” He took a step closer. “The bloodline must be secured. The family name must be strengthened. You are steady. Intelligent. Connected enough to be useful, but not so independent that you cannot be guided. I have considered every other option. None of them serve the future I intend to build as well as this one.”
“And Ellen?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. “I’ve heard the rumours. Everyone has.”
Something flickered in Edward’s expression — not shame, but a brief, cold acknowledgment. “Ellen is not relevant to this discussion.”
“Isn’t she?”
“No.” His voice remained quiet, but there was steel beneath it. “You will be my wife. The mother of the next generation of Guinnesses. I have thought this through carefully. It is the most logical path. I will not accept no.”
Mr. Potter cleared his throat and spoke in the careful, formal tones of a man who had spent his career navigating family decisions. “This union is in the best interest of the family, miss. It will secure the legacy and provide stability after the recent difficulties. Many would consider it a great honour. I urge you to see the wisdom in it.”
You looked between the three of them — Rafferty’s cold watchfulness, Potter’s polite pressure, and Edward’s unrelenting certainty.
“And if I refuse?” you asked, though part of you already knew the answer.
Edward’s gaze did not waver. “Then the consequences will fall where they must. On you. On your father. On everyone connected to your name. I would prefer not to see that happen.”
The full weight of it settled over you — the months of quiet pressure, Rafferty’s warning, the scandal, the rumours of Ellen, and now this. Shock and fear tangled with a deep, sickening sense of being trapped.
You stood there in silence for several long seconds, heart hammering.
Edward waited. He did not rush you. He simply watched, certain of the outcome.
Finally you spoke, voice low. “I need time.”
“You have until the end of the week,” he said. “After that, arrangements will move forward with or without your formal agreement.”
The proposal was left hanging in the air, heavy with inevitability.
You left the townhouse some time later with the walls of the Guinness legacy closing in around you on every side.
I feel enough time has passed that I can finally say that Enola Holmes 3 was actually a huge disappointment 😭
Coming from someone who is LITERALLY an OG superfan, I’ve been Hqlmsbury on like every social for about 5 years, I went to the early screening of EH2, like I’ve BEEN here.
Some moments were still quite good, and the acting was still fantastic it just felt very rushed and flat.
Holmesbury is my like #1 ship ever. Like not even kidding they’re literally my parents. But they fell flat, beach scene was great, the little moment they had in the tent before they hatched the plan was cute, but it felt like their soul was kind of gone. This was marketed as more romance but honestly they had better scenes in the first and second movies and it’s not even close.
I partially think taking it away from London might’ve been a factor, maybe that’s nostalgia idk but part of the 1800s aspect was also lost. It felt more modernized, (and no I’m not talking about Millie’s nails bc I legitimately didn’t notice them), it just kind of lost the vibe and tone of the other two movies.
Lastly, the mystery…….. was it really a mystery…. In the last two Enola movies there was a twist, a wow factor that came when everything came together and it was obvious now but you never would have thought it before. Having the villain be Moriarty makes sense, but we knew it was coming especially because of the hint at the end of the second movie. So unfortunately it lost me there as well. I was not surprised by anything that happened, and ultimately it became lackluster overall.
The BTS was lowkey better than the entire movie. There were SO MANY scenes cut. Give me the three hour cut please I beg, give me all the different variations of scenes, don’t cut it down to less than two hours and have it feel rushed but also like nothing happened all at the same time.
Did I still like the movie? Yes. However is it on par with the first two movies? Absolutely not. The first two movies remain, in my opinion, the two best movies I’ve ever watched lol. So it pains me that the third movie fell flat. I would watch a four hour long movie of Enola and tewkesbury solving a case but please bring them back to London and please bring back the old director or whoever it was that made the first two films fantastic. Anyways feel free to share ur thoughts
Summary: After his father’s death, Edward Guinness sets his sights on his third cousin to keep the bloodline pure and the empire secure. What begins as cold strategy slowly turns into dark obsession and ruthless possession.
Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Loss of Virginity, Guinness!Reader, Cousin Incest, Forced/Arranged Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Abuse, Breeding Kink, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance
The wedding reception of Arthur Guinness and Lady Olivia Hedges was still glowing even as the night grew late. Crystal chandeliers cast warm pools of light across the grand ballroom of the family estate, their reflections catching on polished silver and the dark silk of mourning bands that many guests still wore. The orchestra played soft waltzes in the background, strings rising and falling like breath. Guests lingered in clusters — laughing a little too loudly, drinking a little too deeply — as if the celebration could paper over the fractures that had appeared since Sir Benjamin’s death.
You stood near one of the tall windows overlooking the gardens, nursing a glass of wine you had barely touched. The opulence felt suffocating tonight. The scent of lilies and beeswax candles mixed with the sharper notes of champagne and cigar smoke. Outside, the night was clear and cool, but inside the air pressed close, heavy with expectation.
Your cousin Clara found you again, slipping through the crowd with the same restless energy she always carried. She grabbed your arm and tugged you slightly behind a large floral arrangement of white roses and trailing ivy.
“You won’t believe what I heard earlier,” she whispered urgently, eyes wide. “Edward was seen with that Cochrane girl — Ellen Cochrane — just a few days ago. In public. They were… talking quite closely. Some say it looked rather intimate.”
Your stomach twisted. Ellen Cochrane. The name alone carried a certain sharpness. She was known in certain circles for her beauty, her sharp tongue, and a reputation that walked the line between admiration and scandal.
Before you could respond, your eyes drifted across the room — and there they were.
In a dimly lit corner table, partially tucked away from the main crowd, Edward sat with Ellen Cochrane. They leaned toward each other, deep in conversation. Ellen’s hand rested near his on the table, her expression animated as she spoke. Edward listened with that focused intensity he so rarely showed in public, a faint, almost private smile touching his lips. The intimacy of the scene made your chest tighten uncomfortably. It was not the easy conversation of acquaintances. It was something quieter. Something that belonged in a more private room.
You looked away quickly, but the image stayed.
Near the far wall, Aunt Agnes and Anne stood together. Both women were watching you. Not casually — deliberately. Anne’s gaze was sharp, calculating, the same look she might give a ledger that did not balance. Aunt Agnes leaned in to murmur something, and Anne gave a small, measured nod. The interest in their eyes made your skin crawl. You felt like a horse being evaluated at market, measured for value and usefulness.
That was when you noticed him.
Sean Rafferty stood in the shadows near one of the side doors, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp eyes fixed directly on you. He did not smile. He did not look away. There was something knowing in his stare — as if he was already aware of plans you were not yet privy to. A chill ran down your spine. When your eyes met his, he held the gaze for several long seconds, unblinking, before finally turning and disappearing into the crowd with the quiet confidence of a man who rarely needed to explain himself.
You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the stem of your glass.
Before you could steady yourself, Benjamin Jr. appeared at your side, looking slightly unsteady but smiling in that vague, well-meaning way of his. His cravat was a touch crooked, and the scent of strong drink clung to him.
“Cousin,” he said, voice a little too bright. “You look lovely tonight. Edward mentioned you earlier. Said you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. Steady. That’s rare these days.”
He rambled on for a minute longer, complimenting your poise, your quiet manner, and hinting — with the clumsy sincerity of a man repeating someone else’s words — how much Edward respected you. It felt less like a casual conversation and more like a message being delivered, even if Benjamin himself did not fully understand the weight of it. You thanked him politely, your mind already spinning with the implications.
Benjamin eventually drifted away toward another group of guests, leaving you alone again with the weight of too many eyes.
And then Edward found you.
He approached quietly, cutting through the crowd with that effortless composure that seemed to part people without effort. In his formal black evening wear he looked every bit the rising power of the family — the youngest son who had already begun to claim the center. His eyes softened slightly when they landed on you, but there was an intensity beneath the charm that made the air between you feel different than it had only weeks ago.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said, stopping close enough that his voice was just for you. The scent of his cologne — something clean and faintly woody — reached you. “I hope the evening hasn’t been too overwhelming.”
You met his gaze. After everything — seeing him with Ellen in the corner, the gossip, the way Anne and Agnes had watched you, Rafferty’s stare, Benjamin’s awkward message — you were suddenly very aware of how Edward was looking at you. Not like a distant cousin. Not anymore.
“It’s been… a lot,” you admitted carefully.
Edward’s lips curved into a small, almost private smile. “It always is with this family.” He glanced around the room briefly before his eyes returned to you, lingering a moment too long on your face, then the line of your neck. “But some things are worth the complications.”
There was nothing explicit in his words. No declaration. But the way he said it — the quiet weight, the way his gaze held yours without flinching, the way he stepped just a fraction closer so that the space between you felt intentional — made it undeniable.
Edward Guinness was interested in you.
And the realization settled over you like a heavy cloak.
He offered you his arm. “Walk with me for a moment? The gardens are quieter.”
You hesitated only a second before taking it. As you moved through the crowd together, you could feel eyes following you — Anne’s sharp gaze, Aunt Agnes’s quiet assessment, and somewhere in the shadows, perhaps Rafferty still watching.
The night air outside was cooler, carrying the scent of damp earth and late roses. Lanterns hung along the stone paths, casting soft golden light. Edward walked slowly, matching his pace to yours, speaking of small things at first — the brewery’s latest shipments, a new contract he was negotiating, his quiet vision for expansion that went far beyond what Arthur seemed interested in. But every so often his hand would brush yours where it rested on his arm, or his voice would drop when he said your name, as if testing the sound of it in the open air.
“You’ve been thinking about the family a great deal since the funeral,” he said after a stretch of silence. It was not a question.
You glanced up at him. “It’s difficult not to.”
“Good.” His eyes met yours in the lantern light. “Most people look away when things become complicated. You don’t. That is… useful.”
The word hung between you, heavier than it should have been. Useful. Steady. Reliable. The same words that had followed you since the parlor conversation after the funeral. Edward did not waste language. Every compliment carried the shape of intention.
He stopped near a low stone wall overlooking the dark gardens. For a moment he said nothing, simply looking at you with that same assessing intensity. Then he spoke more quietly.
“There will be changes in the coming months. Some of them will not be easy. I would prefer to know that certain people are… aligned with the direction I intend to take.”
You felt the weight of the statement settle against your ribs. “And you believe I am one of those people?”
Edward’s faint smile returned, smaller this time, more private. “I believe you could be.”
He did not elaborate. He did not need to. The implication was already clear enough to make your pulse quicken.
By the time you returned inside, your heart was racing. The ballroom felt louder, brighter, more crowded than before. Edward remained close for a few moments longer, guiding you back toward the edge of the room with a light hand at the small of your back that lingered just long enough to be noticed by anyone watching.
You left the reception not long after. The carriage ride home felt longer than usual. Outside the window, Dublin’s streets passed in shadowed stretches of gaslight and darkness. Inside your mind, the evening refused to settle: the image of Edward and Ellen at that corner table, the calculating eyes of Anne and Aunt Agnes, Rafferty’s knowing stare, Benjamin’s clumsy message, and Edward’s quiet, deliberate interest all swirled together into something that felt both inevitable and dangerous.
Something was happening.
And you were no longer sure you could simply step away from it.
