But that’s ridiculous.’ It had slipped out. That was not supposed to be the answer, she reminded herself. It was the goal, was it not, to get her away from scandal and properly married? And to a duke. How could she object to that.
She’d imagined an elderly earl. A homely knight. A baron lost in drink or in books. Someone with expectations as low as her own. Not a duke, despite what Lady Danbury had planned. She had mentioned that the Duke of ThornHill had a younger brother. He had seemed the more likely of the two unlikely possibilities.And now, she was faced with the elder brother. A very unhappy and impatient man. He was definitely more than she bargained for.‘Do you find my proposal ridiculous?’The duke was staring at her in amazement.She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. It isn’t ridiculous. Of course not. Just sudden. You surprised me.’She was starting to babble. She stopped herself before she was tempted to turn him down and request that his brotheroffer instead.‘Well? You’ve got over the shock by now, I trust.’ Of course, she thought, swallowing the bitterness. It had,been seconds. She should be fully recovered by now. She,looked to Archie for help. He grinned back at her, open, honest and unhelpful.The duke was tapping his foot. Did she want to be yoked for life to a man who tapped his foot impatiently whenever she was trying to make a major decision?Lady Danbury’s voice came clearly to her again. ‘Want has nothing to do with it. What you want does not matter. You make the best choice possible given the options available. And if there is only one choice…’‘I am truly ruined?’‘If you cannot leave this house until morning, which you can’t. And if the reverend’s wife spreads the tale, which she will.‘I’m sorry,’ he added as an afterthought.He was sorry. That, she supposed, was something. But was he sorry for her, or for himself? And would she have to spend the rest of her life in atonement for this night?‘All right.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘If that is what you want.’His business-like demeanour evaporated under the strain.‘That is not what I want,’ he snapped. ‘But it is what must be done. You are here now, no thanks to my late mother for making the muddle and letting me sort it out. And don’t pretend that this wasn’t your goal in coming here. You were dangling after a proposal, and you received one within moments of our meeting. This is a success for you. One you should be very happy about. Can you at least spare me the pretense? I can only hope that we are a suitable match. And now, if you will excuse me, Imust write a letter to the reverend to be delivered as soon as the road is clear, explaining the situation and requesting hispresence tomorrow morning. I only hope gold and good intentions will smooth out the details and convince him to waive the banns. We can hold a ceremony in the family chapel, away from prying eyes and with his wife as a witness.’ He turned and marched towards the door.‘Excuse me,’ she called after him. ‘What should I do in the meantime?’‘Go to the devil,’ he barked. ‘Or go to your room. I care not either way.’ The door slammed behind him.‘But I don’t have a room,’ she said to the closed door.Archie chuckled behind her.She turned, startled. She’d forgotten his presence in the face of his brother’s personality, which seemed to take up all the available space in the room.He was still smiling, and she relaxed a little. At least she would have one ally in the house. ‘Don’t mind my brother ok . He’s a little out of sorts right now, as any man would be.’‘And his bark is worse than his bite?’she added hopefully. ‘Yes. I’m sure it is.’ But there was a hesitance as he said it. And, for a moment, his face went blank as if he’d remembered something. Then he buried the thought and his face returned to its previous sunny expression. ‘Your host may have forgotten, but I think I can find you a room and some supper. Let’s go find the butler, shall we? And see what he’s done with your bags.’She’d done it again. Authur had been sure that six feet of earth separated him from any motherly interventions in his life. He’d thought that a half-promise of co-operation would be sufficient to set her mind at rest and leave him free.Obviously not. He emptied a drawer of his late mother’s writing desk. Unused stationery, envelopes, stamps. He overturned an ink bottle and swore, mopping at the spreading stain with the linen table runner.But she’d cast the line, and, at the first opportunity, he’d risen to the bait like a hungry trout. He should have walked out of the room and left the girl to Archie. Turned her out into the storm with whatever was left of her honour to fend for herself.Or let her stay in a dry bed and be damned to her reputation.But how could he? He sank down on to the chair next to the desk and felt it creak under his weight. He was lost as soon as he looked into her eyes. When she realised what she had done in coming to his house, there was no triumph there, only resignation. And as he’d railed at her, she’d stood her ground, back straight and chin up, though her eyes couldn’t hide the panic and desperation that she was feeling.He’d seen that look often enough in the old days. In the mirror, every morning when he shaved. Ten years away had erased it from his own face, only to mark this poor young woman. She certainly had the look of someone who’d run in conflict of his accursed family. And if there was anything he could do to ease her misery…He turned back to the desk. It was not like his mother to burn old letters. If she’d had a plan, there would be some record of it. And he’d seen another letter, the day she suggested this meeting. He snapped his fingers in recognition.In the inlaid box at her bedside. Thank God for the incompetence of his mother’s servants. They’d not cleaned the room, other than to change the linens after removing the body. The box still stood beside the bed. He reached in and removed several packs of letters, neatly bound with ribbon.Correspondence from Archie, your beloved son. Each letter beginning, ‘Dearest Mother…’Authur marvelled at his brother’s ability to lie with a straight face and no tremor in the script from the laughter as he’d written those words. But Archie had no doubt been asking for money, and that was never a laughing matter to him.No bundle of letters from himself, he noticed. Not that the heart warming letters he was prone to send would have been cherished by the dowager.Letters from the lawyers, arranging estate matters. She’d been well prepared to go when the time had come.And, on the bottom, a small stack of letters in a heavy, cream envelope .Dearest Andrea,It has been many years, nearly forty, since last we saweach other at Miss Farthing’s school, and I havethought of you often. I read of your marriage to the lateduke, and of the births of your sons. At the time, I’dthought to send congratulations, but you can under-stand why this would have been unwise. Still, I thoughtof you
Lady Danbury would have been overjoyed, she was sure. The hardest part of the plan had always been the cooperation of the son. The dowager could be forced, but how would she gain the cooperation of the son without revealing all? Lady Danbury had hoped that one or the other of the two men was so hopelessly under the thumb of his mother as to agree without question when a suitable woman was put before him. But she’d had her doubts. If the sons were in their mother’s control, they’d havebeen married already.To stumble into complete ruin was more good fortune than she could hope for. She smothered her rising guilt. The duke had been right. She’d achieved her purpose and should derive some pleasure from it. She was about to become the lady to a very great, and very dirty, estate. She was about to marry a duke, the heart desire of every young girl of the country. And have his heir.She sat down on the edge of the bed. That was the crux of the problem. To have the heirs, she would have to b
‘Over ten years, ma’am.’ Parton saw the look in her eyes and grinned. ‘We’ve changed the linen since, I’m sure.’‘Of course,’ she said, shaking herself for being a goose.‘And her Grace died…?’‘In childbed, ma’am. His Grace was quite broken up about it, and swore he’d leave the house to rot on its foundation before marrying again. He’s been on the continent most of the last ten years. Stops back once or twice a year to check on the estate, but that is all.’Gwen leaned back in her chair and gripped the arms.The picture Lady Danbury had painted for her was of a man who had grieved, but was ready to marry again. But he hadn’t expected her. Hadn’t wanted her. Had only agreed to a meeting to humour his dying mother.No wonder he had flown into a rage.She should set him free of any obligation towards her. Perhaps he could lend her some coach fare back to London. Her Prospects were black, but certainly not as bad as attaching herself to an unwilling husband. She wasn’t that desperate Do
The Reverend was shaking his head slowly as Authur passed the explanatory letter to him. ‘As you can see, I was just writing to you to invite you to the house so we could resolve this situation.’ His lips thinned as he fought to contain the rest of the thought."Of course I needn’t have bothered.You hitched up the carriage and were on your way here as soon as the sun rose. Cometo see the storm damage, have you, Reverend? Meddling old fool. You’ve come to see the girl and you’re hoping for the worst".The Reverend looked sympathetic, but couldn’t disguise the mischievous smile as he spoke. ‘Most unfortunate. A most unfortunate turn of events. Of course, you realise what your duty is in this situation, to prevent gossip in the village and to protect the young lady’s reputation.’A duty that could have been prevented yesterday, if you actually cared a jot for the girl or for silencing talk.‘Yes,’ he responded mildly. ‘I discussed it with Gwen yesterday and we are in agreement. It only
‘Why not, Authur? She is never far from my mind. Just because you wish to forget her does not mean that I will.’ He flexed his hands and pushed away the image of them closing on Archie’s windpipe, and then placed them carefully on the table. ‘You promised a truce and I see how quickly you forget it. Let us pretend for a moment, Archie, that you have any honour left as it pertains to this house.’‘Very well, brother. One last game of “Let’s Pretend”, as we played when we were little. And what are we pretending, pray tell?’‘That you are planning to go willingly from this house, today, and that it will not be necessary for me to have the servants evict you.’‘Go? From this house? Why ever would I do that, Authur?’ ‘Because you hate it here as much as I do. And you hate me. There. There are two good reasons. I must remain here to face what memories there are. As you are quick to point out to me, whenever we are alone, I am the Duke of ThornHill . And now I am to be married, and chances a
Gwen stood at the back of the chapel, waiting for the man who was to seal her future. When the knock had sounded at her door, she’d expected the duke, but had been surprised to see Archie, holding a small bouquet out to her and offering to accompany her to the chapel. The gown she’d finally chosen for the wedding was not the silk, but her best day dress, and, if he thought to make a comment on the state of it, it didn’t show. It had looked much better in the firelight as she’d altered it. Here in ThornHill, in the light of day, the pitiable state of it was plainly apparent to anyone that cared to look. The hem of Lady Danbury’s green cotton gown had been let down several inches to accommodate her long legs, and the crease of the old hem was clearly visible behind the unusually placed strip of lace meant to conceal it. The ruffles, cut from the excess fabric of the bodice when she’d taken it in, and added to the ends of the sleeves, did not quite match, and the scrap of wilted lace at
She was still shaking with mingled passion and panic. How dare he? In a church! In front of the reverend! And she had responded like a cheap whore. If the kiss had been some sort of test of her experience, she’d probably confirmed hisworst fears. Her empty stomach groaned and she covered her mouth, afraid to look at the reverend’s wife unless she be sick on the marble floor. It would only have made the situation worse.And her husband would not have noticed. He was already striding out of the chapel and down the hall, following Archie at a safe distance, probably to make sure that he was headed towards the stables and away.She straightened her back and turned to the reverend and his wife, forcing a smile to her face. ‘Well.’ The word was arti-ficially cheery. ‘I must thank you, Reverend Noah, and Mrs Noah, for your concern in the matter of my safety and honour.’‘Hmm. Well, of course, the concern continues, your Grace.’For a moment she looked around, expecting to see her husband b
The reverend’s wife shut her mouth with a snap. ‘If I might see you for a moment in the hall, Gwen.’The word ‘now’was unspoken, but plain enough. And the sound of her name on his lips was strange, indeed. There wassomething about the way he said the ‘g’ that seemed to vibrate into a growl.‘If you will excuse me, for a moment, Reverend, Mrs Noah?’ And she rose quickly to join her husband in the hall.‘Your Grace?’‘You demanded my attendance, Gwen?’ He sketched a mocking bow to her.‘Not demanded. I requested that John find you and bring you back for our wedding breakfast.’‘I ordered no breakfast.’‘I did.’ She glared at him in frustration. ‘Perhaps you see no need to celebrate the day, and I could do without a continuation of this… this…melodrama, but the Noahs expect it of us and will not leave until the reception is performedDamn the Noahs!’‘Damn them indeed, sir,’she whispered, ‘but do it quietly. They are probably listening at the door.’‘I do not care what they hear. If the