Page 37 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

As much as she disliked the idea of being pushed into marriage, she understood that her father only wanted to ensure that her future was secure.

Before it is too late.

“He is rather… roguish, I suppose?” she admitted to Phoebe.

Her younger sister narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Alice shrugged, carefully averting her gaze. “You know… he is a Wolf. And the Duke of Thorns.”

“And a known philanderer?”

“Phoebe!” she exclaimed, shooting her sister an angry glare.

“Well, he was a known philanderer,” her sister hastily amended with an apologetic look. “So, I suppose that old… proclivities die hard. But you know what they also say—reformed rakes make the best husbands.”

Except that I am not exactly marrying him.

“Since we have not really heard of him being up to his, ah, usual pastimes,” Phoebe continued, “he must be reformed.”

“I suppose that counts as a blessing.” Alice sighed.

The thought of Colin with other women was… unsettling.

No—actually, she disliked the thought of him being with another woman, which was quite odd because he was not really her betrothed, and she was not supposed to have those sorts of feelings for him.

Or was she?

The truth of the matter was that Alice had become very, very confused. And that kiss only exacerbated her dilemma regarding Colin and their arrangement and everything else in between.

He does not want to marry me, but he claims that for the entire duration of our “betrothal,” I am his.

Alice frowned to herself. That was just unfair.

And if he intended to constantly circle above her like a hawk, eager to swoop in at a moment’s notice, how was she supposed to find a suitable match for when their farce was over?

“I suppose you might just have to hold him off until the ceremony.” Phoebe giggled, snapping Alice out of her gloomy thoughts. “If not, then you better hope that His Grace has a special license to marry, or Papa will shoot him!”

Alice managed a tremulous smile at her sister’s words. She could not imagine her gentle Papa ever shooting anyone, but if the Duke of Thorns were to disgrace her, he very well might.

She sighed to herself and rubbed her temples. “I suppose I will just have to keep my distance for the length of our courtship,” she told Phoebe.

Her sister nodded. “We must still adhere to etiquette, of course.”

Etiquette. Indeed.

Alice was not quite convinced that a set of rules would be enough to keep Colin Fitzroy at bay. The man had been breaking rules since he was old enough to do so.

No, she had to keep some distance between them, not only because she meant to adhere to propriety but also because she did not exactly trust herself to not lose all sense whenever she was with him.

Twenty-nine more days. All I need to do is make it to the end of the month, and then I will be free from all this madness!

For now, she must do her best to resist him, and the best way to do that was simply to put a barrier between them—be it a chaperone or a piece of furniture.

Even distance.

At this point, anything would do.

It had to, or she would be ruined before she could find a proper gentleman to marry—one who would not aggravate or try to control her at every turn.

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