Page 11 of The Duke and the Unwanted Bride

“I did not say that I would.”

“Father!” Hannah gasped. “Surely, you are not?—”

“Quiet!” Lord Ramsbury snapped. “You are in enough trouble as it is.”

“Me?! I did not do anything!”

A ridiculous claim to make, seeing as she stood half-naked in the room. But she had to say something! Hannah had never felt so utterly useless and powerless in her entire life. Despite being half-naked, she felt invisible as the strings of her life were pulled and manipulated before her, unable to do or say anything to stop it.

“I have never been so embarrassed!” Teresa hissed, throwing her hands in the air. “And you, Phineas, you should be ashamed!”

“And I told you, I have not agreed yet!” Lord Ramsbury looked at the Duke, and his expression changed entirely. “We will need to talk terms, Your Grace. Obviously, I cannot just accept?—”

“Father!”

“Of course,” the Duke said coolly, all but ignoring Hannah now. “Shall we adjourn to somewhere a little more private to discuss?”

Hannah never got the chance to see if they did indeed adjourn to somewhere more private, for no sooner had he asked the question than both her sisters walked into the room.

“What on earth is going on?” Charlotte asked as she walked in. “I just saw Selina and…”

She spotted Hannah standing there, and her mouth dropped open, hitting the floor for how quickly it fell.

“Hannah!” Beatrice swept in. “What are you doing?!”

The pandemonium continued as the two sisters converged on Hannah, finally acting with some sense and helping her to pull her dress up, and then they led her out of the room. Hannah might have fought them, as she wished to stay and protest this impending marriage of which she was the center. But she was worn out, broken, barely able to think let alone protest.

Her sisters led her down the hall and to another bedroom. The walls spun around her, and the floor seemed to sway. She could barely walk, barely think, so out of her mind with shock and surprise and anger and fear and every other emotion in existence that it wasn’t until she was sitting at the foot of her sister’s bed with a blanket around her shoulders that she even realized what was happening.

And even then, it took her a few more minutes to process it.

“… you have only yourself to blame,” Charlotte was saying as she paced the room. She was the middle sister of the three and by far the most proper and prim. “Honestly, Hannah, what were you thinking?”

“Oh, it’s not her fault,” Beatrice sighed. She was the ‘wild’ one of the three sisters, with a wicked sense of humor and an inclination for the outrageous. She sat beside Hannah and rubbed her back. “By the sounds of it, it was an accident.”

“Who doesn’t check whether a room is empty before stripping off?”

“Clearly, Hannah doesn’t.” Beatrice chuckled.

“And the Duke…” Charlotte clicked her tongue. “Can you believe he proposed marriage? What on earth was he thinking?”

“That he wants to marry.” Beatrice shrugged. “And soon. You know how these dukes are. Although to be fair, we both do.” She smirked.

Both Beatrice and Charlotte were married to dukes, and both had entered these marriages under less-than-ideal circumstances. Charlotte had been forced to marry the Duke of Hayward because Beatrice was supposed to marry him but fled at the last minute, and Beatrice had married the Duke of Walford because she’d tricked him into a scandal to avoid marrying a baron who she wasn’t so keen on.

Neither were love marriages initially, even though romance had blossomed later on. From what Hannah knew of their marriages, both her sisters were in love and very happy. Which might have inspired her if it didn’t fill her with dread.

Even more so when she looked at them both, noting the acceptance on their faces… even the excitement. They were not there to help, but to convince her that maybe things won’t be so bad. As if!

“A marriage of convenience,” Charlotte sighed. “As if that’s the only reason to ever marry.”

“It is starting to look that way,” Beatrice agreed. “Although I think we can both attest to the success of such arrangements. I know I can.” Another smirk.

Hannah shrugged off her sister’s hand and then jumped to her feet. “Do not even think it!”

“Think what?” Beatrice asked.

“That you will be able to convince me that this isn’t the most awful, horrible, tragedy-stricken thing to ever occur! I do not want to marry the Duke of Thorne!”

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