Page 8 of A Bride for the Sinful Duke

His eyes flickered with amusement as he replied, “I see.”

Juliet did not know why, but his voice caused a rush of heat to color her cheeks. She lowered her gaze briefly before glancing up to meet his eyes again.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Islington?

If he was the Duke of Islington, that made him Lydia’s brother.

Sweet Lydia, she mused.

She had heard quite a bit about him from her dear friend, mostly about his generous and caring nature, but she had never divulged to Lydia that rumors about the Duke’s promiscuous nature that had briefly circulated throughout the Abbey.

She’d often wondered how such a man could be related so closely to one of the kindest souls that had ever existed.

Clearing her throat slightly, she spoke softly, hoping her tone carried her intended remorse. “I am sorry for your loss. Lydia was my very dear friend, and I miss her profoundly.”

The Duke’s face tightened slightly, but he nodded. “You remember her.”

“I could never in my life forget her,” Juliet said softly.

Lydia had been her only friend before her father had whisked her off to the convent. Even after the event, she had stayed in touch; each month, Juliet would wait by the Abbey’s gate for her letter. Her family had forgotten her, but Lydia had not.

“She was kind to me and was always full of life and love.”

“She was,” replied the Duke solemnly.

They stared at each other for a while, lost in their own thoughts. It was odd how the loss of someone they both held dear connected them in a way that transcended the circumstances surrounding their meeting.

Juliet felt a strange pull towards him and looked away, stifling the notion.

Her father cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Well, shall we sit? We have much to discuss.”

The Countess, who had been standing by quietly, gestured towards the seating area. “Yes, please, let us make ourselves comfortable.”

The Duke remained standing, his gaze fixed on Juliet. “There is no need for pleasantries. I came here to state the terms of our marriage, and after that, I will take my leave. The wedding will take place in two days as we had discussed.”

Juliet’s eyes widened in shock at the news. Not only were they springing an unwanted marriage on her, but she was also to be dispatched with haste.

“Two days? But that is too soon!”

The Duke stepped closer, his gaze as sharp as daggers. “I have already made the arrangements. I will not suffer humiliation by any retaliation you might choose to mount. You belong to me now whether you like it or not.”

Juliet’s anger flared, but she swallowed her intended retort, knowing it was futile. Instead, she tried to appeal to him gently.

“Still, two days is too…”

“Juliet, enough. His Grace has already made up his mind. He was kind enough to arrange your wedding in our stead. We should not act ungrateful in the face of his generosity,” Lord Campton scolded.

The whole charade felt like a ridiculous play. Surely, they had to understand that she was incredibly surprised about how rapidly the situation was progressing.

“That is not my intention, father, I merely wish to…”

“Do not waste your time voicing pointless notions. The deed has already been done, and nothing you say will change its outcome,” the Duke said evenly.

Embarrassed and upset, Juliet rose to her full height and returned her gaze to the Duke, her fists gripping the fabric of her dress.

“I do not understand how such a match came about, Your Grace, but I already know that I am not suited to fulfil such a role. I would have expected someone of your status to know better than to let himself be used for the benefit of others as I cannot fathom what you might gain from this arrangement. I do not care if thatis how you wish to spend your life… as a pawn… but I would prefer not to be involved in your games.”

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