Page 36 of His Unwanted Duchess

Her fiancé’s name was Stephen, she knew that much, but it didn’t seem to fit. He was simplyYour Graceorthe Dukein her mind, something haughty and distant. Plain, oldStephendid not fit at all.

“What I want to know,” Horatio spoke up, tapping a finger on the table, “is what he is playing at. Why does he want to marry Beatrice?Beatrice, of all people!”

Helena’s eyes flashed. “How dare you, Horatio! What a horrid thing to say! Our daughter is beautiful and lovely, and any man would be delighted to marry her. She is acatch.”

Horatio had the grace to look embarrassed, shooting Beatrice an apologetic look. “I am sorry, Beatty. I didn’t mean it in aninsulting way—truly, I didn’t. It’s just that… well, you’re plumper than is fashionable…”

“Horatio!I will throw the teapot at your head if you don’t stop.”

“It’s alright, Mama,” Beatrice spoke up, smiling wryly. “I’m under no illusions here. I amnotbeautiful, and we’re on the brink of bankruptcy, so?—”

“Enough,” Helena interrupted. “I will not sit here and listen to you demean yourself, Beatrice. You say you are not beautiful, and that is quite untrue. Yes, perhaps the fashion changes year by year, and this year’s fair beauties with waists a man can wrap his hands around are in vogue, but really, that is not achievable. Bodies are not clothes to change with the seasons. You are pretty enough, Beatrice, and even if you were not, it is character and what lies inside that matters the most.”

“You are right,” Beatrice agreed. “But I’m not sure the men of the tonwould agree. Or most of the women.”

Helena sighed. “Perhaps not. But that does not make it untrue.”

“Going back to the Duke,” Beatrice continued, carefully not looking at anyone. “I think he is marrying me because he feels guilty. Guilty over ruining my reputation so thoroughly, even though I did not want to marry the Marquess.”

“It would have been a good match,” Horatio tried feebly. “At least, it would have been if the man didn’t have so many vices.”

“But why would he speak up in the first place?” John asked, frowning and shaking his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. He’s not much of a philanthropist if the rumors are to be believed. Why would he involve himself in this way?”

The conversation was edging close to something dangerous, a topic that Beatrice did not want to discuss. Shecouldn’tdiscuss it, the Duke had made that clear. His rules were strange but very straightforward.

What sort of life are we going to lead together?

She shivered.

Not, of course, that we willbe leading it together.

She was saved from further explanation by the butler, who shuffled in with an awkward expression.

“I am sorry to interrupt,” he said carefully, “but there is a rather large box in the hallway, which has arrived for Miss Haversham.”

Beatrice flinched. “For me? What is it?”

“I cannot say, but it is from…” The butler hesitated, clearing his throat. “From the Duke of Blackwood.”

There was a moment of silence, then a general panicked scrabbling as they all shoved themselves away from the table and hurried to the hallway.

The butler had not exaggerated. A crepe-wrapped box, about as big as a medium-sized trunk, stood by the foot of the stairs. A purple ribbon was tied around it, and there was a note attached to the bow.

The others hesitated, hanging back almost as if they were nervous, letting Beatrice move forward to inspect her parcel.

It was a fairly simple note.

To Miss Beatrice Haversham,

I thought you would want to get married in a dress you do not entirely loathe.

I have enclosed the details of the modiste who sewed this gown, and you may address her for any alterations you wish to make. The bill will, of course, be sent to me.

The modiste assures me that the gown is à la mode and that you will like it very much. I have bowed to her experience in these matters.

Regards, S.

“S?” John said aloud.

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