Page 7 of Tamed By her Duke

Evan, for his part, had once told Grace he’d “rather kiss an angry viper” than serve under his father’s political agenda, so the duke’s fears were not, alas, unfounded.

“Hm,” said the duke again.

Grace waited. Her father waited. Grace stifled a sigh. She hated these stupid games, and she was so wretchedly tired—it was past one o’clock in the morning before she’d even left the ball. She gave in.

“Did you have something more you wished to discuss, Father?” she asked sweetly.

“Indeed, I did, Grace,” he said, looking annoyingly self-satisfied. Why her father needed his ego stroked so regularly she would never know. The man was a duke, for goodness’ sake! One might think that would be enough. “You see, I don’t think the gossipisabating.”

This was a predictable stance, though hearing him say it made Grace decidedly nervous.

“You don’t.” She made sure it did not come out a question.

He answered it like one anyway. “I do not, and I cannot credit you with any cleverness if you truly do, either.” Grace did not react to the insult, as she rather thought that her father was accusing her of being a liar than of being a simpleton. “I think, rather, that the meretenorof the gossip has changed.”

“Oh?” If her father could use irksome monosyllables, then Grace could, too.

The duke narrowed his eyes, as if to suggest that he was not impressed with her antics. “Yes. They are—well, I shan’t soften my words for you, Grace. They’re calling you a whore.”

Grace couldn’t help it; she gasped. She knew, of course, that doubts were being cast upon her virtue. But to hear her father say as much—and in such deliberately shocking language—was another thing entirely.

The second after the gasp flew from her lips, however, she recognized what had happened. She’d been correct in her assessment—her father was, indeed, beingdeliberatelyshocking. He’d wanted her reaction, and he’d gotten it. All of which set him up perfectly for his next move.

Hetsked. “Yes, dreadful, isn’t it? Which is why I assume you understand me when I say that something must be done.”

Grace did not like this. She did not like it one bit. She’d come into this conversation prepared for a game of chess only to learn it was actually a bout of swordplay.

“It will fade,” she said, trying for firmness.

When a pleased smile spread across her father’s face, she knew that whatever she’d done, she’d played directly into his hands. Just like she always did, damn it!

“It will,” he confirmed. “Just as soon as you are married.”

Grace bit back a laugh. This was about her lack of suitors? Well, thatwouldclear itself up—no prevarication necessary. She might be the greatest scandal on two legs in London right now, but that would fade…at least enough for her utter monstrosity of a dowry to begin to look appealing to some man or another. It might even give her enough options that she could pick someone halfway decent, when the time came.

“I think it’s unlikely that anyone will propose this Season,” she said, like she was trying to soften the blow. “The whole…surprise is too new. But I’m sure I shall have better luck next Season. I may even find someone while Parliament is out of session, since we’ll be in London for the winter, I assume.” Her father considered leaving the capital tantamount to torture. What if someone did politics without him? “A quiet wedding would certainly put any lingering gossip to bed.”

“No,” the duke said soundly, causing his daughter to quickly run back through her words. Everything she’d said had been reasonable, hadn’t it?

Her father, however, wasn’t wearing the expression he wore when he thought she was being foolish.Thatexpression was of careful tolerance poorly pasted over irritation. He was wearing instead the expression he wore when he’d just pushed a major bill through a recalcitrant opposing party. His triumph expression.

“No,” he said again. “You shall be married next week.”

“What?” It was the first time all evening Grace spoke without thinking—except for that idiotic slip when she’d called the dukequite tall, of course. Yet this was too agitating to wait for careful consideration; the word escaped her entirely without her permission.

Her father smiled and Grace thought thatmaybehe was trying to reassure her.

“The gossip continues. The longer it is allowed to continue, the more it will seem like truth. We must make thetonforget, before damage to reputations cannot be undone.”

Grace was about to retort that her reputation was already pretty much in tatters before she realized that her father had been speaking about his own reputation. Of course. She was, at the end of the day, not just having a conversation with her father; she was conversing with the duke, the politician, the man who—everyone said—would likely be Prime Minster sooner rather than later.

She didn’t argue. She didn’t have the grounds, not really. Not only was her father entirely immovable when he made up his mind about something, but she’d already admitted that she didn’t think she could lure in a husband of her own accord, not this Season. Oh, he’d caught her, good and proper.

Just like always.

She sighed, feeling boneless. It was her stays, more than anything else, that was keeping her upright at this point. Sheknew she would have the most hideous red welts when she finally unlaced them.

“Who am I to marry?” she asked, voice dull.

---