Page 9 of The Unwanted Duchess

CHAPTER 4

As far as surprises went, Graham decided that a not-unfortunate-looking lady appearing in his bed in the night was not the worst.

Not until he realized who it was at least.

In truth, he did not hate the girl. He pitied her a great deal, if anything, because he was all too aware of who had been behind her appearance at the party. It was not even her father though he would never have turned it down. No, it was Oliver.

“It shall be fun,” Oliver had assured him. “Once you get past the existence of the Earl, you will find that his daughter is quite remarkable.”

Remarkable. Graham had scoffed at it though he knew he would have been lying if he said that she was not at least pretty. He found himself looking at her a few times over the course of the evening, each time noticing how her hazel eyes complimentedher freckles. It was a foolish thing to notice on a lady, especially when all she seemed to do was scowl at him, but he could not help himself. If anything, her ability to hold his gaze only made him want to look at her more.

Which was likely to be exactly what she wanted.

Again, he could not blame her for that. He had not exactly been kind to her, and he hoped in return that she would not blame him. The Earl had a reputation that clearly preceded him. He was constantly trying to find a way to get ahead though it was unclear why exactly. He was also always drunk which had caused Graham to smirk at her when he saw her drunk herself. It was a strange sight, a lady being escorted to bed by her father, and what was even stranger was the discussion he had with her father when he returned.

“You must forgive my daughter, Your Grace,” he had said. “She has taken ill.”

“To be sure,” Graham nodded. “Perhaps it is simply all of the excitement of today?”

He did not know why he was giving her grace. It would have been reason enough to have them leave immediately as they were not fit to be houseguests, but he did not tell Oliver about it. Graham decided that it was simply because he had already complained to him about the two of them, and Oliver had refused to hear it. They were his friends whether Graham liked it or not.

And he certainly did not.

“You must know,” the Earl continued, “that my daughter is a respectable young lady. She is highly intelligent, and I am not saying that simply because I am her father. I am also not saying it because I wish to marry her off.”

But he had said that last part too quickly for Graham to truly believe him.

“Of course not,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Regardless, she shall show who she is herself in time.”

“I simply wish that my son could have been in attendance tonight,” he sighed, as if not even listening. “He is in Scotland, but he will be making his way here soon enough. You ought to meet him.”

“Yes, should the opportunity arise.”

Graham was quite aware that such an opportunity would mysteriously never present itself. No fault on his part, of course, simply that there would be too many things to do for Graham to ever be free to meet him.

“He truly is my pride and joy. My heir. He will bring such honor to my family. There are people that think I am too forceful in my talking about him, but you will understand when you have an heir of your own just how important they are. They overshadow everything.”

Graham truly hated the man.

“To be sure. Now, might we return to the others?”

“Yes, I believe that would be prudent. Perhaps they would also like to meet my boy?”

At last, when they were in the room, the Earl turned his attention to anyone that would listen to him talk about his wonderful son or at least those polite enough not to tell him to stop. A few hours later, it was time for bed, and Graham felt fortunate that he had not been confronted with him a second time.

He tried to be patient, though, as far as his daughter was concerned. He knew that she had overindulged that evening and that she did not know what she was doing or saying, but he was so aggravated by her. It was not entirely her fault, he had to admit, but there was nothing more that he could say about that. It would simply be for the best that they kept their distance from one another to avoid any further unpleasant meetings.

Then Lady Samantha appeared in his bed and somehow believed him to be the one at fault for that.

Graham found himself sleeping quite comfortably in her presence, not that he wanted to, of course, but after their dispute and her leaving, he could not help but feel as though his bed was colder. By morning, he was certain that their reputations would be in tatters, and they would be the topic of conversation for the rest of their stay, but when he dressed and went to breakfast, there was nothing.

Nobody said a word to him at all — with the exception of Lady Penelope, that was.

“You seem brighter than usual,” she said brightly. “Did you enjoy your night?”

He froze, eyeing her carefully. She was not a malicious lady, simply Oliver’s spinster cousin of four and thirty, but she did have an alarming talent for knowing everything about everyone, himself included.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

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