Page 12 of The Duke and the Hellion Bride

“At least he is not Lord Herrod,” Evelyn agreed eventually. “Rumor says that he is not happy at all with what has happened. Furious, they say.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “You and rumor.”

“It is true!”

“Good,” Diana said, meaning it. “I hope he cries himself to sleep every night.”

To that, she could see her cousin grinning stupidly. “Which will be a far cry in difference to how you shall be going to sleep each night.”

“What does that mean?” Diana frowned.

Evelyn pumped her eyebrows. “You and the duke.Married. For all the rumors I have heard of the duke, there is another that caught my interest as much as it should catch yours.”

“Yes...”

“They say that he is quite... how shall I put this delicately. His has an affinity for horses.Stallions, as it is. And they say, or rumor does, that he shares more in common with them than what most men do.” She raised both eyebrows at Diana.

It took Diana a moment to understand what her cousin meant.Stallions? What on earth is she....“Evelyn!” Diana cried when she understood. “That is... I do not believe... who have you been speaking with!” She felt her cheeks flush bright pink and her chest turn hot.

Evelyn pumped her eyebrows. “I will never tell, you lucky woman.”

Diana tried to shake it off, forcing herself to look away from her cousin’s suggestive stare. Although despite her efforts at keeping her mind elsewhere, now there was little she could do but think about the duke’s... um... what was she saying?

That was the other piece of this most confusing puzzle. One that Diana still did not fully understand. If this was an ordinary marriage, she would obviously be expected to bed the duke and produce children. That was what a wife was for, was it not? But the duke had been at pains to assure her that this was a marriage of convenience only. As to what that would entail, that was where her mind wandered often.

Diana found the duke attractive. There was no use in denying it. She just did not know if he felt the same about her. Again, what did he expect? And what could she expect? Was she to treat him as a wife would her husband? Was she to... to go to bed with him whenever he asked? And did she want to?

It was all very confusing, which was why she hadn’t told anyone of this arrangement. Even Evelyn assumed the duke wished for a normal marriage. Hence, her mentioning of his... well, yes. That.

“Oh no,” Evelyn sighed suddenly, and Diana felt her body sag. “What now?”

Diana perked up, glad for the distraction, only to see one of the household staff rushing their way. No doubt her mother was sending for her, which meant the afternoon promised to be a very long one indeed.

“Miss Goldsmith!” the servant cried out. “I am so sorry to disturb.”

“What does she wish for now,” Diana said with a sigh. “Let me guess, my mother has again changed her mind on what dress I shall wear. Tell her --”

“Oh, no, Miss Goldsmith. It is not your mother. It is the Dowager Duchess of Albury. She arrived not a minute ago and wishes to speak with you.”

Diana blinked. “Albury... the duke’s grandmother?”

“The very same, Miss Goldsmith.”

“What does she want?” Evelyn asked.

It was a good question. One that Diana would have an answer to shortly, she was sure. Not that she was looking forward to this answer. Somehow, she sensed any fears she might have had about the duke were about to be realized. That this marriage of convenience was about to become very real.

ChapterFive

Diana found her mother and the dowager duchess sitting together in the drawing room, sharing tea. It was, unexpectedly, a strange sight.

Growing up, Diana had always thought of her mother as an all-powerful being. Indomitable in her presence. Unimpeachable in her righteousness. The kind of woman that mountains would move out of the way for, because to try and stop her once she was on the path was foolhardy and not worth the drama it caused.

Seeing her with the dowager duchess shattered this reality.

The Dowager Duchess of Albury was indeed much older than her mother. Smaller too, both in size and stature. Withered, was how one might describe her. With her greying hair and winkled skin and frail limbs, she looked as if a stiff breeze would blow her over. And yet there was a power that radiated from her very presence. A regency that was all-consuming, one that Diana felt trapped in the moment the elderly woman turned and saw her coming.

Even Diana’s mother seemed powerless against her. Oh sure, she sat up straight, she presented herself well, and this was her home, her kingdom of sorts. But Diana could tell how hard her mother was working to retain some semblance of control, as if desperate to prove to the dowager duchess that she was worth taking seriously.

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