Page 67 of A Duke in the Rough

“I hardly know her. Love can grow within a marriage.”

“True. My brother and Bea are a good example, although we discovered Bea had loved Laurence for years prior to their marriage. But they’re alike.” Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “A little odd, both of them, but together, they’re perfect. However, others aren’t as fortunate—especially if they have little in common. They drift apart, resentment grows, and each is miserable. I’ve seen enough matches like that to know I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy, much less a dear friend. Which is why I must ask you again, perhaps more bluntly. Do you love Anne?”

“No. But I could learn to.” He forced out the lie, or at the best, the hopeful goal.

Miranda shook her head. “Not good enough. I want my friends to marry someone who loves them completely. Who doesn’t think of someone else each time they look at them.”

Drake’s ears burned from the direct hit. “You have lofty ideals, my lady. I thought people in the aristocracy married for position, wealth, or power.” It was a low blow, he admitted.

Miranda didn’t flinch. Apparently, she was made of sterner stuff. “Most do. But I’ve discovered there is more to life. I urge you, Mr. Merrick, to put an end to this farce as soon as possible. The longer you delay, the greater the injury to all involved.” With that, she turned on her heel and left him.

Free from Miranda’s interrogation, he proceeded toward the staircase to check on Honoria. He only made it ten paces when a slightly deeper, more imposing voice stopped him.

“Merrick.” Stratford barked Drake’s name as if it were an obscenity.

Drake returned the volley. “Stratford.”

“LordStratford to you, sir. Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“That,sir, is none of your concern. I live here, and I can go where I please.”

“You live here by the grace of Burwood. You would be wise not to forget it.”

The irony of Stratford’s words was not lost on Drake. He felt his mouth creep into a smile. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. Now, if you would excuse me.”

Stratford would not be deterred. “It might surprise you to know I’ve come to congratulate you.”

Well, thatwasa surprise. “For?”

“Your attachment to Miss Weatherby. It seems you have lowered your standards—although they’re still exceedingly high for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” The man hadn’t changed at all, it seemed. Still an arrogant, snobbish?—

“A nobody. Less than a nobody. A servant.”

Drake clenched his fists, keeping them tight at his side lest he do something he would regret. “Is that what you think ofyourservants, my lord? Oh, wait. Of course it is. It’s how you treated my father, mother, and me. And to be clear, Francis Merrick was not a servant. True, you employed him, but as steward, his status was higher than others in your household.”

Stratford sneered. “Such as a groom?”

Drake had walked right into the jab, and he blamed himself for allowing his emotions to take control. Memories assaulted him. Standing in front of Stratford’s desk. His cap clutched in his nervous fingers. Asking for Honoria’s hand in marriage. Laughed at. Threatened. Turning down the offer to pay for a commission in the cavalry, only to accept it two days later when Honoria rejected him.

He fought back the bile rising in his throat.

“I’m no longer a groom nor in your employ. You saw to that eight years ago when you bribed me to go away. Now, please take your insincere congratulations and leave.”

“Oh, but they are most sincere. Anything that keeps you away from my daughter is most welcome. Perhaps now she will free herself fromthe notion of rekindling her association with you and be open to a more advantageous union. Burwood perhaps.”

Drake had had enough of the man’s taunts. “Don’t count on it.” As Stratford continued to rant behind him, Drake bounded up the stairs. But by the time he reached the landing, Stratford’s last words niggled at his brain.

Free herself from the notion of rekindling her association with you.

Had Honoria expressed such a desire to her father, or was it speculation on Stratford’s part?

As he strode toward Honoria’s room, he considered both, along with Lady Miranda’s plea.

He stood for long moments, his hand poised to knock on her door, debating the best course of action.

How many timeswould she run away from the pain? Honoria paced the floor of her room, trying valiantly to push the image of Drake and Anne from her mind and failing miserably.

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