Page 7 of His Arranged Duchess
“I was involved in an unfortunate accident several years ago,” he responded smoothly. It sounded rather practiced. “I left the country. It seemed wisest. As you might well have guessed, some people have taken great offence to my existence in general. I imagine they shall get used to it, however. I returned because I missed my family, only to find that my brother was two years dead and no one had been able to contact me.”
Frances flinched a little at that, eyes widening. She had no siblings, but had often thought it would be nice to have a brother or a sister. Some of the few friends she’d made during her Season had had siblings, and their relationships seemed to be wonderfully close. She’d known sisters who were inseparable, joined at the hip.
I always wanted a friend like that. How would I feel if I returned and found them gone, vanished from my life entirely?
Well, as Uncle Cassian would say, it made no sense to imagine scenarios that would never exist. Of course, he’d said that about Frances’s writing, having read one of her more far-fetched stories.
She was only glad he hadn’t come across some of her more experimental work.
“I think,” she said carefully, “that we should take a little time to confirm that this is the best course of action. I do not know youat all, and you do not know me. I imagine that your reputation would not stand up to scrutiny.”
He grinned. “And what about yours, Miss Knight? Would yours stand up to a thorough investigation?”
Her head shot up, ice-cold fear clamping around her throat.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
She realized an instant too late that she’d made a mistake. Snapping like that was a bad idea. It was defensive and made her look guilty.
Which, of course, I am.
She swallowed this thought and tried to think of more innocent reflections. The duke’s face had not changed; although she could have sworn she saw a flicker ofsomethingin his eye.
At last, Frances gave up first, shuffling backwards under the pretense of adjusting her gown. It was really too much, standing so close to him. There was something intoxicating about the scent of him, to say nothing of the warmth radiating from his body.
A forearm’s length away! She had stood less than a forearm’s length away from a gentleman who quite clearly had a terrible reputation. That might get her vouchers to Almack’s revoked, if such a thing were said to the wrong patron.
What am I thinking? I’ll never be able to show my face at Almack’s again after today. The gentlemen will avoid me, which they already did, really, and the ladies will steer clear, too. It’ll be like I have a contagious illness. So that’s something to look forward to, I suppose.
She cleared her throat. “Forgive me. I’m a little snappish after the morning I’ve had. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Oh, I do,” he responded, gaze fixed on her. “But I would recommend a quick marriage. After all, news of this incident is likely already flitting around London. Both of our reputations are destroyed, and after this humiliation, Lord Easton might not wish to have you after all. I know his sort, you see. They’re very sensitive to rejection of all kinds.”
This shockingly accurate description of Nicholas was amusing, and Frances had to fight back a smile.
“I have no choice, then,” she heard herself say.
The duke did not seem to like that. He leaned back a little, a furrow appearing between his brows.
“I shouldn’t say that. I have no intention of dragging anybody up the aisle. I have been quite transparent with you, I think, but you are keeping your own secrets, Miss Knight. For example, why are you forcing yourself to marry a man you do not care for, and who does not seem to care much foryou? Lord Easton thinks only of your money, but I believe you know that already. You havea doting mother, and I do not believe that you are destitute. I imagine you could avoid marriage altogether, if you wished.”
“You simply have no idea what you are speaking of,” Frances managed, swallowing thickly. She tried to sound amused and confident, but her voice wobbled a little as she spoke, entirely destroying the illusion.
The duke smiled ever so slightly. “Don’t I? As to your choice of man, I imagine that’s due to your own reputation as a wallflower and a lady of no conversation – I imagine you were simply nervous, but people can be cruel, can’t they? – coupled with your lack of a father and a mother who was once an opera singer. Not every man is lining up for a wife like that. I imagine that Lord Easton was simply the first man who offered properly for you. But that begs a more interesting question – why did you take him?”
Do I have to answer him? Should I call Mama over?
Frances glanced over at where Mama stood, back very straight, face very pale. She knew that if she gave the word, or seemed distressed at all, Mama would fly over here like lightning and probably punch the Duke of Blackstone directly in his well-chiselled nose.
Mama wasn’t afraid of much.
But I’ll still be a living, breathing scandal. I’ll still be a spinster. A wallflower. Afailure.
“As I said,” the duke continued, beginning to sound almost bored. “I shan’t pressure you into anything. You may do as you wish. If you’re satisfied with your current choice of groom, then marry him. I shan’t stand in your way. But the fact stands that by contract, no matter how old it is, you still belong to me.”
Frances breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she’d decided.
“Come,” she said abruptly, turning on her heel and striding over to where Mama stood. She did not look at Lord Easton. “Mama, where is the rector? I’m getting married after all.”
