Page 29 of Duke of Iron
“I had a tickle in my throat.”
June leaned across the settee. “You had an ace in your sleeve.”
“I did not! You wound me.”
Their laughter filled the drawing room while upstairs, the rustle and clatter of their mother’s toilette carried on with no end in sight.
“You are far too cheerful for someone about to be shackled,” June said, reshuffling the deck.
May smiled down at her lap, smoothing a crease from her skirt. “I know.”
“Aren’t you meant to be nervous? Panicked? Swooning in corners?”
“I have had quite enough swooning for a lifetime, thank you.”
June tilted her head. “So, what will it be like?”
May opened her mouth. Then closed it. “I have no earthly idea.”
The wedding was in two days, and she did not know what married life would be like. Not truly. They had not discussed it, not in practical terms. Not on any terms.
“I imagine,” she said slowly, “that we shall be pleasant for a while. Pretend. Then perhaps thetonwill lose interest, and he will have returned the baby to its family. And I suppose we shall go our separate ways. As planned.”
June froze with a card halfway to the table. “As planned?”
May took a breath. “You must swear not to repeat this.”
June sat up straighter. “Always.”
May nodded. “The engagement was not real. Not at first. A babe was left at his doorstep. He believes it is not his—and I do believe him—but thetoncaught wind of it and began to whisper. About me, about him. After I… after I accidentally climbed into his carriage that day?—”
“You what?”
May winced. “It was a mistake. I mistook it for my brother’s. But by then, the gossip was unbearable. So he proposed. Publicly.”
June stared at her. “To protect you?”
“Yes. And himself. It gave thetonsomething else to gnaw on.”
June blinked. “You are telling me that a baby was left at a duke’s townhouse, and rather than explain it, he got engaged to you?”
“That is precisely what happened.”
June flung her cards onto the table. “You have outdone all our family scandals.”
May tried to laugh. “You do believe me, do you not? About the baby not being his?”
“I believe you,” June said slowly. “But him? He is a rake, May. And rakes tend to sire surprises.”
May’s stomach twisted. She had not asked. Not really. She had not wanted to know, had not wanted to give voice to the possibility. But June’s words planted an awful seed.
What if it were true?
Her gaze dropped to her hands. “He said he is trying to find the parents.”
June reached over and squeezed her fingers. “You trust him, then?”
“I… I think I do.”
