Page 90 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
He might. But then again, he might not.
‘It is also important to your claim that you wear them,’ Father said. ‘In public. Where they can be seen. Evidence of legitimate ownership.’
She needed evidence? ‘Are you saying there is a question of my legitimate ownership?’
Her father puffed out his chest. He always did that when he wanted to appear more important than he was.
‘Certainly not. But it wouldn’t do to let people think there was.’
Father and his plots. She would never understand what was going through his devious mind.
He gave her a considering look. ‘I hear you and the new Count are as thick as thieves.’
She stiffened. ‘What do you mean? We arefriends, that is all.’
Her father pulled at his bottom lip, the way he did when he was plotting some scheme to his advantage. ‘He’s looking for a wife.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Marry Charles? Are you mad?’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have to provide a dowry. He would get what he sees as his family’s jewels. And your future would be assured. I know you like the fellow. You spent enough time in his company.’
Her future would be assured the moment she reached twenty-five years—or managed to sell the jewels that were rightfully hers. Yes, she liked Charles. Yes, she had spent a great deal of time in his company, because he was the only one who ever showed her any sympathy after she discovered her husband was a despicable philanderer who had only married her to ensure her father would help him gain his lands back after the war ended.
Now father wanted her to marry his brother?
‘I have no intention of marrying again. Ever.’
‘Child, you are being ridiculous.’
‘I am not a child.’
‘You are certainly behaving like one.’
Aunt Lenore wrung her hands together. ‘Barbara, you are young. And you do like him. I know you do. Such a charming man. If only such a man had offered for me.’
She liked Charles as a brother-in-law. But not as a husband. She shook her head. ‘No.’
Her father shot her a quick glance. ‘There is another way.’
Barbara held her breath. Would he finally agree to let her go her own way?
‘You could marry this duke of yours. If he will have you.’
‘The Duke?’ she said faintly. She turned to her aunt. ‘What on earth have you been saying?’
‘I only said he seemed interested.’
‘And when did you say this?’
‘When I wrote to your father, of course.’
She needed to nip this in the bud. ‘The Duke has no interest in marrying me, and even if he did, I have no interest in marrying him.’
‘His Grace the Duke of Derbridge,’ the butler announced.
Barbara wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. The Duke must have heard her words; she had spoken loudly and with vehemence.
Even so, her heart leaped at the sight of his handsome face. The bruises had faded as to be almost imperceptible, unless you knew where to look for them. And the cut on his lip was little more than a tiny mark.
