Page 4 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
He cupped his hands willingly, and she gripped the side of the mare he’d prepared for her. Even being this close to a horse again brought back all the memories she’d treasured as a girl—the wind in her hair and the power of a cantering horse underneath her.
She inhaled, fighting back nostalgia and tears. Shewould notallow this to define or overcome her.
With Barney’s help, she struggled onto the horse and adjusted her skirt to cover her legs. With difficulty, she smiled. “Thank you, Barney. Likely, my uncle will be angry with me, but I will not reveal your part in this, so make sure you don’t, either.”
“No, ma’am.”
Feeling guilty about putting him in a difficult predicament, but knowing she had no choice, she picked up the reins and used her good leg to urge the mare into movement. The mare went willingly enough, too placid for Alice’s taste but perfect for this role.
She would get to the village, even if it killed her. And from there, London.
To stop a dastardly Duke’s wedding.
She grimaced grimly. If he thought he could dismiss her and go on with his life, she would show him the scope of his mistake.
And she hoped he would bear the full consequences of his actions for the first time in his selfish, reckless life!
Frederick Blackwell, the Duke of Langford, adjusted his cravat in the mirror. The man staring back at him bore no resemblance to his father, and for an extended moment, he wished he couldsee the old man again just once more. Then he could offer all the apologies he had not adequately made before his father’s death.
Behind him, Thomas Everston, the Earl of Denshire, lounged in a chair with a glass in his hand. “Sherry? You look as though you need it.”
Frederick shook his head. “Hardly seems good manners to turn up to one’s wedding reeking of alcohol.”
“One glass will hardly make you reek.” Denshire braced his elbows on his knees. “You know, it’s not too late to back out now.”
“As though I could do that. Think of the girl’s family.”
Denshire snorted. “She’d recover soon enough. Dullest girl I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet, but she’s pretty enough, and from good stock. If you hadn’t offered, there would be a dozen men in your place.”
“But,” Frederick pointed out, allowing his valet to shrug him in his velvet coat, “Ididoffer.”
“And I hardly know why, old boy.”
Frederick concentrated on the mother-of-pEarl buttons he was doing up his front instead of answering.
They both knew he had no real affection for the girl, but that was not why men of his station married. Love was a commodity few could afford—not even Dukes.
After the accident a few years prior, he had turned London upside down. Gossip had been everywhere. His gaze slid inadvertently to his writing desk, where he still kept some of the scandal sheets written about himself. He was known asthe feckless Earl—as he had been before his father died. The world had speculated about him, wondered whether he ought to be considered a murderer for the accident he had caused. People had died, and it transpired to be impossible to simply wipe the stain clean from his soul. For the rest of his life, he supposed, he would be attempting to pay penance.
Lady Penelope was not precisely penance, but it was yet another attempt to show thetonhe had changed, turned over a new leaf, and intended to settle down. As Denshire so succinctly put, she was from good stock. It was a reputable marriage. The kind of marriage his father would have liked to see him make.
“You know why,” he said at last. “Besides, Iwantto do this.”
“You want to repair your reputation,” Denshire began slowly, eyes sharp and piercing. Frederick made the mistake of meeting them in the mirror. “And you think she will erase the past, but—”
“Nothing will erase the past!”
“Then why are you so eager to marry her? There are plenty of other ladies who would gladly have accepted an offer.”
“But none as respectable,” Frederick waved a cavalier hand. “And therein lies her appeal. It is the right thing to do. We both understand the terms of our marriage and the union we will form. Perhaps you do not like her, but—”
“Don’tlikeher? Dare I say, I’ve had more interesting conversations with Corinthian pillars.”
Frederick scowled.
Admittedly, she had very little propensity for conversation, and did not seem to ever have formed an opinion of her own, but he was not marrying so he could enjoy her opinions. Frankly, it seemed a cruel thing to judge a woman for, when he knew plenty of opinionated young ladies whose opinions were derided.
“You can’t shake me from this,” he declared firmly. “Besides, if youhadintended to change my mind, you would have done better than waiting for the wedding day.” He finally turned to face his friend. “How do I look?”
