Page 6 of If the Duke Dares
“Yes. Probably,” Pandora murmured.
“She will,” Persephone said firmly, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “In any case, I can’t go to Aunt Lucinda. You need her more than I do, and it’s the first place Mama and Papa would look for me. It’s probably best if I just go with them.” And do her best to ensure the duke wanted nothing to do with her. She’d been unmarriageable for three years without even trying, surely she could avoid the parson’s trap if she put in some effort.
“It’s unconscionable that they expect you to marry Wellesbourne.” Pandora’s brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry to have caused this, Persey. I hope you won’t hate me.”
Persephone gave her sister a warm, love-filled smile, desperate to ease her sister’s guilt. “I could never do that.”
“You won’t have to marry him,” Pandora insisted. “They can’t force you.”
No, but they could make her miserable. She saw no way to avoid accompanying them to Loxley Court. The only way to circumvent their plans was to make sure the duke wouldn’t want her as his wife.
Her mother’s words repeated in Persephone’s head. The baroness had never explicitly said Persephone was nearly worthless when compared to Pandora but threatening to throw her out of the household told Persephone exactly what she needed to know—that her parents didn’t value her as a daughter or even as a person. Persephone had never felt so horrid. Or so alone. She was simply a means to an end: saving the family.
Spinsterhood away from them couldn’t possibly be worse.
“I need to think about it,” Persephone said, trying not to let her sister see the turmoil inside her. “I’m sure the answer will present itself.” She could only hope.
Chapter3
Acton Loxley, Duke of Wellesbourne, stepped into the common room of the New Inn in Gloucester after washing the day’s travel from himself and taking a respite. Tomorrow, he would arrive home at Loxley Court, where his mother was expecting him.
So that he could meet a potential bride.
This was a monumental shift in his behavior. He’d spent the last several years avoiding even the discussion of marriage, preferring to enjoy his youth, which his father had always encouraged. Then, a couple of years ago, he’d begun to suggest it was time for Acton to do his duty and take a wife. His father’s death had prompted Acton to accept that it was time to wed.
Acton did wonder if there was something else prompting him to seek a wifenow. He’d cut his annual visit to Weston, which he made with his closest group of friends, short in favor of traveling to Wales to spend time with another friend who was more serious minded. Did that mean Acton was growing more serious?
He wasn’t sure, but he probably ought to if he was going to be a husband and a father. Hopefully, that would come when he met the right person, and mayhap that would be the young lady he would meet tomorrow.
The table nearest him was occupied by a young couple who were staring deeply into each other’s eyes. They appeared to be in love. Perhaps they were newlywed. Would Acton and his bride behave in such a way? He’d yet to make the acquaintance of a woman who inspired him to such fancy, but that was likely because he wasn’t made for such emotions. His father had always explained that men such as they had too many responsibilities to harbor sentiment. They needed to be focused and strong—and leave love and romance to poets and artists.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” the innkeeper said, interrupting Acton’s thoughts, which Acton appreciated. “The private dining room is just this way.”
As Acton followed the man, he cast a lingering glance around the warm, inviting common room. Perhaps he’d spent too much time in taverns or gaming hells with his friends, but this environment was far more enticing than a dim room with no one in it.
Except there was someone in it. A solitary woman with dark gold hair swept into a simple, almost severe, style sat at one end of the rectangular table.
“I apologize that I do not have a separate table for you, sir,” the innkeeper said with a faint grimace. “We are over capacity tonight, and this was the best I could arrange.”
“It’s quite all right. Indeed, I would prefer not to dine by myself in here.” Acton stood near the table but didn’t sit. His place had been set at the opposite end from the woman, and he much preferred to move it to sit across from her.
The innkeeper nodded. “I’ll fetch our finest Madeira for you, as well as your dinner.”
“The bottle, if you don’t mind,” Acton said with a smile. Perhaps he could tempt the lady to share it with him.
“Very good, sir.” The innkeeper bustled from the room, closing the door behind him.
Acton eyed the young woman, curious as to why she was alone. “Seems silly for us to dine at opposite ends of the table,” he said, picking up his utensils and moving them to the place across from her.
She lifted her head, and Acton took a few steps toward her so he could see her more closely. The moment her gaze met his, a ripple of awareness swept over him. Her eyes were a lush, vivid blue that reminded him of the sky in early autumn when the air was crisper and the colors more vibrant. An intriguing bump marred the line of her nose, and dark gold brows arched over her stunning eyes. Her pink lips parted—barely. Acton held his breath in anticipation that she would speak.
“Does it?” she asked, sounding uninterested.
“To me, yes. But then I rather dislike dining alone. Do you mind if I sit here?”
She took just longer than a moment to respond. “What if I said yes?”
Was she joking? Flirting? Or did she really not want him to sit there?
