Page 23 of The Duke Meets His Match

“She does not wish it to be acause célèbre. I am honoring her wish.” It wasn’t nearly enough, George knew, but it was all that had come to him. “I myself am not one for pomp and ceremony.”

“Surelyyou can tellyour sovereignwho this mystery lady is andwhere and when preciselythis wedding will occur?” the prince said sarcastically. He might be foolish, but he wasn’t stupid. “For, you see,we wish to be in attendance at this momentous occasion—especially after the great service you have performed for us.” It was clear the prince didn’t believe George’s betrothal story for a second.

One way or another, George was trapped.

“Pray,tell uswho she is,” the prince snapped.

George sought frantically for a name to give the Prince Regent. Ideally, it needed to be someone the prince wouldn’t know so George could buy himself enough time to get out of this dilemma. She couldn’t be fictitious, however, or he’d be in worse trouble than he already was when the prince found out, which he undoubtedly would.

But who? George’s mind was a flurry of faces and gowns and fans and giggles and blushes and ... “Her name is Miss Susan Jennings,” he blurted.

Wherethe devilhadthatnameof all namescome from? George pressed ahand to his forehead, wondering if his pneumonia had relapsed. He felt fevered,and his heart raced, and his breath was short—he must surely be delirious tohave saidthe harpy’sname aloud. “I will not dishonor her or myself by crying off,” he repeated.

“Susan Jennings, what? We do not recall a Miss Susan Jennings. Have we met her?” The prince obviously thought she was a figment of George’s imagination.“And she’s amiss?” he added. “You are choosing to wed amisswhen we haveoffered you aprincessfrom animmensely wealthyroyal family?”

“Yes, Sir,” George said, dropping his hand to his side, a cold sweat taking the place of what had felt like fever. “And I cannot say if you have met her or not—she prefers the country and a good library to London and Society, Sir, so she has not been in Town for several years.” Perhaps, after all, she’d been the best name to offer the prince, despite George’s antipathy toward her. She’d not been in London for eons, by the looks of her, and usually, the prince had a short attention span when it came to those outside the scope of his interest.

The prince shook his head, still in obvious disbelief. “Well, wesupposethatexplains the mystery, then,” he said at last, after a lengthy pause. “Wearen’tconvinced, but we will stop short of questioning your honor and integrity onthis matter, and we are decidedlynot happy, but we suppose we must acceptyour refusal. Princess Sophia Augusta and her parents will be disappointed when they learn the highly-sought-after Duke of Aylesham has found his own bride. Certainly, the Crown is disappointed.Extremelydisappointed.” The prince then gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “Know this, though, Aylesham:we expectto receive an invitation to the nuptials. We wish to share thishappyoccasionwith you. Furthermore,we expectthese nuptials to take placevery soon.”

The prince hadn’t asked—he’d commanded. And he’d made ‘happy occasion’sound like a hanging. He wasn’t far off in that regard, but at least George was still his own man for the time being. Except for the Susan Jennings part.

The prince stood. His interview had come to an end.

“We look forward to becoming acquainted with themost fortunateMiss Jennings,” the prince said. “We understand each other in that regard,do we not, Aylesham?”

The prince had called George’s bluff, blast it all to Hades and back.

“We do, Sir. Thank you.” George bowed formally and backed out of the room as decorously—and quickly—as he could.

George instructed Bentley to drive to Doctors’ Commons so he could procurea special license and then climbed into his carriage. He couldn’t see a viable way out of this tangle—not after Prinny’s stony insistence. He’d managed to escape the proverbial frying pan, but he’d thrown himself headlong into a blazing fire.The harpy, of all people!How the devilhadhername been the first to escape his tongue?

Even more to the point, how washeever to convinceherthat they were towed, andsoon, no less, and that the Prince Regent demanded to be in attendance?He wasn’t sure if he should weep or laugh with hysteria. Perhaps he’d do both. But not now. He’d do it later when he was home and could drink a stiff brandy or two—or three—in the private confines of his study.

For now, there was unpleasant work to be done, and it required that he be stone-cold sober.

***

Lady Walmsley sat in her favorite chair in her favorite dayroom with a decidedly unladylike plop, which only endeared her to Susan that much more.

“Well!” Lady Walmsley exclaimed while Foster attempted to place a smallblanket on her lap. She nudged Foster’s hands away. “What are you doing,Foster? It’s hardly winter, now, is it? A blanket?”

“This room tends to be on the chilly side at this time of day, if you’ll recall, ma’am,” Foster replied as he reluctantly folded the blanket over his arm. “I could have a fire lit, if you prefer.”

“I don’t prefer a fire. I’m perfectly fine! Wouldn’t you say we are perfectly fine, Miss Jennings?” Lady Walmsley said, snatching up her sewing and poking at it vigorously with her needle.

Susan glanced from Lady Walmsley to Foster to Lady Walmsley. “Perfectly fine,” she said, trying to sound meek for poor Foster’s sake.

“Very well,” Foster grumbled.

“I shall ring for you if I need you,” Lady Walmsley said grumpily.

Susan bit her lip to keep from laughing while Foster bowed and left the room. Lady Walmsley continued to stab at her needlework.

Fearful that Lady Walmsley might drag her to other shops and spend even more money on her than she already had, Susan had diplomatically suggested that they stay in this afternoon. “You’re too generous by half, Lady Walmsley,” Susan had said while they’d been seated together at breakfast. “You’d hardly met me before you decided to spend a fortune on me. You couldn’t have known if I merited such lavish gifts or not. I am exceedingly grateful, but if you truly wishto please me, I would prefer that we have a quiet afternoon in your dayroomgetting better acquainted. London and the Season and the shops and museums aren’t going anywhere, and I think a relaxing afternoon would be a nice respite. Don’t you?”

Thankfully, it had done the trick.

“I confess that it was an excellent idea that we remain at home this afternoonand rest,” Lady Walmsley said at length as she pulled her needle and threadthrough the fabric. “The past few days have indeed been rather busy, and I will admit I am a bit fatigued—but I shall deny it, especially if Foster gets wind of it!” Then she smiled at Susan. “You have been a good sport about all my indulgences for you. And Madame Veronique said that a gown or two would be delivered today.” Lady Walmsley’s sewing attempt was not quite so violent now as it had been when Foster had been in the room. “I can hardly wait to see you in them! We shall be able to retire the one you are wearing”—Lady Walmsley waved her arm in Susan’s general direction—“and see you in something proper at last.”

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