Least Likely to Marry a Duke (Liberated Ladies)

‘And what if we do not want to marry each other? What if you had caused my father to suffer another stroke with the worry?’

‘We asked Mr Hoskins if the Bishop was all right last night and he said he was “bearing up with fortitude.” If he hadn’t said he was all right, we’d have told, honestly.’

‘But why don’t you want to marry Will?’ Althea asked. ‘Everyone wants to marry a duke. We saw them in the churchyard, like hounds on the scent.’

‘Not everyone. I do not. I want to choose whom I will wed. Althea, you are almost old enough to marry. How would you like it if your brother announced that he was marrying you off to someone you do not like, just because they are a duke?’

‘He wouldn’t,’ she said with absolute conviction. ‘He could not anyway, because Will is the only unmarried duke under fifty at the moment. And you must like him. He’s rich, there’s the title and everyone likes Will. He has ever so many friends and they say he is a great gun.’

‘They do,’ Basil assured her. ‘Even we like him—and he can be jolly stuffy and starched up, you know. I mean, he makes us chaps learn Latin and Greek and we all have to do this etiquette stuff and the girls have to do embroidery. And when we do something wrong he looks pained, which is pretty grim.’

‘Idiot,’ his twin muttered, jabbing him in the ribs. ‘We don’t want to put her off.’

‘I had already noticed the stuffiness and the starch. It is understandable, because your brother works hard at being the perfect duke.’ Whatever else she felt, she could not abuse Will to his brothers and sisters. ‘I would not be a perfect duchess.’

‘We like you,’ Alicia, usually silent, piped up.

‘Thank you for the sentiment. But as you all think it is acceptable to strand people on islands and ruin their lives I cannot say I place much value on your opinions,’ she said severely. They really did expect to get away with murder, simply by adopting those expressions of wide-eyed innocence.

There was a collective sigh and shuffling of feet. ‘So, are you going to marry Will, Miss Wingate?’ Basil asked.

‘Until Miss Wingate makes a decision, that is none of your business, Basil.’ Verity did not turn as Will spoke behind her. ‘And I suggest that all of you remove yourself from my sight. I still have to decide on what punishment is appropriate for you.’

The children fled, vanishing with almost supernatural speed. Will walked out on to the terrace and sat on the balustrade beside the arbour.

‘You have got rid of them all?’ Verity said wearily, too depressed to worry about her choice of words. Her nose was pink; she could see the tip of it if she squinted. Her eyes were probably red as well. She never could weep prettily, not that she made a habit of crying.

‘My stepmother removed herself with some drama when I suggested that her actions, although well meant, were exceedingly badly thought out. The episcopal party departed with fulsome assurances of discretion after I became rather more forthright than I ever expected to be with a bishop. Once they had gone your father assured me that he entirely accepts that nothing untoward took place, but considers that matters have gone too far to cover up. I agreed with him and he has retired to his room. Mr Hoskins assures me he is coping well and his pulse is quite calm. We discussed sending for his doctor, but decided the fuss might only agitate him further. But if you think it best—’

‘Thank goodness. I was going in to check, but I had best not disturb him now. And you are quite right about the doctor.’

So what does the perfect Duke do in these circumstances? Get down on one knee? Issue a lordly announcement that we must marry? Ask me what I want? No, that is too unlikely—not now Mrs Blessington is spreading the news from here to John o’ Groats.

‘I have a common licence,’ Will said abruptly. ‘The Bishop apparently travels with stock and he and that prune-faced cleric—Carne, is it?—saw it signed and sealed before they left.’

‘I see. So you cannot, after all, wave some ducal wand—or sceptre, I suppose—and solve this?’

Of course he could not, she knew that even before Will shook his head. She had best make up her mind to it, then—she was going to be a duchess. Was she the only woman in England who could think that sentence and feel ill?

‘Solve it according to your wishes, Verity? I am afraid not. Not now the cat is well and truly out of the bag.’ Will met her gaze straight on. ‘As I have been pointing out from the beginning, you have no choice. We must marry.’

Yes. The word trembled on the tip of her tongue. He was very convincing, very used to being obeyed and, despite everything, her treacherous body still wanted him. Give in. Give up dreams of living her own life, following her own interests. Stop deluding herself that she was offering her friends anything other than a very temporary sanctuary at the top of her tower. Yes.

‘No,’ Verity said clearly, despite her insides knotting themselves even tighter. ‘I have a choice and I say no. You, Your Grace, can lay down the law and tell me what the sensible,

conventional thing to do is. You may say I told you so when they all whisper behind my back, or cut me to my face. But I am entirely the wrong woman to be your duchess and you are the wrong man to be my husband.’

‘You will live to regret this,’ said Will—the Duke. It was not a threat, simply a prediction. He looked bleak. Well, that was two of them.

‘I regret that I ever met you,’ Verity said. ‘I regret that I ever got into that boat with you. Doing the wrong thing now is not going to make any of that better.’

‘You are angry with me,’ he said with infuriating patience. He stepped forward and took her hand. For some reason she let him. Verity looked down, wondering, as if she was observing herself for a long way away, why she did not pull free. ‘I understand that. But you cannot let that ruin the rest of your life.’

‘I am angry, yes,’ Verity admitted. ‘Angry with those children who ought to have known better, but whose upbringing has not taught them to think of others before their own desires. Angry with your stepmother for failing to consider what damage gossip could do us. Angry with the Bishop for his patronising manner and his interference.’

Will was still holding her hand, she realised, shaken at how easily she had accepted his touch. She pulled free and walked away from him for a few steps.

You cannot run away, that will solve nothing.