Mastered by Love (Bastion Club 8)

With a salute, he started up the stairs in the wake of two footmen hefting a trunk.

Minerva waved the ladies up, too. “Come up, and we can be comfortable.”

In the duchess’s morning room, they sank onto the sofas, then Retford arrived with a tray. After pouring and handing around the cups and a plate of cakes, Minerva sat back, sipped, caught Letitia’s eye, and raised her brows.

Letitia set down her cup. “The reason we’re here is that the grandes dames have lost patience and are insisting Royce announce his betrothal forthwith.” She grimaced. “Of course, he’s now told us that the lady he’s chosen has yet to accept his suit. Apparently she has reservations, but he refuses to tell us who she is.” She fixed her brilliant hazel gaze on Minerva. “Do you know her name?”

She didn’t know what to say. He’d said he would tell, but he hadn’t. And she hadn’t anticipated such a question, especially from a friend.

A frown started to form in Letitia’s eyes, but it was Clarice who set her cup on her saucer and, staring at Minerva’s face, said, “Aha! ‘She’ is you.” Her brows rose. “Well, well.”

Letitia’s eyes flew wide. She read confirmation in Minerva’s expression, and delight filled her face. “It is you! He’s chosen you. Well! I would never have credited him with so much good sense.”

Head tilted, Penny said, “We’re not wrong, are we? He has asked you to be his bride?”

Minerva grimaced lightly. “Not exactly—not yet—but yes, he wants me to be his duchess.”

Letitia’s frown returned. “Pray excuse me if I’m wrong, but I always sensed that you…well, that you wouldn’t reject his advances.”

Minerva stared at her. “Please tell me I wasn’t that obvious.”

“No, you weren’t—it was just something about the way you paid attention whenever he was mentioned.” Letitia shrugged. “It was probably feeling the same way about Christian that made me notice.”

Minerva felt mildly relieved.

“So,” Clarice asked, “why are you hesitating over accepting his suit?”

Minerva looked from one face to the other. “He’s a Varisey.”

Letitia’s face blanked. “Oh.”

“Ah…” Penny grimaced.

Slowly, Clarice nodded. “I see. Not being a giddy miss with more hair than wit, you want…” She glanced at the other two. “What we’ve all been lucky enough to find.”

Minerva exhaled. “Precisely.” They understood.

After a moment, Penny frowned. “But you haven’t refused him.”

Minerva met Penny’s eyes, then set down her cup and rose; swinging around behind the sofa, she started to pace. “It’s not that simple.” No matter what Hamish thought.

The others watched her, waited.

She needed help; Letitia was an old friend, and they all had marriages based on love—and they’d immediately understood. She halted, briefly closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him.”

“We rarely do,” Clarice murmured. “It simply happens.”

Opening her eyes, she inclined her head. “So I’ve realized.” She resumed her pacing. “Since he returned, well, he wanted me, and I am twe

nty-nine. I thought I could be…close to him for just a little while without risking my heart. But I was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Letitia pityingly shook her head. “You’ve been infatuated with Royce Varisey for decades, and you thought you could be with him—by which I assume you mean you’re sharing his bed—and not fall in love with him? My dear Minerva, you weren’t just mistaken.”

“No, I know. I was a fool. But falling in love with him wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t decided to make me his duchess.”

Letitia frowned. “When did he decide that?”

“Weeks ago. After the grandes dames saw him in his study. But”—Minerva forced herself to go on—“that’s not the whole of my problem.”