Page 22 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“Such a fine young age to marry!” Agnes called out, nodding with approval. Emma shot her a warning look.

“Though he inherited after his father’s death when the Duke was but nine years of age.”

“Only nine? What horror! That poor man, to lose his father when he was only a child!” Agnes wailed, but Emma had tolerated the interruptions for the last time. She reached down and plucked up a small cake and forced it into Agnes’ mouth. Frances giggled at the surprised look on Agnes’ face, but then burst out in a fit of boisterous laughter when she caught sight of Juliet’s expression.

“Are they always this way?” her cousin asked quietly.

“Oh no. They’re usually far worse!” Frances explained, smiling at both of her friends.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Emma continued while Agnes dabbed at the crumbs on her bodice with a cloth, “Father seemed to know all about him. Long passed father, a mother who died only a few winters ago from infection. Father said Preston is immensely wealthy, both from his father’s estate and from his own business ventures. Timber properties, he thinks it is, though he did warn that such a business could be a front for something nefarious.”

“A front? What do you mean?” Frances demanded, her eyes wide with worry.

“Father said that timber makes for a good explanation as to why there’s so much wood down in the hold of a ship, but that it’s really wooden barrels…”

No one spoke, watching Emma expectantly for an explanation.

“You know… for liquor?”

“Ahhh,” the three ladies answered in unison before their distaste at the news became clear.

“I can only hope he’s not a man who drinks,” Frances muttered sadly, but Juliet put a comforting hand on her arm.

“It would explain his odd behavior when forced to go out in public,” Agnes said, wincing slightly.

“I don’t think so,” Emma announced. “Father is furious at you for snagging a duke and taking one more eligible one off the market, and quite put out with me for letting you get to him first. If he thought the Duke of Preston to be something of a drunkard, he wouldn’t feel that way. My father is the worst sort of social climber, but he would never force me to marry a detestable man.”

Agnes elbowed Emma sharply in the ribs, and together they looked at Frances and Juliet sadly.

“Oh, good heavens, I didn’t mean anything by that!” Emma insisted, but Frances assured her it was all right.

“Not to worry, Emmy. I fear my aunt and uncle thought they were doing me a kindness in choosing such an awful lout for me. They seem to think that’s all I’m worthy of or capable of marrying. Meanwhile, poor Juliet here—”

Juliet shook her head quickly, glaring at her. Frances only nodded once and said, “Never mind. Let’s talk instead of the wedding.”

“Oh, I cannot believe it! One of our little sisterhood is already getting married!” Agnes cried, clapping her hands in excitement once more.

I can hardly believe it myself, Frances thought, though she was certain her reasons were quite different from that of her friends.

CHAPTER 9

“You’re certain you don’t mind?” Juliet asked timidly, looking rather sheepish.

“Not at all. If either of us can have any happiness, then we should strive to attain it. I have no problem keeping a close watch over you and looking out for your mother as well,” Frances explained as they walked towards the market.

It’s actually the perfect excuse to get out of that house, Frances thought, though she didn’t say it.

Ever since the Duke—Anthony Hughes, Frances kept having to remind herself—had made his offer of marriage, Lord and Lady Hutchings had become wholly unbearable. In just the one day since the announcement, both of them had fluctuated between berating her for accepting his offer or ignoring her completely. It had been almost comical at first, such as when Lady Hutchings had looked around in confusion when Frances spoke up at dinner, only to ask the others present, “Did you hear something?Did anyone hear that? It sounded like a voice, but I couldn’t quite make it out.”

Some of their other interactions had not been as amusing. That morning at breakfast, Lord Hutchings informed Frances that she would not be permitted to take any of her things with her as they had all been paid for by him.

“I shall have to sell them to get my money back now that I must pay Lord Rowland for his silence,” he’d growled. “After promising him your hand in marriage, he’ll certainly inform everyone that it was his decision to reject you and not the other way around. But I wouldn’t expect you to care about any of that now, would I?”

In just the space of a day, there had been not only the threats against her property, but also constant admonishments to reconsider. Her aunt and uncle had attempted to sway her to reject the duke, even going so far as to assure her that she did not have to marry the detestable earl.

“You don’t have to marry at all, you know. You can remain here indefinitely if that’s what you wish,” Lady Hutchings had said, attempting to sound sweet.

The thought of such an existence had made Frances almost physically ill. Remain at the house with two people who despised the very sight of her? She would rather consider Lord Rowland than endure a fate such as that!

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