Page 20 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“You will marry Lord Rowland in a week’s time as your uncle has commanded. We will seek the special license this morning and there shall be no other discussion on the matter.”

And with that, Lady Hutchings whirled about and left the room, likely convinced that Frances would have no choice but to obey. Instead, Frances smiled to herself.

Ah, but I do have a choice, she thought as she hurried to her trunk and fetched a piece of her preciously hoarded paper.

CHAPTER 8

Frances once again found herself pacing the short distance of her room, wringing her hands to keep from biting at her fingernails. Sara had been gone for nearly two hours, and the errand Frances had sent her on surely shouldn’t have taken as much time as that. She worried that the girl might have gotten lost, knowing from their reading lessons that her skills were not very solid. Then she wondered if something terrible had befallen her, and a feeling of guilt ate at Frances for putting her in harm’s way.

Just as she thought she might cry out from madness, there was a knock at her door. Frances threw it open to find the housekeeper standing there with a forced smile.

“Miss Turner, you have a visitor,” Mrs. Pennings said slowly, her expression unreadable.

I’m sure word of the discord in the house has reached the downstairs by now, Frances thought as she nodded her thanks.

With her head held high, Frances started for the first floor, Mrs. Pennings behind her like a gaoler accompanying a prisoner past the cells. There was no telling what awful surprise awaited her below, and she walked as though she was on her way to the gallows. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Lady Hutchings hadn’t brought a priest and a special license to force her hand, and she practiced what she would say under the circumstances. Lord Rowland would not be marrying her, today or any other day!

Downstairs, as Frances had hoped, the Duke of Preston stood by the window in the drawing room. Her aunt and uncle were seated, glaring at him hatefully.

Please let this work, she thought as she entered the room with a falsely agreeable demeanor.

“Ah, Your Grace. How lovely to see you again,” she said, addressing him instead of her family.

The duke turned to look at her, and though nothing about his blank expression changed, Frances recognized that this was still his attempt at looking pleasant.

“The Duke of Preston seems to think that he intends to marry you,” Lady Hutchings began through clenched teeth. Beside her, Lord Hutchings was red-faced and fuming.

“That’s right,” Frances said sweetly. “He proposed marriage a week ago, and I took some time to consider his request. Now, I have accepted his gracious offer. If he still intends for us tomarry, I am entirely agreeable to it. Happy, I would even go so far as to say.”

The duke nodded curtly, then turned his attention to the viscount and his wife. Frances looked to them silently as well, knowing that the first to speak would lose this war.

The silence dragged on. One thing she was quite certain about, though, was that the duke could outlast all of them in his ability to regard someone without speaking. Therefore, she did the same.

Finally, Lord Hutchings had had enough.

“There’s no dowry, you know. Did she tell you that before you forced your way in here and demanded we give her to you?” he demanded.

“Why would I require a dowry?” the duke asked plainly, as though the concept confused him.

“Isn’t that why any duke would marry someone like her?” Lady Hutchings sniped, waving her hand dismissively at Frances. “An untitled orphan with no future, no connections? What good is she if not for her father’s money? She’s utterly useless as a wife.”

“I think she’s quite a valuable young lady. She’s beautiful and kind, and moreover, she’s proven that she’s highly cunning. She’s outwitted the pair of you, hasn’t she?” the duke asked evenly, as though he truly expected an answer.

Frances looked away to hide a giggle of surprise.

“Mark my words, in the weeks before this charade of a wedding takes place, you will come to regret this. Both of you,” Lady Hutchings said forcefully.

“Weeks? I should think not. I’ve already applied for a license. We shall marry in two days,” the duke answered without a hint of emotion.

What? Two days? Why so soon?Frances thought, turning to look at him in shock. She concealed her surprise and looked back to her aunt and uncle, daring them to argue.

“Unheard of! Everyone will gossip about you! Why would any respectable young lady marry a man with only two days’ wait unless she was…compromised,” Lady Hutchings insisted.

“Oh? Were you not just going to have me marry Lord Rowland in only a week?” she asked lightly.

Lady Hutchings clenched her jaw angrily. Lord Hutchings somehow managed to shift to an even deeper shade of red, an ominous sign for his health. Frances only beamed at them, then turned to look at the duke. His blank face was almost enough to make her regret this scheme, but she was instantly reminded that she’d had no other choice. A man who’d sought her out for her beauty and her mind was infinitely better than one who was merely tired of taking to his bed alone.

A noise from the foyer caused Frances to turn around. Juliet waited in the doorway wearing her coat and holding her bonnet. She looked in at the tense scene and frowned, regarding everyone without saying a word. Lady Hutchings finally rose and stormed out of the room, followed shortly after by Lord Hutchings. They each brushed past their daughter without a care, nearly causing her to stumble.

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