Page 617 of From Rakes to Riches

She slid a purple kidskin glove onto one hand, then the other. “Do not follow or try to contact me, Rake,” she said. “I’m quite serious.”

A moment ticked past while Rake weighed his sister’s resolve. The fact was he could hardly stop her. But if he thought she was in no condition to care for herself, he wouldn’t allow her to go alone. She would hardly be able to stop him.

They knew as much about each other.

But the resolute glint that shone in her eyes told him she would be all right on her own.

So, when she brushed past him and practically flew down the stairs, he called after her, “Fare thee well, sister,” and let her go.

Feet all but dragging across the floor, he returned to his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him. The temptation to fall back into bed pulled at him, heavily.

But it was no use.

He needed to ready himself to pay a call to the Duchess of Acaster’s St. James’s Square mansion in a few hours. They were on each other’s social calendars for ten o’clock.

Whereupon he would enter her drawing room and suggest they join their lots together in marriage.

It was the only reason for the call.

And they both knew it.

The marriage you described with the Duchess of Acaster won’t make you unhappy… But it won’t make you happy, either.

Gemma’s words.

Happiness.

An idea better left to the lower classes.

Wasn’t that how Mother had taught him to think about it?

Hadn’t he, in fact, failed rather spectacularly every time he attempted to pursue the elusive ideal?

He wouldn’t be happy with the Duchess of Acaster—but he wouldn’t be unhappy, either.

With a wife like Celia, he wouldn’t feel the utter wretchedness that had settled like a brick in his chest for the last week.

Nor would he ascend to the heights he’d achieved with Gemma.

There were wants, and there were needs.

Hadn’t Gemma taught him about those?

Further, she’d been right.

In the moment, he’d been too blinded by his sense of betrayal to see the matter from her viewpoint. The fact was he’d never had to scramble or scrape for what he needed.

Not like Gemma.

Not as she’d been courageous enough to do.

But what did it matter now?

She was presently boarding a ship bound for New York.

And he was bound for a duchess’s mansion to propose marriage.

They each had their own plans, and their own lives to lead.

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