Page 15 of Three Nights with the Beastly Duke

Marianne looked up from her embroidery and smiled at her son. “Darling,” she greeted happily, patting the cushion beside her. “Of course, I do. I was just trying to finish these last few stitches before I retire to bed. Do you mind if I continue while you talk?”

“Not at all,” Arthur replied, taking a seat beside her. “Did you enjoy our time at the Opera with the Dennis family?”

Marianne smiled and nodded as her eyes and hands remained on her needlework. “It was a lovely production, and Lord Donset and his daughters seem most pleasant.”

“Indeed,” Arthur agreed, studying her.

He was trying to focus on the subject at hand, but his thoughts kept fleeing back to Lavinia. She had looked ravishing at the Opera. Not pretty or beautiful like the other ladies. She was more than that. She was powerful. More goddess than human.

“Miss Rebecca, though,” he went on, struggling to control his thoughts, “she still seems quite unnerved about our engagement. And the company she keeps gives me pause.”

Marianne looked up at him from her needlework, studying him over the rim of her small spectacles. Then, with a sigh, she tucked the needle into the fabric and set her piece aside.

“Miss Rebecca did seem a bit distant,” she agreed, after taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “But she is young. And obviously very popular in the London circles. Of course, she will be resistant to change at first. But give her time. She will find new friends and new passions in Whitekin as your wife.”

“And what if she does not?” Arthur asked.

“She will.” Marianne sighed. “I was the same way when I found out about my engagement to your father. But we ended up in a very beautiful marriage. It just takes time. You will see, and so will Miss Rebecca.”

“I am not so sure, Mother,” Arthur replied, shaking his head. “However, Miss Dennis, she is quite amicable. And you should have heard the way she defended our family.”

“I am sure Miss Dennis is as lovely as she looks,” Marianne countered, “but do not forget that she, too, has been embroiled in scandal. Miss Rebecca, though, has not. And is obviously much adored. If you cannot accept this marriage as a love match, then consider it one of convenience. By marrying her, you are proving that there is nothing wrong with you or our family, and others will be forced to see it.”

“But, Mother—”

Marianne stopped her son, grabbing him tightly by the wrist and looking him square in the eye. “It is your duty to restore our family’s reputation, Arthur,” she stated, her tone grave. “Yours and yours alone. You will marry Miss Rebecca. And soon. Lord Donset and I have spoken, and we both agree three months is too long.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked.

The image of Lavinia suddenly appeared in his mind, and he felt a sense of longing pass through him.

“Exactly what I said,” his mother stated matter-of-factly. “Three months is too long. He and I have spoken with the bishop of the church. Your wedding ceremony will be at the end of the month.”

Arthur balked at this. Since meeting Lavinia at Donset Estate, he could not stop thinking about her. But perhaps that was why his mother was right. If he spent three more months close to Lavinia, he might not be able to think straight. Let alone keep his hands to himself. There was trouble here, and he knew it.

“Very well,” he sighed, feeling defeated in more ways than one. “We shall do things your way, Mother.”

* * *

“You’re going to unthread the whole thing if you don’t stop fiddling with it,” Rebecca scolded Lavinia as they rode along in their carriage. “What has you so nervous anyway? It is my head on the chopping block. Not yours.”

Lavinia stopped pulling at the loose thread on her black lace gloves and folded her hands in her lap. She and Rebecca had not said much to one another since the night at the Opera. Rebecca was convinced Lavinia wasn’t truly going to help her. And Lavinia was convinced that her sister was no longer the nice young woman she’d raised her to be. Either way, Lavinia realized,shewas the failure in this situation, not Rebecca.

When their had father announced that the Duke would be joining them at the annual Gardens & Conservatory ball, Lavinia had expected that another secret missive would come for her. But none had arrived, and she feared that her deal with the Duke had been compromised. If it had, there would be no saving her sister.

“I am in need of a new pair of gloves, Papa,” Lavinia stated, choosing not to retort to Rebecca’s scolding. “Perhaps we could go to the Modiste soon?”

“Yes, of course,” Kenneth agreed, a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at both of his daughters. “But you will need to be fitted for more than just gloves.”

Beside her, Rebecca immediately perked up. “Do we get new dresses, Papa?”

“Indeed, you do.” He chuckled. “You all do, of course, but you in particular, my dear. It is time we have your wedding dress designed and fitted.”

For the first time in days, Rebecca looked at Lavinia once more with a pleading look and clasped at her hand.

“We have months yet, do we not?” Rebecca asked. “I am not sure I am ready to think of such things just yet.”

“Yes, well,” Kenneth murmured, shifting uncomfortably in his carriage seat. “The Dowager Duchess and I have been communicating, and we agreed that three months is a bit too long. Especially after seeing how well these last few interactions have been going. You shall wed him at the end of the month.”

---