Page 21 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
“I suppose we’ll find out if the duke approves of our family soon,” said Violet, standing. “Mother says it’s likely he’ll make his intentions known at Camille’s ball.”
Bother! It was as if this plan was moving forward at the pace of a runaway train, and she was powerless to stop it. Since it was obvious her parents were not going to see reason, she had to get busy coming up with ways to make the duke see that marrying into their family would be a poor decision.
***
Evan settled himself against the plush interior of the Rothschild carriage and stretched out his legs as much as he could. As far as evenings went, dinner at the Ashcrofts’ had not been terrible.
His mother sat next to him and waited for the carriage to lurch smoothly forward before she gave him a brief glance. “Well, what did you think of Violet?”
“She was lovely. She’ll make an excellent duchess.”
Mother let out an audible sigh of relief. “Yes, I believe she will. She has a bit to learn, being American, but she seems bright and mild mannered. Both virtues will do her well.”
But she was not who he wanted. It was entirely likely that August would not settle into the role of duchess nearly so easily, but she would suit the role of his wife. He waited a heartbeat as the enormity of that thought washed over him. His wife. August Crenshaw would be his wife.
He turned the thought over in his mind like a new frock coat. Running his palms along the hemming to check for rough edges, smoothing out the lapels, and savoring the rich feel of the fabric before trying it on for comfort. It was snug like all new things could be before they became supple with time and familiarity, but the fit was good. Yes, this could work.
He waited the space of two heartbeats before he said, “I want August Crenshaw, not her younger sister.”
The steady clip-clop of the horses emphasized the silence that had fallen. His mother was a quiet person, rather like the younger Miss Crenshaw. He was not at all certain how she would take having the elder Miss Crenshaw for a daughter-in-law. He wanted August regardless, but he also hoped his mother could find peace with his choice.
She finally turned to him. “Do you have any idea what you’ll be facing with her? She’s not the least bit biddable or conventional.” Despite her words, her voice was gentle.
He smiled as he remembered the bold way August had approached him in the drawing room. Then again in the garden. Then his thoughts went further back to the kiss. “Yes, I know. That’s rather why I like her.”
His mother stared at him for so long that he was taken aback and uncertain of her thoughts. It had never occurred to him that she would say no. Hadn’t he agreed to thisscheme of hers and Clark? The final choice of his own wife should be his.
“You oppose August? Is that why you chose Violet instead of her even though she’s the eldest?”
“Mrs. Crenshaw made the choice. She seemed to think that Violet would make a more suitable wife, and I had no reason to disagree. Everyone knows the elder one is a bluestocking.”
“And bluestockings make terrible wives?”
“No.” She sighed and raised a hand to place it against his cheek, much like she had done when he had been a child. “You never wanted to take the path laid out for you.” She smiled and gave his face a pat before lowering her hand back to her lap. “She is more spirited and stronger willed, but it is your choice, dear boy. I would welcome either of them as long as they can help us out of this tangle you inherited.”
He frowned at the reminder that they were not in the clear yet. When the carriage turned at Curzon Street and stopped before Sterling House, he disembarked to help her out but climbed back inside.
She turned on the pavement and raised a brow at him. “This is your home, Evan. Your suite is ready and waiting for you.”
He shook his head, still not ready to live in the house he considered his father’s domain. He kept rooms at Montague Club. With only a few precious weeks of freedom left, he intended to embrace them. “Thank you, but no. I’ve promised to meet up with friends.”
The evening had been a full day of honest work as far as he was concerned. Now that they were one step closer to restoring the dignity of the title, he planned to gocelebrate.
Chapter 7
Remember, all men would be tyrants if they could.
Abigail Adams
To: Maxwell Crenshaw, Crenshaw Iron Works, New York, NY
Papa is determined Violet will marry a peer STOP She is distraught STOP Please intervene STOP Letter to follow STOP
From: Miss August Crenshaw
To: Miss August Crenshaw, 12 Upper Grosvenor St., London
Appalling STOP Have demanded explanation STOP I look forward to your letter STOP
