Page 4 of The Wicked Duke's Convenient Bride
That night with Cassius seemed to loom silently between them, and Tabitha saw a silent war of wills in her parents’ gazes. Tabitha suspected that her indiscretion with Cassius had resulted in a quarrel between them.
“Perhaps the duke will prove to be a love match,” Lady Mayhew said. “Ours was an arranged marriage, if you have forgotten.”
“I have not.”
“And we are both happy with one another,” Lady Mayhew continued. “Who is to say that our Tabby Cat will not also find happiness with His Grace? Besides, His Grace has reason to be cold. I am certain that any man would be made a little jaded by the loss of both his wife and daughter. I heard he was terribly distraught by their disappearance.”
Tabitha had only been a girl of eight when the Duke of Hillsburgh’s wife and daughter disappeared. She vaguely remembered the rumours, though, of the distraught duke. The ton suspected that the Duchess of Hillsburgh and their daughter had been abducted to extort ransoms from
His Grace, but the ransoms never arrived. After two years, the Duchess of Hillsburgh and her young daughter were declared dead. Since then, His Grace had become a recluse. He seldom left his estate and never attended the ton’s functions.
He was still a duke, though, and had a duty to produce an heir. Rumours had swirled that he might consider a marriage of convenience to obtain an heir, and while Tabitha had not expected that he would choose her, she found the prospect of marrying him beneficial enough to try. With a cold and reclusive man, there was no danger of her falling in love with him or developing feelings for him. She would never make another error like she had with Cassius.
“I am confident this will be a good match,” Tabitha said. “I am honoured that he would extend such an honour to me, given how many beautiful women there are in the ton.”
Women like Lady Victoria. A mingling of anger and despair swept over Tabitha when she thought of the other woman, and a small part of her knew that her fury was misplaced. Lady Victoria had likely only done as Tabitha had; she had fallen in love with Cassius, a charming and handsome man. Still, Tabitha could not deny that thoughts of Lady Victoria—with her doe-like brown eyes and thick, dark curls—inspired the worst feelings within her.
The parlour maid entered the room and curtsied. “The Dowager Duchess of Hillsburgh.”
Tabitha straightened her spine. Her Grace had arrived, but what of the duke?
She and her parents stood, exchanging the proper pleasantries as the Dowager Duchess of Hillsburgh entered. She was a stately, severe-looking woman with sharp, aristocratic features emphasized by her grey hair, always pulled tightly back. She wore a fashionable green gown, which Tabitha gazed at admiringly.
“It has been some time since we last spoke,” Her Grace said, smiling at Lady Mayhew. “I am so glad for your visit today.”
She said that as if they were merely making a polite, cursory visit and not as if Tabitha’s entire future was to be decided for her. Well, not entirely decided for her. It was not as if Tabitha were unable to refuse. She could, but she was too aware of the potential consequences of rejecting the Duke of Hillsburgh.
“Indeed,” Tabitha’s mother replied, “although I always appreciate our correspondence. I have the deepest appreciation for a well-crafted letter.”
The Dowager Duchess of Hillsburgh’s expression brightened. It was known to everyone that Her Grace was of a literary inclination and took great pride in her penmanship and elegant phrases. Tabitha had heard that the Dowager Duchess of Hillsburgh agonized over every choice of wording; she never used a careless phrase or awkwardly placed word.
The woman’s sharp eyes turned towards Tabitha, who felt warmth flood her face. Although she was a well-bred lady and had been taught how to manage a household, having this stately and proper woman gaze at her with such a critical expression was still intimidating. At last, something in Her Grace’s gaze seemed to soften. “And this is the lovely Lady Tabitha.”
Tabitha curtsied. “Your Grace.”
They seated themselves—Tabitha between her parents and the Dowager Duchess of Hillsburgh opposite them. There was enough room for His Grace to seat himself beside his mother if he ever arrived. Tabitha resisted the urge to fidget with her gloves. Surely, he would be present here. They were to discuss his marriage, after all.
This was their first meeting before the wedding, and surely, His Grace did not intend to miss it. Tabitha thought about asking where he was but felt that would be impolite. After all, this was His Grace’s townhouse, and he would join them when it pleased him.
“It has been some time since we hosted a ball,” the Dowager Duchess said. “I must tell you that I have delighted in making all the arrangements.”
“I am most glad,” Lady Mayhew said. “Do inform me if you desire any assistance, Your Grace. I would be delighted to help your efforts, and I am sure my dear Tabitha would, also.”
It was just a ball; at least, that was what the ton believed. Tabitha knew that if this meeting went well, though, that ball would be the occasion when His Grace announced their engagement to all of London.
Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. She wondered if Cassius would be in attendance and if so, how he would receive the news. Would he be regretful? Betrayed? Tabitha forced down the lump in her throat, her grey eyes darting towards the doorway. The Duke of Hillsburgh had yet to arrive.
What if he had changed his mind on the matter and decided that she was an unacceptable bride? Surely, that could not be so, or the Dowager Duchess would not spend her evening speaking to them as if everything were fine. She was a gracious woman and surely would have informed them very politely that His Grace had decided to forego the engagement after all.
“I believe I have the ball well-handled,” the Dowager Duchess replied, “but if I decide that I have not, I shall certainly tell you.”
Tabitha, whose eyes were on the door, saw His Grace before he even entered the room. He was an impressive, towering figure with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Black curls of hair framed his temples, and his eyes were the green of springtime.
He was devastatingly handsome, dashing, and fit, which was especially impressive given his age. She knew he must be nearing forty, but Tabitha had always appreciated older men. They were wise and better-mannered than those young rakehells that comprised much of the ton.
As he entered, they rose. Tabitha’s heart hammered against her ribs; he was as handsome as Cassius, if not more so. She had assumed that the reclusive Duke of Hillsburgh might appear like a hermit, like a medieval illustration of a madman living in the woods, but he was certainly the opposite. She stepped forward in greeting and stumbled over the hem of her gown. A hot flush spread across her face as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. His eyes never left her face, and Tabitha knew a mortifying flush must have spread across her countenance.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice wavering beneath his intense stare.
