Page 60 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“He’s an old friend. I’m not going to sue.”
“She has already made a laughingstock of you by leaving you standing at the church. If you don’t take some action, the peerage will lose all respect for you.”
While he had to admit it had been at once embarrassing and humbling to be left at the altar, it was preferable to taking to wife someone who would be forever longing to be in the arms of another. “I’ll survive.”
“You really should not have gone with her. I’d heard rumors...” She let her voice trail off suggestively.
He wasn’t going to take the bait. He’d never been much in favor of gossip, perhaps because so much of it had surrounded him growing up. His father’s unfaithfulness was always fodder for the blatherers. “It’s over and done. I see little point in dissecting it. Although I suppose I should place an announcement in theTimes—”
“Absolutely not. Gossip will run rampant as it is.”
“Which is the reason an announcement is in order—so we control the facts.”
“Will you state you were thrown over? I should think not. It must be carefully worded so it is understood the decision to end things was yours.”
He sighed. “Who will believe that when I was the one waiting so patiently at the altar?”
“You announced the girl became ill. Upon further reflection, you decided it would not do at all to marry someone with such a weak constitution who so easily fell sick at the most inopportune moment.”
He laughed darkly. “I’m not going to disparage Lavinia. Besides, I doubt there is a woman in all of England who does not fall ill at one point or another.”
“Don’t announce it. I shall handle getting the news out discreetly. To ensure people understand you are well and truly done with the girl, I shall host a ball as soon as possible so you may select another woman to become your wife. I suggest you go with someone a bit younger, someone who will appreciate the honor you bestow upon her.”
He almost asked the butler to bring him some whisky for his coffee. “Mother, I am in no hurry to marry. Lavinia’s age coupled with Collinsworth’s concerns over it prompted me to ask for her hand earlier in the summer. But there is no reason now to rush into anything.”
“There is reason aplenty. We must get this matter behind us, else it will be all that is talked about next Season, in a most unflattering way, with speculation rife regarding why the girl felt a need to run away from you, if she discovered you are like your father. He has left you a disgusting legacy. You have an obligation to marry and provide an heir before you succumb to his disease.”
He sighed heavily. “I’m not going to become ill like Father.”
“You live the life of a monk then?”
“I will not discuss this.”
She slapped her hand on the table. “The best way to move past this embarrassing episode in your life quickly is to take a wife before year’s end. So people are talking about your marriage rather than conjecturing what is wrong with you.”
He didn’t think it would be as bad as all that, but he would welcome some peace at the table. “The Season is over. I suspect the day after my botched wedding, any families who had remained behind to attend followed the example set by those who had already headed to their country estates and departed the city as quickly as possible.”
“They will return to London for my ball, especially as the girls’ mothers will be desperate to land their daughters a duke.”
“I really think this can wait until next Season.”
“You misjudge the damage that chit’s disappearance will cause to your reputation and place in Society. I recommend you allow me to select the girl who will make you a proper duchess.”
Just what every man wanted: his mother choosing the woman he would bed. With a sigh, he shoved aside his plate and stood. “Seems I wasn’t so hungry after all. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Do be sure to bathe before joining me for dinner. The wretched smell threatens to make me ill.”
“I’ll be dining at the club tonight.” Heading for the doorway, he signaled to his butler. “Boggins, I’ll have a word.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
Once in his office, he walked over to the window and gazed out on the colorful gardens. He’d awoken to sunshine and now dark clouds were moving in. He couldn’t help but believe it was the different way each of the women with whom he’d spoken that morning viewed the world. Gillie, who had been raised with nothing, viewed it with hope while his mother, who had always possessed every advantage, took a more dismal view, one that quite honestly made it a chore to be in her presence.
“You’re to increase each servant’s yearly salary by ten percent,” he told Boggins, thinking of Gillie’s decision to open her business in Whitechapel because folks needed employment.
“Beginning when, Your Grace?”
He heard a myriad of questions in that one query. “Immediately.”
