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He knew even as he spoke, even before he saw the surprise on the solicitor's face, that it was a quite
unnecessary gesture. His rank would have protected him. She would have suffered embarrassment and
even a measure of disgrace, unless the four people who had greeted her all agreed to say nothing about
her manner of arrival atSindonPark. He would wager that the morally outraged Peter would agree to no
such thing unless he was bound and determined to marry her at all costs. But nobody would censure
the Duke of Bridgwater for walking away from the woman. Nobody would expect him to do anything as
drastic as offering for her.
But he had known as soon as the truth dawned on him that he had no choice. There was the annoying
matter of his honor.
"You wish tomarryMiss Gray?" Mr. Watkins said, his eyes starting from his head.
"But of course." His Grace said haughtily, taking his glass more firmly in his hand and lifting it, though not
all the way to his eye. "Do you believe I would so thoroughly have compromised her, sir, unless I
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intended to make her my wife?"
He was thinking about the law of averages. His best friend and those other two friends of his had all
been forced into unwanted marriages though that was not quite true of Carew, who had married for
love only to discover that his bride had married for another reason altogether. All three of those
marriages had turned out well. Indeed he might almost use that dreadful cliche of them and say that the
three couples were in the process of living happily ever after. He knew he had just spent a few weeks
in their company.Three out of three success stories. Now there were going to be four such marriages. It
was too much to hope that there would be four out of four successes. The law of averages was against
him.
"I believe," he said, "that according to her grandfather's will Miss Gray must be married within the next
four months if she is not to forfeit her inheritance?"
"That is correct,Your Grace," the solicitor said. "But Sir Peter Griffin "
His Grace set his glass to his eye, and Mr. Watkins fell silent.
"I think not," the duke said quietly. "I feel a certain aversion to the idea of allowing another man to marry
my chosen bride. Miss Gray is my chosen bride."
Sir Peter Griffin could go hang, he thought. He was probably dangling after her fortune and this
impressive property, but he would never let her forget the impropriety of her arrival at Sindon, dressed
like a prize ladybird and with a male companion in tow. The man had looked severely displeased at his
very first sight of her and had done nothing to hide his irritation.
Though why he should press his point when there was such an easy solution to his dilemma, the Duke of
Bridgwater did not quite know.Miss Gray could marry the baronet, he could be on his way to town and
his family and the Season, and they would all live happily ever after. No, she would not live happily. He
could predict that with some certainty. And he would not have done the right thing.
He wished suddenly that he had not been brought up always to do the right thing, or that he had rebelled
against his boyhood education as he had rebelled during his childhood. Good Lord, he had just spent six
years being very careful indeed that nothing of the like would ever happen to him.
But he had walked into just such a situation like a lamb to the slaughter.
Mr. Watkins cleared his throat again, perhaps disconcerted by the silence that had stretched a little too
long for comfort.
"We will discuss the marriage contract," the duke said. "I wish it to stipulate quite clearly that Miss Gray
retain ownership of this property and of whatever fortune she has been left besides. I gather, sir, that her
choice of husband must be approved by you and by a relative. That would be Mr. Horace& Cavendish,
I presume? He is the lady's husband?"
"Yes, Your Grace," the solicitor said.
"We will have him down here, then," Bridgwater said briskly, "and have his approval. Then we will
proceed to business. I am expected inLondonand have no wish to delay. I take it I have your approval,
sir?" He raised his eyebrows and favored the poor solicitor with a look that had been part of his early
education and had stayed with him ever since, a look that brooked no denial and no insubordination. He
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did not even use his quizzing glass.
"Oh, y-yes, i-indeed," the solicitor said, visibly flustered. "It is a g-great honor, Y-your Grace. For Miss
Gray, I mean. And indeed f-for "
"Mr. Watkins," His Grace said, "Mr. Cavendish?"
The solicitor scurried to the door in order to summon a servant.
Lord, the duke thought. Amusement was fading fast. Indeed, it had faded to nothing long ago, he
realized. Lord, he was about to marry a governess.A governess-turned-heiress.A stranger.Someone for
whom he felt nothing.Nothing at all except a certain lust. And that now seemed embarrassingly
inappropriate. Good Lord, she was undoubtedly a virgin a twenty-six-year old virgin.A virtuous
woman whom he had been planning to take back toLondonwith him as his mistress.
Good Lord! He dropped the handle of his quizzing glass lest he inadvertently snap it in two.
Her cloak and her bonnet had been whisked away she fervently hoped that she need never see them
again, though she felt woefully her lack of belongings. She had been taken by Mrs. Cavendish, who had
requested rather stiffly that she be called Cousin Bertha, upstairs to her room. Actually, it was a whole
suite of rooms, quite overwhelming to someone who had made her home in a small attic room for the
past six years. She had been given time only to wash her hands and pat her hair into better shape after
the removal of her bonnet. Then she had been taken down to the drawing room for tea.
Mrs. Cavendish, Cousin Bertha, presented her properly to Mr. Cavendish, who explained that he was
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