“You’ve probably been an absolute muttonhead,” she continued.
He glared at her. “Dukes aren’t muttonheads.”
“Perhaps notalldukes,” she said meaningfully.
Sisters were the worst.
“It’s all right not to be perfect,” she said.
“It’s literally my duty to be as perfect as possible.”
“And it’s all right toadmitwhen you haven’t been perfect. Not to me,” she added quickly. “To the person who most needs to hear it.”
“What good would it do?”
“It would show her who you are,” Belle said softly. “Isn’t that who you really wanted her to accept?”
A marriage was between husband and wife, Cynthia had said.
Not duke and duchess.
Those were the posts they would hold, not the people they were inside.
“Follow your heart,” Belle said. “Not the ‘rules.’”
“Society—” he began.
“—will not be standing at the altar,” Belle finished.
He sighed. “Our mother—”
“—is also not the one choosing a bride.” Belle touched his arm. “Youare. Who you marry is up to you.”
Except it wasn’t.
He had asked.
Cynthia said no.
Alexander glared at the merry revelers in his ballroom.
He’d had enough of the party. Making it through tonight’s dancing would be trial enough. He couldn’t stand another minute of joyful festivities.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he murmured to his sister.
He managed to take three entire strides out of the ballroom before he ran into the next person likely to be brimming with unsolicited advice on how best to live his life.
“Mother,” he said politely.
“Where are you going? The party is in there,” she hissed. “You haven’t an assignation with that Finch creature, do you?”
“She has a name,” he replied coolly. “You’re to call her ‘Miss Finch’ unless she gives you leave to do otherwise.”
“Oh, for the love of...” The duchess pinched her lips. “Begladshe refused you. Can you imagine what a lifetime of marriage to her would be like?”
“I’ve been imagining it without cease for the past three days,” he replied. “I think I have a fairly clear idea.”
“Good,” his mother snapped, though her brow was furrowed. “You were raised to do the right thing, Vale.”
