The duke frowned. “Then why are you so eager to accept his suit?”
Rosalie strove to keep her voice light. “It’s a good match. Lord Valentine is of appropriate rank, and his reputation is unimpeachable.”
He studied her for a beat. “Both important points, to be sure. But they are not enough. A marriage should also involve, at a minimum, affection. Unless I am misjudging your expression very badly indeed, there is no affection, at least on your part. I would therefore recommend that you refuse Lord Valentine. There is no need to rush into anything.”
Rosalie laughed incredulously. “Try telling that to Mother.”
The corners of her father’s mouth tightened. “I will handle your mother. Marriage is for a lifetime. It is a decision you must consider very carefully.”
She stiffened her spine and summoned her resolve. “I have considered it, Papa. And I do want this match.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I think it is the best offer I am likely to receive.”
“Not at all. It’s not as if Lord Valentine is the first man to ask for your hand.” Her father waved a hand. “What was the name of that other fellow?”
“Do you mean Lord Wallington?” Lord Wallington was a wealthy earl who had proposed at the end of her first season. He was eighty-seven years old and almost entirely deaf. Rosalie assumed that was the reason he had not seemed to grasp how unsuitable the rest of thetonfound her.
Her father gave her a baleful look. “Of course, I don’t mean Lord Wallington. The chap I’m thinking of was young and handsome.”
Rosalie gave a humorless laugh. “Surely you’re not thinking of Bradford FitzSimon?” Indeed, Bradford was young and handsome. Unfortunately, he was also a complete and utter cad,and his proposal had come quickly on the heels of a twelve-thousand-pound loss at the gaming tables, suggesting that it was Rosalie’s thirty-thousand-pound dowry, rather than her person, that he found appealing.
The duke huffed. “Bradford FitzSimon—I should say not! This fellow was hopelessly in love with you.”
Hopelessly in love with her? No one had ever been hopelessly in love with her.
Once, for a fleeting moment, she had thought…
No.No! What was she doing, thinking of him twice in the space of five minutes, when she had vowed never to think of him again?No onehad ever been hopelessly in love with her. Full stop.
“I believe you are a trifle confused, Papa. Lord Valentine’s offer is by far the best one I have ever received. I wish to accept him. Very much.”
Her father looked unconvinced. “If you are accepting him in order to assuage your mother, I beg you to allow me to have a word with her. I was unaware that her comments were troubling you to this extent. If they truly bother you, I will make it clear that she is never to broach the topic again.”
Rosalie sighed. She was not accepting Lysander precisely to get her mother to stop nagging her, although it would be a welcome consequence. No, if Rosalie was being honest, the reason she wanted to accept Lysander’s suit was that after six years on the Marriage Mart, she was tired. Tired of attending the same balls and routs. Tired of laughing at jests she’d heard a hundred times. Tired of feigning interest in Lord Prickett’s gout, or Lady Helen’s new bonnet, or who Lieutenant Halliday had been seen walking in the park with that afternoon.
But most of all, Rosalie was tired of the whispers. The ones that she always heard, for all that they were ostensibly made behind her back.
Six years on the Marriage Mart, and Lady Rosalie still hasn’t learned how to keep her mouth shut.
What man would want such a brazen shrew for his wife?
No man wants a wife who is more intelligent than he.
Thirty thousand pounds and the daughter of a duke, and still, no man will have her!
The only thing worse than a lifetime of being married to a man she did not love was a lifetime of being the biggest laughingstock in London.
“It’s not that,” Rosalie said. “I do want this marriage, Papa. If I marry Lord Valentine, I will always have a place.”
“You will always have a place in this household,” he said in his ducal voice, the one that brooked no argument. When she started to object, he raised a hand. “And do not give me any nonsense about how I will not always be around. Firstly, Robin would never turn you out.Never. Point the second, I have it all arranged. Whenever I shuffle off this mortal coil, you will have your own inheritance—property, money… I even specified that you are to receive your favorite horse.” He thumped his fist on the desk for emphasis. “You will be a wealthy, independent heiress. Not someone’s poor relation. So, you see, there is no need to marry a man you do not love.”
Rosalie’s voice was tremulous. “This is my sixth season, Papa. Most people consider me to be on the shelf. This is a good opportunity for me to marry and have a family. I do want that.”
The duke frowned. “But you do not love him.”
“I don’t,” she said helplessly.
When he spoke, her father’s booming voice was eerily quiet. “You cannot blame a father for wanting better for his Rosie-Roo.”
Hearing the childhood nickname on his lips broke something within her, and the words came pouring out. “It’s more than that, Papa. Everyone says I’m strident. That I’m overlyopinionated. They call me a shrew. Don’t you see? If I marry Lord Valentine, I will no longer be a laughingstock.”
