“Best not to dawdle.” Her mother brushed at Lila’s sleeves and then tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “They await you downstairs.”
Feeling as though her limbs had suddenly gone numb, Lila nodded again.
She had no idea what she was walking into.If you are there, God, please let him be a decent man. He doesn’t need to be smart, or an appropriate age, or handsome even.She cared not one fig if he was charming and affable. All she could hope for was that he would be kind.
What was the chance of that?
Fear sent ice coursing through her veins as she followed her mother downstairs. Perhaps it would be best if he took one look at her and changed his mind.
Because as horrible as her present circumstances were, better the devil you know than the one that you don’t.
She caught sight of herself in a large mirror in the foyer.
The gown was delightfully wrinkled. And the bright green yarn of the shawl made her skin appear almost yellow.
Stunning.
* * *
Vincent Saint-Pierre,the Duke of Pemberth, would rather be anywhere but Lord Quimbly’s library that morning.
Since his older brother Keenan’s untimely death three months ago, Vincent’s life had been irrevocably altered.Death.His heart curdled inside at the word.Suicide. He would not ignore the truth.
After driving the dukedom deeply into debt and then gambling away anything left of value, Keenan had not even had the decency to remain on this earth to face the consequences of his actions.
No, he’d left that for Vincent.
A penniless dukedom, a broken-down estate, and now this.
The promise to marry Quimbly’s daughter sight unseen.
His brother’s vowels had not died with him. No, they, too, had been bequeathed to Vincent.
He’d like to hate his brother for it, if only he hadn’t loved the benighted fool.
A noise at the door had him turning in some curiosity. The older woman, he presumed to be the countess. She was followed by a timid-looking creature wearing a color that offended his eyes. Good God.
Beneath the hideous garments appeared to be a shapeless form, part of the hem dragging behind her as she shuffled into the room, head ducked meekly.
He barely contained a groan.
But of course, his brother had saddled him with an antidote. Not that it mattered, he supposed. He’d likely be too busy working his own land to seek any satisfaction with her.
Although he’d require an heir.
Vincent made no comment, choosing instead to bow toward the countess.
Lord Quimbly wasn’t so considerate. “Good God, Lila. It isn’t going to work. Step over here, this instant.”
It was her—his betrothed—Lady Lila. The name hinted at a feminine beauty he’d not seen so far.
She hesitated only an instant before doing as the earl bid.
Before she made it halfway across the room, however, her father had stepped forward to tug at the shawl before then tearing it off of her shoulders. She nearly lost her balance at the violence of his gesture.
“Now, here.” Vincent stepped forward. “That’s not necessary.”
“I know my daughter, Pemberth. She’s doing this on purpose.” And with his other hand, his fingers delved into the back of her head. The girl covered her face with her hands while Quimbly,her father, dragged out a few pins, releasing the twisted mane to tumble down her back to just past her waist.
