“Your sister?”
“That goes without saying.” Westerley smoothed his palm over the dash. “But also with my baby.”
Chapter 3
The “Man of Her Dreams”
Idid it!Father would be so proud of me!
Tabetha stared out the window at the scenery sliding by, still shocked that she’d secured an offer from a duke. Reaching the outskirts of London had taken forever. Even now, she half-expected her brother or Stone Spencer to come riding up behind them, demanding that they stop.
I would just die!
Her betrothed, the Duke of Culpepper, was seated on the opposite bench, the forward-facing one. Before she had been able to claim the seat beside him, the strangest-looking cat she’d ever seen had beaten her to it. And then the territorial animal had crouched and lowered its head to hiss at her. The feline was completely hairless and although she adored cats, and cats normally adored her, this one was more than a little terrifying.
That being the case, she’d taken the backward-facing seat, and, lucky for the three of them, riding backward didn’t bother her. It would have been too embarrassing to have to force the caravan to stop so that she could empty the contents of her stomach on the side of the road.
Not that she’d eaten much since she’d agreed to Culpepper’s plan, not even twenty-four hours before, at the Averleys’ ball.
Dancing with Culpepper, who was now her betrothed, had been a dream. As he’d led her onto the floor, she’d felt jealous stares from every lady in the room—particularly, Miss Rachel Somerset, who’d been setting traps for bachelors left and right all spring.
Of course, the duke was an excellent dancer, and each time she was handed to him again, he’d offered her a new compliment.
He’d procured a plate for both of them, and she hadn’t minded at all that he’d not known her favorites. He would know them soon enough. As they sat across from one another at a cozy table in the supper-room, he’d occasionally met her gaze meaningfully. Even now, she enjoyed the thrill she’d felt in those moments.
When the other guests began drifting back into the ballroom, he had asked her to walk outside in the garden. Exactly as she’d hoped.
“I’d like that very much,” she’d answered.
It was meant to be.
Because fate had stepped in, and Stone Spencer had been nowhere in sight!
Free from Mr. Spencer’s stifling presence, Tabetha had allowed the duke to guide her outside onto the terrace, and then along a shadowed path.
“Are you enjoying the Season, My Lady?”
“Immensely.” She’d glanced sideways at him and batted her lashes before dropping her gaze in a coy manner. “And you, Your Grace?”
“How could I not, when I’ve had the benefit of making your acquaintance?” They conversed thusly until they’d arrived at un unlit section of the garden, where he’d drawn her off the path and then taken her into his arms.
This was the moment she’d waited for all her life. She’d been certain he’d been going to ask permission to meet with Westerley and ask for her hand.
“If we leave for Gretna tomorrow morning, we could be married and back in London in less than ten days.”
“I—pardon me?” She could not have heard him properly.
When he’d repeated himself at her request, she’d thought he was joking.
But he had not been.
Tabetha shivered and snuck a quick glance across the carriage.
She inspected his profile as he stared out the opposite window. It was a magnificent profile, indeed. He was so very aristocratic in every way.
His proposal had not been romantic, nor had it been properly done. He should have dropped onto one knee and asked her to make him the happiest of men. He should have gazed up at her adoringly when he’d posed the question, and of course, he should have spoken with Westerley first.
But he was aduke. She would become aduchess!
