“Ah, yes,” he spoke as though he’d forgotten why he’d called her there. “Both are doing splendidly, as a matter of fact. Lord Dewberry is showing an interest in your sister.”
“The duke has a son?” Goldie had met the Duke of Dewberry on a few occasions but didn’t remember ever hearing about any offspring. And although Dewberry was only slightly younger than her father, his skin was dry and powdered to hide ever-present scabs, and his eyebrows had grown together into one long line over small, cloudy eyes.
“He’s without progeny,” her father informed her. “In fact, he’s in need of an heir. Your mother believes Nia can expect an offer from him in the near future. Your sister will be a duchess, Marigold.”
“But…” Goldie was horrified. “He’s so old!” Poor Nia! Marrying Dewberry seemed a worse prospect than marrying Lord Rupert would have been. Nia was young and bright and positively lovely.
Lord Dewberry… was not.
“He is a duke.” Her father gave the stare he used to keep his wife and daughters from arguing with him. It was dark and cold, and promised swift retribution if the person on the receiving end posed any further argument. Goldie’s stomach clenched.
“Oh.” Poor, poor, Nia!
“And,” her father said, “With Dewberry on the line, she and your mother have decided to remain in Bath indefinitely.”
Indefinitely? But they were meant to return to Mayfair any day.
It took Goldie a moment before she comprehended the ramifications of this new information. “You mean until the Season begins?” That would mean delaying Goldie’s come-out.
“I said indefinitely, and that is what I meant. In fact, I’m going to send you there to join them. Without your mother and sister here, you have no business in London.”
“But my come-out—”
“Was never a good idea.” Her father finally looked at her fully. “Come now. You know as well as I that you’re not fit for marriage. You’re far too opinionated.” With the subject dismissed, he glanced down at his fob watch. “There is plenty of daylight for you to begin your journey to Bath today. Be a good girl and pack your belongings at once. I’ve already ordered Coachman John to ready the carriage. He’ll be waiting for you in half an hour.”
“But—” Goldie faltered, stunned.
This couldn’t be happening!
“I’ve no companion.”
“You’ll do well enough. It’s not as though you haven’t been galivanting around Mayfair on your own these past few weeks.” So he had known. And he hadn’t really cared.
He simply wanted to be rid of her.
“But I’ll have to stay in an inn by myself—"
“Trust me, a gel like you has nothing to worry about. Lock yourself in your chamber when you get there, and don’t come out until morning.” When she didn’t move, he pinned her with that glare again. “You’re dismissed, Daughter.”
Her father had just rearranged her entire life in less than five minutes. No come-out? No husband? No family?
“You will be faced with a test. A test of courage. A test of faith. Your happiness depends on passing it.”
Despite her father’s dismissal, Goldie sat frozen.
She’d made the wrong decision! The duke had returned to reading his paper, and as Goldie stared at him, her heart turned cold.
Yes, he was her father. But to him, she wasn’t really a daughter. She was a nuisance, an irritating responsibility.
Recollections from this morning’s meeting with Reed slammed into her.
She’d made the wrong decision!
And on the heels of that realization, she began plotting a plan to remedy her situation.
If it wasn’t already too late.
She went to rise, and a footman drew her chair backward.
