“That this is a marriage of convenience only,” he said. “You have a purpose, as you made clear, and I expect you to keep it. All that is to say,” He made sure to look right at her. “Do not try to turn this marriage into something it is not.”
“What does that mean?” Rose challenged.
“I believe you are smart enough to work that out for yourself.” His green eyes worked her over, assessing her as if to decide whether she understood or whether he needed to be more straightforward.
And then, without another word spoken, the Duke turned to leave, [insert butler’s name] held the door as the Duke strode outside. He did not once look back.
Rose watched him go as she struggled to come to terms with what the Duke had just said, and how she felt about it.
His words should have brought relief. Isn’t that exactly what she wanted to hear? A marriage of convenience, no romance or companionship, no chance that the Duke wanted it to turn into something more.
My life will still be my own; that is what matters. And the Duke and I, it will hardly be as if we are even married. This is good. This is a good thing.
The words sounded true but rang as hollow; swallowed whole by the dark, bottomless pit opening in her stomach.
Down the driveway, the Duke climbed atop his horse, his thighs squeezing his mount, his back straight, his chest proud, and his dark hair, wavy and billowing in the wind as the sun warmed his handsome face. Rose watched him closely, no longer as breathless and trembling as she had been the first time she’d seen him.
He might have been handsome. He might have been dreamy. But he was cold, dispassionate, and from what Rose had seen, there was very little to like about the man she would soon call husband. Very little indeed.
She had done it for the right reasons, because Marianne’s future was what mattered most. While Rose knew this, while she told herself this again and again, the pit in her stomach continued to grow at an alarming rate.
What have I done?
CHAPTER SIX
“You will have to do better than that!” Theodore Merrick, the Duke of Carrowell cheered as he kicked his feet into the side of his horse with gusto. The great gelding raced at full pelt across the golden meadow. “I was promised a challenge.”
“Easy to win when you cheat!” Riding in behind him was Alistair Locke, the Duke of Pembourne. And he wore a most rueful expression. “And do not dare say otherwise!”
“Cheat? Me?” Theodore laughed gaily as he slowed his horse and turned it back. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Christopher!” Alistair looked over his shoulder. “You saw it! Tell him that he cheated. I cannot bear another second of the man’s gloating.”
Christopher Kingswell, the Duke of Thornwall, would often be on Alistair’s side, all too happy to confirm that Theodore hadindeed cheated. Christopher was a particular man, and he liked things to work as they should. Oddities annoyed him.
Indeed, when the three men had lined their horses at the edge of the meadow, readying their mounts to sprint as if their lives depended on it, there could be no doubt that Theordore took off early.
Seeing as it was Theodore, it was almost expected.
Theodore was undoubtedly the liveliest of the three. The charmer. The maverick who had that knack for finding humor in the morose and the joy in even the most boring of situations. Tall, messy blonde hair, sharp features, and a jawline like an anvil, he knew what he was and how he was perceived, and he loved that about himself.
Alistair was the complete opposite. He was far stricter and more rigid, infinitely more serious, and rarely let so much as a chuckle escape his lips. He was broad-shouldered and stocky, more muscle than fat, but his balding head was a point of concern, and he hated how he was so often looked down on… literally, as he was rather short compared to his friends.
“Well?” Alistair demanded as he pulled his horse to a steady halt only a few feet away. “Theodore cheated. Worse, he knows that he did. Tell him.”
“If there is one thing I hate, it is a bad loser,” Theodore chuckled. He sat proudly on his horse as he leaned back and let the wind whip through his hair. “And you, Alistair, are certainly that.”
“And you are a cheater.”
“Shall we go again?” Theodore nodded across the open meadow. It was just the three of them, nothing but empty stretches of golden meadows for as far as the eye could see. “Perhaps the question should be, can your ego handle losing twice?”
“I did not lose!”
“You did,” Theodore said with a righteous nod. “But take some comfort in knowing that you at least beat Christopher.” He snorted at Christopher, who was sitting silently on his horse, hardly paying the two men attention. “The way he is riding today, I might not brag about that to too many people.”
“Best two of three. Unless you are scared?”
Theodore shrugged as if bored. “I had no idea you had such a passion for humiliation, Alistair. What do you say, Christopher? Best two of three?”
