She’d shared the prophecy of their marriage—and her death—with him.
Been called mad. Proposed marriage to him, despite that. Then been cruelly mocked for it.
She’d been insulted.
Rejected—twice.
She’d urged Gregory not to marry Emmy, the lovely, warm-hearted woman he actually wanted for his wife, and to marry her instead.
Then, in order to get him to do so, Daria suggestedshecould arrange an alliance between Gregory and the Duke of Craven.
With her family—exception being, Delia—none the wiser, she’d sneaked off.
She’d secretly married London’s most outrageous rake. In a ceremony officiated by a certainly inebriated rogue.
But this would be the most difficult part.
She had to tell Clayton.
An unbearable bridge she’d built and now must cross.
Daria could not bring herself to move.
“Is the plan to wait until St. John heads out for the evening and discovers us seated outside his residence?”
Then there was her irreverent husband, who found every moment of life deserving of a quick quip or sardonic laugh.
Daria considered him. “Are you always this cavalier?”
“Life is not meant to be taken seriously, Daria.”
Please let that be a joke. She had the devil of a time sorting out the variety in people’s views on what constituted a jest. Her stomach sank. “You actually mean that?”
“I’m being deadly serious.” A crooked smile touched his lips. “See what I did there?”
“Sadly, yes.” What an exhausting way to go through life. She’d already tired of his flippancy.
Her heart settled into an unsteady rhythm. “Is there anything in life you are not flippant about?” Please, let the answer be—
“Life is not meant to be taken seriously, Daria.”
Not that. Please do not let that truly be his answer.
She allowed several beats of silence.
She had thought him flippant, but this…was far worse. She would spend the remainder of her limited years tethered to man who met gravity with apathy.
“Is this about your fear you’ve upset your brother?” Gregory didn’t give her a chance to answer, which was fine as Daria wasn’t even sure she could. “I know that was your intention, my dear, but be assured. No man in his right head would find upset in being connected through marriage to a duke. At that, you’ve secured the title of duchess.”
Gregory had all the answers. Or hethoughthe did. How much else did that go for where he was concerned?
Gregory scrubbed a hand down the side of his neck. “As such, I fail to see the source of your fear.”
“You would.”
He narrowed his eyes.
When she’d been but nine and, in the schoolroom, she and her sisters received a stern lecture from their sharp-mouthed instructor. While her sisters quaked at the older woman’s menacing tones, Daria laughed, and loudly at that. She hadn’t been able to help contain the great big gasps. Nor, afterwards, could she explain why, when gripped with fear, she’d done so.
