“Yes,” the earl told her. “His sister is determined to wed him off to the daughter of a prestigious family–hopefully a royal one.”
Fable almost choked on the air she took in. It wasn’t that she thought she had any chance with the dispassionate duke, buthe’d been nice to her–and generous. She was grateful and felt the urge, as he did for her, to protect him. “So by next week, he could be betrothed to the king’s niece?”
“He could be–”
“Has he met her?” What if she was beautiful and elegant and everything he liked in a woman? Fable’s belly knotted. It worried her. Was she going to be sick again? Why? This time she hadn’t gorged on food.
“Yes, he’s met her. Twice, I believe.”
Fable held her breath. The niece of a king definitely wouldn’t want her husband to be friendly with a pauper. So what? There was no reason why she should feel sweaty, like she had when her fever broke. Was she still ill, or did talking about the duke make her feel bad? No, it wasn’t thoughts of him that made her feel bad, it was thoughts of him getting married, of losing his protection, his roof, and his food.
What does my understanding of it or not have to do with anything? If you’re in danger, I can protect you.
Who in her lifeeverpromised to protect her? And so unconditionally? There was no one. How could she not be attracted to such a man?
“Does he like her?” she asked the earl quietly.
“The duke has no interest in her.”
Relief swept through Fable and made her question her rationality. “But he’d marry her because his sister wants him to?” What did she care, really? She laughed at herself silently. She didn’t even know the duke. She certainly didn’t have a prestigious family.
“It’s what his father wanted,” the informative earl told her. “But, in the end, I don’t believe he’ll ever marry. As for his sister, she wants what she thinks will make him happy.”
“She’s wretched.”
“She loves him,” he defended.
“You know,” she said,trying to ignore the pain in her feet. “I’m no expert on it but I think if you love someone,you want what they want. Does he not have enough wealth to live a comfortable life until he’s old?”
“He has enough.”
“Will it be taken from him if he doesn’t do what his father wanted?”
“Not all of it and not enough for him to care.” The earl told her.
“I see. Then, Is he lacking in power? He’s a duke, that’s pretty powerful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Is he always so serious and melancholy because he’s lonely and wants a wife?”
His responses had grown quieter with each one. Now, he practically whispered, as if he knew where her questions were leading and he couldn’t do much but answer truthfully. “No.”
“Then, when it really comes down to it, the duke’s marriage and who becomes his wife is for Lady Prudence’s benefit, and not her brother’s.”
His smile slowly widened on her, but he didn’t say anything.
“Has anyone even asked him what would make him happy?” she demanded, then cleared her throat and smiled repentantly.
“Three years ago, while saving the king’s life from a Jacobite attack, Colchester almost lost his arm.” Lord Sudbury sighed and stretched out his long legs in his chair. “The thing that will make him happy is to return to the battlefield. He practices every day in the hopes of returning.”
The battlefield? Fable thought, suddenly feeling even more anxious about the duke leaving. She needed him…andthere was something more…something that made her heart feel too heavy to beat, that made her very curious and a little jealous.
“Don’t worry,” the handsome earl reassured her as if reading her thoughts. “King George won’t let him fight.”
“Then his hopes are for nothing.”
The earl stared at her for a moment, and then with his smile fading, he nodded. “You’re correct.”
