He ignored Cassian, which Verity pondered. Maybe he didn’t care for this match either. So that confused her. A duke, especially so young, was a fine catch. The debutants this season were rabid for the titles and blue blood, including her two brothers.
So how did Cassian convince the duke to take me without our ever meeting? And why would he decide on such a union without my knowledge, let alone my approval? Has he gone mad?
The moment the door closed, she crossed her arms. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I think it’s not relevant.” Then her brother had the gall to turn away.
Verity huffed. “Cassian! You cannot get rid of me. A marriage cannot take place without the consent of both parties. What does this mean?”
But he was practically running now to escape her, and she had already spent her morning at the bookshop and she was tired. Clearly, she wasn’t going to get a word out of him. So what else could she do? Go after the duke?
She smirked and hastened back to the door.
Sunshine nearly blinded her. Verity hastened down the steps and past the gate. Pushing it free, she quickly spotted the duke who was nearly to a carriage that was slowly working its way toward him.
“Wait!” Verity called.
The tall duke stiffened, and turned. His baraouche rolled up beside him before she arrived. His lingering gave her an ounce of hope.
“My lady,” Wycliffe said with a nod when she reached him.
Gasping for breath, she fanned herself. “So you knew he wanted to match us. What did you say?”
“I agreed to the match. I need a wife and you need a husband.”
That tells me nothing. Why is it that men can speak so much about pointless matters and then are locked vaults with the information I actually need? It makes me want to yank out his hair. Or do something with it.
She pulled her thoughts together. “Why would you agree if you didn’t know me? How could you know if we would suit?”
“A marriage doesn’t always require two people to suit.”
It was a frustrating exchange. “Fine. Perhaps it doesn’t. But it requires more than two random parties deciding to bind themselves to each other for the rest of their natural lives. If suiting one another doesn’t matter in this match for you, what does?”
His chin lifted. “Simply that I need a wife.”
“But you didn’t marry your housekeeper so you aren’t that desperate.”
“My housekeeper is married to my stablemaster so it would hardly be appropriate.”
“Then you won’t tell me why you picked me?”
He mulled over his words. “Is it so wrong to be chosen?” He asked at last.
So many riddles. Negotiations, too. It annoyed Verity. He had limited expressions. Those eyes of his though were telling her something. What, she couldn’t understand.
“Can you answer a question practically? Without another question?” She asked in frustration.
“I’m a practical gentleman.”
“Then give me reason to agree to this match as well. Tell me what happened in that drawing room,” she added.
His eyes trailed over her face for a minute, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. She was about to give up when he finally spoke.
“Are you attending the Hampstead ball tomorrow?”
“Of course I am.” It was the best place to gather gossip. She was behind on her writing and that couldn’t be allowed to happen again. Then she raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
“I shall join you there immediately after the receiving line so we might have a more appropriate opportunity for conversation.” He eyed the street for emphasis before focusing back on her. “This is about necessity, my lady. As I said, I’m a practical fellow. This is not meant for a romantic engagement. I would have no expectations for you.”
