Miss Morgan raised one eyebrow. “Oh, I know how he is. Always extremely careful in public, but in private?” Miss Morgan smiled, and her eyes glazed over, as if she were reliving averypleasant memory. “I am probably an awful human being for admitting this, and I shouldn’t, for my own reputation’s sake, but I do envy you.”
Mercy was at a loss for words. In the course of two days, she had heard from the duke, and now this young woman, about his supposed escapades. True, she hadn’t known the duke very long, but it was starting to seem like she didn’t know him at all. “I’m sorry, but when did this happen?”
Miss Morgan glanced out the window. “Off and on for the past two years. But I see now what he was doing. I thought the secrecy was exciting, and I, well, I fell for his plan. I’m still not even sure I mind. I should have known the duke would never take someone in my position seriously. What do I have? A large dowry, for certain, and the Duke of Pemramble as a cousin.” She looked up at Mercy as if to see whether she knew of the duke. Vaguely, she did. But it wasn’t until recently that dukes had become a more common feature in her life. “I will also possibly gain a Scottish title someday, but still, compared to you? A lady? Of course, he would feel obligated, no matter his feelings toward me, to marry better than what my family can give him. It wassuch a disappointment to Mama.”
Why was Miss Morgan telling her all of this? She barely knew the woman.
“I know what you must be thinking. Why are we here? Why did we come, when we are only the slightest of acquaintances? I will tell you. Mama was hoping to dissuade you. Then, perhaps, he would look at me again, like he used to. Like he hasn’t allowed himself to do. But I know better, and I only wanted to let you know that—well... you aren’t the only woman he has pulled into dark corners...” She let her voice peter out. “And perhaps you are all right with that, but on the chance that you weren’t, well, I wish I would have known sooner. I was so certain of his love for me.” Her voice broke, and she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbing at her eyes.
Mercy sat dumbfounded, absently listening to a carriage that rolled down the street in front of their home, the cobblestones clinking as the horses’ hooves marched forward. The Duke of Harrington hadneverpulled her into a dark corner. He’dnevershown Mercy the type of passion Miss Morgan was speaking of. She knew Miss Morgan expected her to be angry, or perhaps indifferent, depending on the depth of her relationship with the duke. But she felt neither of those things.
She was extremely confused. And, perhaps, even a bit disappointed.
Which was ridiculous. If the man didn’t want to pull her away from a crowd and kiss her senseless, then she didn’t want him to do it.
“He wanted—” Mercy’s voice came out a bit gravely, so she cleared her throat. “You mentioned he wanted to keep you a secret?”
Miss Morgan stopped dabbing her eyes and opened them in complete shock. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know he had to give me up. No matter his feelings for me, it was necessary. He isa duke, after all, and a duke wouldn’t marry a mere miss. It was foolish of me to even think.” She shook her head. “I thought you should know, before you marry him. That’s all.”
“He is only courting me. We aren’t engaged.”
“But he has never courted anyone before, no matter howinterestedin them he was. You are perfect for him, so of course you will marry.”
Mercy straightened her spine. There was always a recurring theme in her conversations about the duke. Surely Mercywantedto marry him. He was a duke. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Miss Morgan waved her hand to the side of her face. “It really doesn’t matter whether it is you or some other lady. He won’t let his heart make his decisions for him—not any long-lasting decisions, anyway.” Mercy clenched her jaw. Miss Morgan knew the duke very well indeed. Miss Morgan tucked her handkerchief back into her sleeve, blinked a few times, and pasted an obviously fake smile on her face. “I should probably return to Mama. She hates when I spend too much time by myself.”
They rejoined the two sitting at the tea table, and Mercy sipped her lukewarm tea. A few minutes later, Mama sent her regrets to Mrs. and Miss Morgan, stating that she still had not recovered from the ball.
Miss Morgan’s initial shyness wore off, and by the end of their conversation, she had turned into a lively young woman. One the Duke of Harrington would have certainly enjoyed kissing.
After they left, Mercy turned to Penelope. “Well, we can add one more name to the Duke of Harrington’s list.”
“Miss Morgan?” Penelope’s eyebrows rose.
“Apparently he was quite taken with her a few months ago.”
“Exactly how taken?”
“Quite,” was all Mercy said.
Penelope eyed the window where the Morgan carriage waswaiting for its passengers. “I’m starting to wonder if, perhaps, there is more to this duke than he has led you to believe.”
“As am I, and I don’t know how I feel about it.”
Penelope whipped her head back around. “What do you mean by that?”
“He is handsome, wealthy, personable, bad at chess—all things I admire. My one complaint of him is that he has no passion. And now, suddenly—”
“Mercy.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you are jealous of that sad, quiet woman.”
Mercy leaned forward until she was only inches away from Penelope’s face. “What is so wrong with me? Am I not attractive? He has never once tried to get me alone or take advantage of me.”
Penelope pushed her lips tightly together, but her wide, sparking eyes betrayed the fact that she was about to laugh.
