“Perhaps,” she murmured. “But not all of us are meant for great loves.”
Before Fanny could protest, she added, “My greater concern is Father’s absence.”
Fanny’s expression darkened. “Mother pretends to be unaffected, but we all worry.”
“There must be a good reason he left so abruptly.”
“Perhaps… perhaps he didn’t love us enough to stay,” Fanny whispered.
“Don’t say that!” Blanche grasped her hands beneath a sycamore’s shade. “Father loves us. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“Then why hasn’t he returned? The Bow Street Runners have done nothing?—”
“Once I become a duchess, I’ll hire investigators,” Blanche vowed.
“This match is heaven-sent, though I hate you sacrificing yourself.”
“Don’t fret. Truly, I’m content.” Blanche forced a smile. “Certainly, better than a wedding to Lord Bromley!”
“God spare us that vain peacock!” Fanny giggled.
“He only loves his reflection,” Blanche agreed, laughing.
Her sister nudged Blanche playfully. “Well, at least your actual betrothed isn’t that hopeless.”
Fanny tilted her head, still smiling. “About the Duke… You may not see it, but he’s fortunate to have you. Any clever man would realize.”
Blanche blinked, her smile faltering.
Fanny teased, “I’d advise you to give up the scandalous books and?—”
“Scandalous books?” interjected a deep, familiar voice.
Both sisters whirled, startled. Mere feet away stood the Duke of Woodrey, his smirk confirming he had overheard at least part of their conversation.
Blanche’s composure faltered for the briefest of moments, but she masked it swiftly. “Your Grace, eavesdropping is most ungentlemanly.”
“Merely unavoidable as I approached,” the Duke said. “Though I shall endeavor to forget anything overheard.”
Fanny’s light laughter softened the moment, her gaze warm with quiet amusement. “Your Grace, you do possess a remarkable memory. I doubt very much that anything escapes your notice.”
Heath inclined his head, his gaze flickering knowingly toward Blanche. “A fair assessment, Lady Fanny.”
Blanche narrowed her gaze slightly, refusing to let his easy confidence rattle her. “May I inquire as to your purpose in the park this afternoon, Your Grace?”
“You may,” the Duke returned, ever evasive. “Though I suspect the answer would fail to satisfy your curiosity.”
Before Blanche could reply, an excitable flurry of movement drew their attention.
“Ah, Your Grace!” Lady Gooldwer called, bustling toward them with enthusiasm, her pugs yipping at her feet. “What a delightful surprise! Do forgive us for failing to offer a proper welcome sooner.”
Blanche fought back a sigh. Her mother’s exaggerated delight was bound to draw attention—exactly as intended. Lady Gooldwer had kept silent about the engagement per Heath’s request, but if they were all seen together, speculation was inevitable.
Lady Gooldwer smiled warmly at Heath, eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. “What a charming coincidence that we should find ourselves enjoying this very same afternoon in the park, Your Grace.”
“Charming indeed,” Heath replied, ever unreadable.
“And how very gallant of you to grace us with your company!” Lady Gooldwer continued, ignoring Blanche’s warning glance. “You must promise to join us for tea later. Oh, what a lovely affair it shall be!”
