Page 111 of How Not to Marry a Duke

The family butler opened the door and nodded in greeting. “Lady Adeline. Hasmik.” He opened the door wide, and they stepped inside the vestibule. “Please follow me to the drawing room, and I shall summon Lady Mary,” the servant said.

“Who has arrived, Hawkins?”

At the sound of the lilting female voice, Adeline looked up the grand staircase to see Mary standing at the landing. Adeline’s lips tugged in a smile.

“Adeline!”

Mary flew down the stairs and into Adeline’s open arms. She hugged her sister, and her heart burst in her chest as she inhaled Mary’s familiar rose perfume.

Mary’s fair hair curled around her shoulders and down her back, her eyes wide. “Edwin told me everything! I am not happy with you, Adeline.”

Adeline sighed. “Please do not make this more difficult. I have made my choice.”

Mary’s lips thinned. “What about Warwick? Has the duke not proposed? I was sure he would by now.”

At the mention of the duke, her throat welled, and she choked on a sob. She was ashamed of her reaction. She should have more control by now.

“Oh, forgive me.” Mary’s brows drew downward, and she took Adeline’s hand and led her into the drawing room. She motioned for her to sit on a settee and settled beside her. Mary pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her skirt pocket and handed it to Adeline. “He’s broken your heart, hasn’t he?”

Adeline wiped her eyes. “It’s not how you think.”

“Regardless. I think I should’ve been a better sister.”

Adeline lowered the handkerchief. “No! You are a wonderful sister. You have always been one. I don’t deserve you.”

“Do not be ridiculous. You have always been there for me, Adeline. I’m the older one.”

“By only a few months.”

“No need to remind us.”

Adeline laughed. She blew her nose. Only Mary could jest about the fact that the sisters were less than a year apart from two different mothers. “Edwin would never joke about it.”

“Edwin is not here.”

“Is he to arrive?” Adeline didn’t look forward to seeing him, but they had business to attend to—her betrothal.

“Soon. I’m not pleased with him either.”

“Mary, I’ve made up my mind about marrying Mr. Slade.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? I don’t need you to rescue me.”

“I’m rescuing myself.”

“How so?”

“You were right about the duke, but not as you think. Warwick proposed. But not for the right reasons. He never professed his love. He claims I am a logical choice.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“I know that as long as we were young girls, you sought to find love and marry. To be happy. Like our father and your mother.”

“You understand then.”

Mary bit her bottom lip. “Maybe a man like the Duke of Warwick considers love the same emotion as a logical choice.”