Page 11 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

“Lady Marwich!” Temperance chided, hiding a smile.

“Things would have been markedly different if the older man had been alive, that’s for sure.” Lady Marwich fixed Jessamine with a stern look. “And you would not have the good fortune of shortly becoming a duchess.”

Jessamine grimaced. “I hardly had much choice in the matter.”

“It’s an excellent solution to a rather ugly problem. This allows you to care for William just as Rebecca would like.”

“And,” Temperance added, “he’s handsome.”

Jessamine scoffed before she could help herself. “As though that is of any importance. But how did you meet him?”

“He came by the Minerva House the other day to ask after Rebecca and her son,” Temperance said. “How he discovered she attended is beyond me! But I suppose some secrets slip through the net. He has a great deal of influence to throw around.”

“It’s odd, really,” Jessamine said contemplatively. “Rebecca and I spoke about our childhoods, but although she said she and her cousin were close as children, they were less so as they grew older.”

“That’s the way of many children,” Lady Marwich said knowingly. “Particularly when ladies marry and establish their own households, and young men are left free to do as they choose. Of course, the duke was hardly free to do as he chose, sold into the army as he was. And at such a young age.” She tutted. “A bad business, that. A younger son, I suppose, has less need for an education, but to deliver him into the less-than-loving hands of the army when he is still but a boy. That is not the act of a loving father.”

“Presumably,” Temperance said, “his father never expected him to inherit.”

“One must never rely on the constitution or general good luck of one’s eldest son.” Lady Marwich clacked her cane against the floor. “That’s a recipe for disaster. And shows lamentable lack of foresight.”

“So now I’m trapped with a man who has no experience running an estate or being a duke?” Jessamine demanded.

Lady Marwich waved a dismissive hand. “And you will be new to being a duchess. Do you expect him to snarl and complain about it? We must all deal with the hand we’ve been given. And, where possible, ask God to shuffle better cards.”

Jessamine and Temperance laughed, and Jessamine felt her spirits lift a little. No matter what she endured, she would always have her friends with her to catch her before she fell too far. And while Lady Marwich could occasionally be gruff, she was always kind, and having seen so much of the world, it was impossible not to be guided by her.

“Thank you both for coming,” she said, but before she could continue, there was a knock at the door.

The butler entered, stern and disapproving—he disapproved of everything Jessamine was, she suspected—and cleared his throat.

“The Duke of Knightford to see you, miss.”

Before Jessamine could command he be shown in, if she had even intended to do so, there were sounds of footsteps, and the duke himself appeared on the threshold. His brows came together upon seeing Lady Marwich and Temperance.

“Ladies,” he said, and bowed. “I wish to speak with Lady Jessamine privately, if I may.”

“Would you like me to remain as chaperone?” Lady Marwich asked, and Jessamine almost laughed.

Chaperone. As though the situation was somehow salvageable.

She would be marrying the duke no matter what anyone saw or thought. And there was no one here to cause a scandal at her being left alone with him, though she hardly feared a scandal much at all. That was why she had offered to take William; she did not fear the condemnation of the ton.

“It’s all right,” she said to her friend, attempting a smile. “I rather suspect the situation has gone beyond societal conventions.”

“Then we will take our leave.” Lady Marwich rose, eyeing the duke with curiosity but not disfavor. “And we will be sure to visit again. Temperance.”

Temperance also rose. “Good luck,” she whispered as the two ladies left the room.

The duke turned his narrowed eyes on Jessamine. “You have been spreading your location about your friends.”

“Not in the slightest. Lady Marwich and Temperance are my dearest friends, and I expect Irene—that is, the Duchess of Setton—told them.”

“No one should know your whereabouts,” he snapped.

“They will not spread it more widely. But it suits me to have friends who may visit to lift my spirits.”

He stared at her as though she had said something utterly incomprehensible. “Your spirits?”