Page 21 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

Marigold adjusted the best bonnet she owned to avoid crying in her own room. It was the only good thing she had ever heard about herself in her whole life, and it was based on a lie. How grand her life was.

When she was ready, she descended the stairs. She did not even need to question why the Duke was not entering her house. His disdain for Claire was not something he was prone to hide. She took her gloves and umbrella and exited the house, only to be immediately attacked.

A massive brindle English Mastiff pulled closer to sniff her, and Marigold was taken by surprise.

“Do not worry. She will not hurt you.”

The Duke stood there, imposing in his dark clothes, holding the leash of the giant dog. Marigold looked at her attacker and let the animal sniff her hand. For a few moments, she waited for approval, only to be attacked once again when the mountain of a dog decided to hug her. Had she been a smaller woman, it might have knocked her flat on her back, but Marigold could survive a little enthusiasm.

“Her name is Duck,” the Duke said, watching the scene unfold.

“You did not name this beauty Duck,” Marigold said without looking at him.

She was occupied scratching Duck behind the ears. The dog responded enthusiastically, nuzzling against her and wagging her tail hard enough to vibrate with excitement.

“No, you are not,” she cooed at the dog. “At the very least, you are a tiger.”

Duck responded to that conclusion with double the enthusiasm, licking her hand and bouncing around her. Marigold smiled sweetly, thinking that there was at least one good thing she was getting out of this arranged marriage.

When she looked up at the Duke, he was studying them both with a dark expression. Marigold deciphered it quickly.

The Duke was jealous.

“Oh, come now, Your Grace,” she reassured him. “I am fairly certain you are still her favorite despite your inadequate naming.”

The Duke looked at her with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes before offering her his elbow and pulling Duck back to his side.

“I trust you have read the newspaper,” he said.

“I have, and I think you were a little excessive regarding my person.”

“It was exactly what needed to be said. Is the Serpentine suitable for today?”

The weather was splendid, not a single cloud overhead. A pleasant breeze carried fragrances from all over Mayfair as spring slowly began to bloom. Yet all Marigold could think about was the fact that such pleasant weather would bring out most of the ton to stroll around the scenic river.

“If you wish so, Your Grace.”

“We do need to sell the idea that this was a love match.”

Her jaw tightened at the mention of such a foreign word. How was she supposed to pretend to feel something she had never experienced? And who in their right mind would ever believe that a man this impressive, powerful, and rich would fall for someone… how had her mother put it? Ah yes. Plain and simple and obscure.

She inhaled sharply through her nose and fluttered her eyes shut to prevent tears from falling as they made their way down the Serpentine. Instantly, her fears proved true. It was as if the whole of the gentry had decided to take a walk at that exact moment.

Every single person there, small groups, couples, families, gentlemen strolling together, studied them as they passed.

“Is everything in order?” the Duke leaned down to ask near her ear.

Nothing was ever in order in her life, but she had managed thus far, and she intended to continue. So instead, she focused on the one individual genuinely happy to be with her that morning: Duck.

The moment Marigold turned her attention toward the dog, Duck circumvented the Duke to walk beside her, forcing him to keep Marigold between them.

“You are such a good girl,” Marigold murmured, petting the dog.

“I assure you,” the Duke said, “she possesses a far more feral disposition.”

“Dogs take after their owners, after all,” Marigold commented, scratching beneath Duck’s chin.

“Is that so?” the Duke asked, almost amused.