Page 37 of This Marquess of Mine

The mattress sank as Emmy sat down beside her. “I’m so sorry, Livvy. I know you had high hopes for tonight.”

Olivia huffed out a humorless laugh. High hopes? Yes, she’d had high hopes for the evening. The higher the hopes, the greater the fall, apparently.

“I wanted a betrothal, and I got one,” Olivia said dryly. “Pity it wasn’t mine.”

The evening should have been magical. She’d spent countless hours assembling her costume, and took such care with her appearance tonight, certain the romance of the evening would inspire her duke to finally ask for her hand.

Her duke.She scoffed. He’d never been her duke, had he? She’d wanted his name so badly she’d convinced herself their marriage was inevitable, a foregone conclusion, and she’d left no space for the possibility of an alternate outcome.

What a fool she’d been.

“You tried to warn me, didn’t you?” She crossed her arms beneath her head and sighed. “You asked me what I would do if the duke should fall ill and die. I thought you were being morbid, but you knew something might happen, didn’t you? You knew the duke would not be mine.” She shook her head. “I should have listened to you.”

“Paxton is a fool,” Emmy said. “And if you would like for him to suddenly fall ill and die, I would be more than happy to look into it for you.”

The glint in her eyes was almost frightening, and Olivia couldn’t help but smile a little. “I almost wish he were dead,” she said. “At least then I could tell myself he would have married me if we’d only had more time.”

She didn’t mean it, of course. No matter how angry she was with him, she would never wish him harm. He was as much a victim of his mother’s overbearing personality as she was.

“Did you have no idea he was considering marrying this Miss Withers?” Emmy asked.

Olivia made room on the bed so Emmy could stretch out beside her. “I’ve never even heard of Miss Withers,” she said, her exasperation showing in her voice. “He’s never once mentioned her to me.”

“It is obviously the match his mother wants. Paxton would rather marry you. Everyone knows that.”

“I thought so, too,” Olivia said, fussing with the sleeve of her nightrail. “I thought if I was patient, his regard for me would eventually eclipse his desire to please his mother. I thought I was making progress.”

Her father’s letter flashed in her mind, and she grimaced, her pride recoiling at the thought of conceding defeat. “I don’t know what I’ll do now.”

“Well, I do,” Emmy said with characteristic confidence. “You will compile a list of your many admirers, cross out the ones you don’t like and let the rest fight for the honor of your hand.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “Paxton was the only duke amongst them.”

“Hang Paxton.” Emmy slashed a hand through the air. “And hang dukes, for that matter. I never thought he was good enough for you, and he’s just proved me right.”

Olivia turned her head to look at her. “You’ve never liked him very much, have you?”

Emmy shrugged. “He’s a nice man, but I never felt he was the right one for you.” Her brows drew together, concern lighting her eyes. “Are you very disappointed?”

Olivia draped her hands across her belly and nibbled her bottom lip as she assessed her feelings. “My heart isn’t broken, if that’s what you are asking,” she said slowly. “I am disappointed, of course, but honestly I feel more lost than anything else.”

For weeks she’d thought of little else but catching herself a duke, putting her need to please her father above everything else. Now that it was over, she had no idea what to do with herself.

“I did want to marry him,” she said, her gaze on the ceiling again. “Yes, because it would make me a duchess, but also because I genuinely liked him, and I believed we would be happy together. I still do.” She shook her head and tried to smile. “But none of that matters now, does it? It is over.”

Emmy gave Olivia’s arm a gentle squeeze, but she made no reply. What else was there to say? Words would change nothing. What was done was done.

Paxton was betrothed to another, and Olivia had no choice but to let him go.