Page 98 of Winning Her Duke

For the rest of their lives.

*

Gia was staring out at the garden, enjoying her freedom from ladylike pursuits the next afternoon when Luther came into the drawing room to announce Lord Duncan had arrived.

It felt like years since she’d seen the man that she’d intended to marry.

Their conversation would not be pleasant, but it needed to be done. She respected him enough not to allow this to go on longer than necessary. She only hoped she would be able to keep from smiling for the duration of his visit, so it didn’t seem she was absolutely gleeful while delivering the news.

While they were not formally betrothed, she owed him the respect of telling him they would never be.

“Please see him in,” she said while she sat up straight. Lydia would be so proud.

“You look lovely today,” Lord Duncan greeted her as he came into the room with Bess following closely behind, as was proper.

“It is a pleasant day,” she offered in return since she wished the awkwardness that was certain to follow would be over with due haste.

“Have you heard word from your father and his bride?”

“Uh, yes.”

“And when will they arrive to hear of our wonderful news?”

Gia bit her bottom lip and winced. This had to be the most uncomfortable thing she’d ever had to do.

But she was not a coward, and this needed to be done. She would endeavor to do it with the utmost care for his feelings.

“I’m afraid there has been a change of plans.”

“They are not coming back to London? Perhaps we will have to move forward with our plan to marry without his blessing.”

“That is not the change in plans. I’m afraid I am unable to marry you, my lord.”

“Unable to marry me? Whyever for?”

“I don’t know that we need to get into the why of it, since it doesn’t change the fact that I cannot marry you.” She repeated that last part a bit more sternly so he would pay special attention.

“Are you throwing me over?”

“I’d rather not word it like that, but as I’ve said, I cannot—”

“Marry me—yes, you’ve said as much a few times now. You’ll forgive me if I persist on knowing why you can no longer marry me when you previously told me you would.”

“If you will recall, I never actually said I would marry you, because you have not officially asked for my hand. Therefore, I’m not officially throwing you over, if you are determined to use that phrase.” Things were turning quite official.

“We had an understanding.”

“Yes, and an understanding is not the same as a betrothal, my lord. So, you see, no one has been thrown anywhere.” She offered a bigger smile than the conversation warranted and held it tightly in place.

“Again, you’ve neglected to explain why our understanding is now void.”

Giving up, she let out a breath. There was no sense avoiding the answer as the man would surely see the truth of it when banns were read on Sunday announcing her betrothal to Jeremy instead.

“Upon his return to London, the Duke of Roxburghe asked for my hand. As you are aware, he and I held a friendship before he went to the country. I assumed he was not interested in marriage but am happy to say I was wrong in my assumption.”

The man laughed, a harsh sound that hinted at anger.

“I can assure you, Miss Gia, you were not wrong in your assumption at all. In fact, this is all my fault. You see, after I learned you planned to gift Arabella to the duke, I visited him to explain that the mare was part of the dowry promised by your father. What I neglected to realize was the level of deviousness the man would go to in order to get what he wanted. I should have allowed him the one horse rather than tempt him into marrying you to get all of them.”