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“I’d be happy to discuss horses with His Grace on your behalf, Uncle,” Selina assured him.
“Thank you kindly, dear,” Uncle Latimer said. Now that she was becoming a Duchess, it seemed to Selina that Lady Leah felt as though she’d won some sort of contest. But it was a competition that Selina had never been interested in.
“Would you like for me to send for some tea, dear?” Aunt Georgiana asked.
“Yes, please, Aunt Georgiana,” Selina murmured.
* * *
Jasper Munro, The Duke of Gillingham, and his good friend, Lord Stephen Cull, the Marquess of Sandbourne, were out riding. Jasper was trying out his new hunter, a large black Thoroughbred named Pilot. He sat comfortably in the saddle—he was a tall gentleman with broad shoulders, green eyes, and dark-blond hair, covered by a top hat.
“Do we have time for a turn about the wood over there?” Stephen asked, hopefully.
“Unfortunately, no,” Jasper muttered grimly. “I’m expected at the house to receive my bride-to-be.”
“Why the long face?” Stephen asked as they rode back toward the stables. “Lady Leah is a beautiful, genteel lady.”
Jasper sighed heavily. “I just—I just always thought that the lady I married would be the lady that I loved.”
“That’s a rarity, and you know it,” Stephen pointed out kindly.
“I’m disappointed, Stephen,” he admitted. Jasper had never been in love. Nor, it seemed, would he ever be. His life had always been one of duty. He had never seen in his own parents the kind of spark that he was longing to feel.
“Well, can’t go back now, can you?” Stephen replied, morosely. “The Banns have already been announced. That’s as good as being married.”
“True,” Jasper mused as they rode into the yard. He swung down off of his horse’s back, landing on his feet. The stable boy walked over, taking their horses from them.
The two gentlemen walked toward the house—Gillingham Manor was his, and he was extremely proud of it. The house was built of sandstone, with large windows that overlooked the green fields of the estate. It was full of light and expertly crafted. Recently, he’d had cypress trees planted, all along the drive. He was very proud of the Mediterranean flair that it added.
Jasper sent his own carriage to collect Lady Leah, his intended. His manservant waited for the barouche-landau to return.
“Looks like she’s here,” Stephen said, looking at Jasper sympathetically.
“Indeed,” Jasper agreed. “I suppose they’re in the ballroom.”
“I shall retire to my room, then,” Stephen told him. Lady Leah had marked dislike of Stephen, which baffled Jasper. Stephen was outgoing, intelligent, and well-liked by everyone. The two of them had been friends since their school days.
Jasper and Stephen parted ways in the foyer of Gillingham Manor. As he walked, he pulled off his riding gloves. At this hour, the day before the engagement party, servants were everywhere, rushing to fill all of his mother and his fiancée’s strict orders.
As he neared, he could hear their voices, coming from the ballroom, echoing in the vast space.
When he reached the dark-oak doors, he peered inside. Lady Leah stood next to his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Gillingham. They were both very similar—aristocratic bearing, their slender figures, the way they dressed. Today, they both wore remarkably similar shades of dark blue. They got along well.
“Jasper!” his mother said, frowning at him delicately. “Where have you been? We’ve been going on without you.”
“I was out riding with Stephen,” he said, nearing the two ladies.
His mother sniffed, disapprovingly. “You smell of horse.”
“I imagine so,” he replied, smiling at her. She beamed back at him—she was pleased that he was finally settling down. “So? What have I missed?”
“We were going over the decorations,” Lady Leah said, tucking her small hand possessively into the crook of his arm.
“The flowers will be brought in tomorrow,” his mother said. “Lilies and roses, fresh from the garden.” She gasped, looking at Lady Leah. “What if we had Martha add some jasmine to the arrangements?”
“That’s a splendid idea,” Lady Leah agreed.
Jasper felt suffocated, as though they were discussing flowers for his wake. For a brief second, he imagined himself, lying in a casket, surrounded by a large mass of white flowers.
