An Heiress to Defy the Duke (Preview)

Chapter One

Lady Eleanor Whitcombe felt more at home in the country than anywhere else.

It was as though the sun shone brighter, illuminating her dark blonde hair and making her blue-gray eyes lighter. She did not often feel beautiful, but when she passed mirrors in her aunt’s country home, she saw glimpses of a lady that could be perceived as such.

She did not like the thought of returning home to London, where she was seen as lesser than all the other ladies. She was not what was considered conventionally attractive, and at one-and-twenty years of age and unmarried, that thought plagued her more than she would have liked. The carriage rumbled beneath them as they traveled, making her shiver.

“You seem unhappy,” her maid, Lydia Grendel, said gently. “You shall see your aunt again soon.”

“I know, but I do not feel ready to return home yet. I have missed my home, but as for the people there…”

“You need not be so concerned, miss. You are brilliant, and those in society know it.”

It was easy for Lydia to say, Eleanor thought. Lydia was not someone who was considered attractive in terms of her features—brown hair, brown eyes, tanned skin—but there was a radiance about her. She glowed in a way that Eleanor never had, and there was no changing that.

“The only remarkable thing about me is my fortune.” She sighed. “And speaking of it would only lead to the wrong sort of suitor. Then again, I shall be on the shelf before too long, and so perhaps I may have to at last breathe word of it.”

“Lord Whitcombe told you not to do that, not to let the assumptions fly, and you would never disobey him. Besides, it is not as though you are forty years of age. You have far more time than you think, miss.”

Eleanor smiled, grateful for the encouragement, but it did not help as much as her maid might have it wanted to. It was how her life was, and that was not going to change for no reason.

The first few hours of their journey passed uneventfully, with Eleanor managing to read in short bursts before the bumpy road caused her to feel rather unwell and she had to stop. Eventually, she leaned her head back and let herself rest for a while. In doing so, she hoped the ride would pass quicker. She was not one who enjoyed traveling, and so even though she was apprehensive about her return to town, it was preferable to being in the carriage.

As she drifted off, she began to dream of a ball. She was wearing a silver gown, one that rustled as she danced with a gentleman. He was tall, with dark hair, and he held her in a protective way that made her feel safe.

The dream came to an abrupt halt as the carriage came to a skidding stop. It tilted, the horses startled, and she jolted awake again. Lydia clung to her arm tightly, and Eleanor’s heart pounded as they remained still after the fact. She turned to her maid, whose eyes were tightly shut, and gave her a soothing pat on the arm.

“It is alright,” she said gently. “Everything is fine. Wait here while I see what has happened.”

Lydia nervously opened her eyes, releasing her grip, and Eleanor slipped out of the carriage.

As soon as her feet hit the pavement, however, she was confronted by a man. He approached her furiously, his face contorted.

“What are you doing?” he thundered. “You could have had us all killed!”

“I am not the driver,” she argued fiercely. “How is this my fault? Perhaps you should have been more careful?”

“You should have a better driver. He was not paying attention and almost crashed into my horse. Have your father choose more wisely, in future.”

Taken aback, Eleanor looked at the man properly. He was tall and muscular, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, dressed too casually to be anyone of societal importance. He would have been rather handsome if he were not so furious, she considered, but it was impossible to know for certain when he was seemingly incapable of remaining calm.

“I shall speak with my driver,” she explained, taking a breath to calm down. “He will tell me what has happened.”

“I have already told you. He was reckless, and he is fortunate that I know how to handle matters.”

“Forgive me for not believing a stranger over a man that has worked for my family for years,” she retorted. “You might think highly of yourself, but I cannot think the same of a man who is willing to speak to a lady in such an unpleasant way.”

“I do not speak to ladies this way. I only adopt this tone with those deserving, and almost causing harm to my horse certainly warrants it.”

Before she could respond, he walked away, softening as he reached his horse to soothe it. It continued pawing at the ground, whinnying, and though Eleanor was furious she had to soften herself at the sight of it. She disliked the man’s manners, but she had to respect that he cared for his animals.

“I am so sorry, miss,” her driver called out, appearing at last.

“It is alright, Davis,” she replied as he approached her. “Believe me, I know you are good at what you do.”

“I am the one you should be apologizing to,” the man commanded. “It is myself and my horse that you almost injured.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Davis replied. “I do apologize. I never would have swerved in the way that I did, but a squirrel ran into the road. I did not wish to hurt the poor thing, and so I tried to avoid it. I did have time to look around me.”

The man’s anger weakened at her driver’s reasoning. He clearly seemed to care for animals a good deal, which was admirable, but it did not alleviate his awful temper.

“Yes, well, see to it that it does not happen again,” he thundered, turning to leave.

Davis returned to the carriage, but Eleanor could not. She was shaken by the encounter, unable to accept being spoken to in such a way. She chased after him, taking his sleeve without thinking.

“Who do you think you are?” she asked. “That is no way to treat others, whether or not you believe that you have been wronged. Did nobody ever teach you manners?”

“I will not be chastised by someone who does not care for the well-being of animals. You should think of how frightened these horses are. Someone has to take care of them, and if you are not willing to, then I see no reason to respect you, either.”

“Of course I care for the horses! I shall have you know that—”

“There is nothing that you can tell me that I do not already know,” he said dismissively, looking her up and down. “You are wealthy, that much is clear, and given that you are not accompanied by a man I can tell that you are unmarried, and your father trusts you enough to be sent away alone. Either that, or he likes being rid of you. I would certainly not blame him for that.”

“I shall have you know that my father was wonderful, a loving and kind man, the likes of which you could only hope to become. Not that you ever will, for you shall not have children. You would have to woo a lady for that to happen, and if this is how you speak, that will never happen.”

She turned away, satisfied, and returned to her carriage. As she reached it, however, the man called out to her one final time.

“You are also unmarried,” he reminded her, “and so you must be as insufferable as you accuse me of being.”

He rode away before she could say another word.

When she returned to her home, disembarking from the carriage, her housekeeper greeted her warmly, but she could not escape the awful feeling in her stomach. The man had ruined her time away, and she could not make herself forget about it. She had always thought that she was understanding, and quick to forgive, but she could not do it.

Her housekeeper noticed, of course. Rose was a woman who saw things that were not visible, especially when it came to Eleanor. It did not matter how hard she tried to cover her true emotions, her housekeeper saw them and tried to help her through them. Perhaps, she considered, that was why she did not try to hide her anger upon her return.

“What has happened?” Rose asked the moment she laid eyes on her. “Have you had a dispute with your aunt?”

“Not at all,” she replied. “Aunt Honoria and I had a wonderful time together, though I could not convince her to visit us.”

“If you did not quarrel with your aunt, what has happened? You seem deeply unhappy.”

“I will not claim to be pleased. There was an awful man that we came across on the way home. We frightened his precious horse, and he felt the need to speak to me in a most unkind tone.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. Eleanor hardly ever had any trouble with others, for she was, as far as she was concerned, very agreeable. It was a trait she inherited from her mother, along with her need for independence.

“Will you do anything about it?” Rose asked. “It seems to have greatly affected you.”

Eleanor was grateful to have a housekeeper that was more like a friend to her. Rose had been there since long before Eleanor was born, and she had been there to support her when it felt as though she had nobody else.

She sighed, playing with her hair as she took a seat on a settee. Rose joined her, and Eleanor looked in the mirror displayed above the lit fire. 

“I never do,” she replied. “Besides, even if I wanted to I could not. I did not hear his name, and it was not as though he was anyone of importance. He was simply a bad-tempered man, and soon enough I will have forgotten all about him.”

“Very good. You have learned so quickly, miss. I remember when you were a little girl, and you did everything you could to seek justice. It was admirable.”

“Yes, well, little girls grow up. I most certainly have.”

“A shame,” Rose sighed wistfully. “Come, let us help you settle in at home again. We cannot let you have another Season where you refuse to find a husband.”

“I do not want one,” she protested. “I have no need for a man, not when I already live the life that I want. Father made quite certain of that.”

She was right, too. Her father had ensured she would be left with enough money and property to live her life as she pleased. He had worked all of his life in order to provide her with everything she desired. He was a good man, a real man, unlike the stranger that she had encountered. If she did not want to marry, and she did not need to. That usually brought her comfort.

The only exception was when the social Season arrived, and Eleanor remembered how undesirable she was. No mother to socialize for her, no father to broker deals with, and no men in her family to take that place. She was alone, and it was a gift and a curse.

“You and I both know what you truly want,” Rose said gently. “This year will be different, miss, I can assure you.”

“And if it is not, I will not mind too terribly.”

Her housekeeper smiled at her, but Eleanor knew Rose saw through her act. She wanted love, the kind her own mother and father had shared, but she was never going to have it. She would have to hold her own.

It was all that she had ever done.

Chapter Two

There was very little that could anger Henry Ashford.

He was a calm man, one that was slow with his temper and had a talent for keeping himself mellow. There was one exception to that, however, and that was Sterling.

Sterling had been his horse for as long as he could remember, and there was nothing that hurt Henry quite like the thought of harm coming to him. He could not bear the thought of it, and it affected his actions more than was perhaps expected. It was not helped by the fact that so much had changed for him in the last few months, and it did not seem as though things would become easier anytime soon.

The lady that he had met was incredibly rude to him, and in spite of how he had been with her he would have expected more gentleness from a lady. It was something he had grown accustomed to in the few months that he had been the Duke of Wexford. No matter what he did, people saw his title and were ingratiating to him, even if he was undeserving. It had been a long time since someone had been unkind to him, and he blamed that for his behavior.

Regardless, she had been a strange lady. She was tall and elegant, clearly a lady of wealth, but her words were those of a commoner—much like he assumed his own were. She likely thought him a commoner, too, given his attire. He had not given much thought to it, as he had been traveling for a long time and chose to prioritize comfort over style.

As he neared home, he passed his club. Henry knew the best thing to do was to go home and see his mother and sister after such an extended absence, but he could not help himself. He needed a drink to steady his nerves, or at least that was what he told himself. He handed Sterling off to be stationed and entered the club, hoping it would ease his memory of the lady.

Thankfully, Julian Pembroke was already there. He was Henry’s greatest friend, and as he noticed him, Julian raked a hand through his sandy blond hair and looked at Henry with wide green eyes.

“I see you have returned, Your Grace.” He grinned. “Are you here to celebrate?”

“Something like that.” Henry nodded, ordering a drink and sitting beside him. “I cannot stay long, for I must return to my family.”

“Ah, yes. How are they? I trust that you maintained contact with them, especially Lady Arabella.”

“I had no choice in that matter. My sister cannot go a single day without telling me every detail of her day.”

“I like that. I envy you greatly for the fact that you have such a bond with your sister.”

Henry smiled, agreeing that it was a good thing. Pembroke had a sister of his own, but they hardly spoke. She had envied him for his intellect, and the fact that he was the one to inherit the family title and fortune only made matters worse. Henry often forgot that not everyone had a good relationship with their family, and such reminders made him all the more grateful.

“And how is your mother?”

“Arabella says that she has improved. She still wears black, though.”

“Indeed,” Pembroke confirmed. “There are whispers that she is doing it for attention now, but of course everyone knows the truth. Your mother shall mourn your father for a long time, and anyone who knew them knows precisely why that is.”

They had been in love, another rarity that Henry had only truly understood when his father passed away. Most marriages were born of arrangement and convenience, but not that of his parents. They had married later in life, having fallen for each other over the course of years. Their match was no surprise to anyone, and they had been very happy for years.

His mother did not leave the drawing room for days after the funeral. She sat on the same part of the settee that she had throughout her marriage, a powder blue cushion on her lap in a vain effort to add the weight of her late husband’s hand. She did not speak, she did not move, and she scarcely ate. Arabella had to serve her tea in the room, as it was the only way to make her eat anything. It was the worst time for Henry to leave, but he had no choice. It was an urgent matter, and it had to be tended to.

“But you have seen her?” Henry asked. “That is good. It means that she is now leaving the house.”

“I believe Lady Arabella is forcing her to. They are always arm in arm, mumbling to each other.”

“It is a good start,” he nodded. “I hope that my sister continues to be a steadfast confidante with her, for at least that way my mother will not be so desperate to make me court any ladies.”

“Ah, yes, the social Season is upon us.”

“And at thirty years of age,” Henry added, “it is expected that you and I find ladies to marry. I have very little intention of doing so, but with my mother the way that she is I do not think that I can refuse.”

“She has always had you wrapped around her finger.” Pembroke chuckled. “She will understand, though. You wish to have what they did, and you are still not as old as your father was when he married. You have time.”

“And if the lady I met today is anything to go by, I shall not find anyone for a very long time.”

Pembroke raised an eyebrow with a lopsided grin, signaling for two more drinks.

“Come now,” Henry protested. “I told you that I cannot stay long.”

“I saw how quickly you drank that brandy. Believe me, you will not be here very long.”

With a sigh, Henry recounted the ordeal, how she had berated him, told him that he did not speak kindly to ladies, and how he behaved terribly. Pembroke laughed throughout, and he only grew worse as Henry became flustered. It was how Pembroke had always been—not too interested in the serious side of matters, but when he was, he cared wholeheartedly.

“That must have been awful,” he commiserated when Henry was finished. “I do not recall the last time someone spoke to you in that manner.”

“Not since I became Duke. Then again, if she knew who I was, she might have acted accordingly.”

“Then why did you not tell her? It would have been an easy way to end the matter.”

“Because I do not want to rely on my title. I have only just inherited it, and I refuse to be known as that sort of man. You and I mock them enough.”

“Yes, but it would have brought an end to the issue quickly,” he replied, chuckling before turning more serious. “How is Sterling?”

Henry was pleased that his friend understood his bond with his horse. 

“He is fine now. He was quite shaken, but that eased as we continued on our way. Perhaps I overreacted, but I could hardly think at the time. You know how I am with him.”

“Yes, and it surprises me that you ever take him off of the estate. It is like a lady wearing her best jewels when there is a robber running amok in the streets. There are dangers all around, Wexford.”

“Do not remind me. My mother has told me enough of them. Truly, I do not know why she was so intent on frightening me while I was away.”

“Perhaps she wanted you to come home?”

It was a nice thought, but Henry thought of her sitting alone in her room, not wanting to see anyone at all, and knew that could not have been the case. 

“No, she knew how important it was that I left. I had urgent matters to attend to in Vienna, and she encouraged me to go, but then I suppose when I was actually away it was not so easy to understand that.”

“And how were the ladies there? I assume they were accommodating?”

“They may well have been, but I would not know.”

“Of course not. Come now, Wexford, do not treat me like a child. You and I both know that you could have had your pick of the ladies there, and you expect me to believe that you did not take advantage of that?”

“As I am someone that does not want a smaller Wexford running around there, yes, I do expect you to believe me. Besides, I have never been one to treat a lady that way and you know it.”

“Yes, I know, you want love and nothing less. Perhaps you should have asked that lady you met today for her name? She would be the type to challenge you and keep you on your toes, and that is precisely what you need.”

“I would rather not have a marriage that leaves me furious at any given moment. She was insufferable, Pembroke.”

“Was she? Or did she simply not curtsy deeply and swear allegiance to your dukely presence?”

Henry drank his brandy, and as he placed his glass down he cursed his friend in his head for knowing him so well, for he had already guessed that Henry would drink it in one again.

“I do not care about people respecting my title. I want to be respected for who I am. There is a difference.”

“And who you were was a strange man that spoke to her unkindly because her driver frightened your horse. It is not as though any of it was her fault.”

“Yes, but—”

Henry knew that his friend was right, and that he could have approached the situation differently, but he was frustrated all the same. It was true he had grown accustomed to the respect that came with a position such as his, but he did not want to become the sort of man that expected it. Part of him longed to return to the year prior, where he did not have such responsibility, nor such notoriety. It was a large part, he realized.

“Regardless,” he continued, “I will not see her again. I can return home and assist in finding a match for my sister, who is far more open to the whole thing.”

“Lady Arabella is in want of a husband this year?” Pembroke asked. “I thought you wanted her to wait a while longer.”

“It is what I would prefer, but you know how she is when she has an idea. She wishes to be a wife so that I can have the household to myself. She has also always been a romantic, so there is no arguing with her about it. With any hope, she will not find a worthy suitor until I have arranged some things.”

Pembroke did not ask him what things he was referring to, and Henry was grateful for that. It was a matter that he wished to keep to himself, and though he trusted his friend he did not wish to burden him.

“I must go,” Henry said firmly. “It has been a pleasure seeing you again, and you are of course welcome to visit whenever you like. I ought to see my family, however, and assure them that I did not die during my journey home.”

“Your mother shall be relieved.” Pembroke nodded, before adding, “And your sister will be furious that you will be home to assist her with the season.”

Henry laughed, but he knew there was truth in it. Arabella would have gladly fallen in love and married without his input if she could, and he was half-expecting to return home and found out that she was married already.

In order to know for certain, however, he had to go home.

Chapter Three

The morning after her return, Eleanor ate her breakfast and chose a book to read. Her drawing room was bright and orderly, the kind of space her aunt approved of. It was comfortable, with pale blue wallpaper decorated with birds and cozy armchairs scattered around, but it was not too much. A small fire gave warmth to the room, for it had been cold that morning, and the tea tray between the two chairs gave off the faint scent of lemon and strong black leaves.

Caroline curled into her seat as though she lived there, spooning sugar into her cup in a way that made Eleanor feel nauseous.

“You always take it too plain,” her friend teased, glancing at Eleanor’s cup.

Eleanor lifted her cup, blowing across the surface before drinking it.

“And you always make it so sweet it could be mistaken for syrup,” she replied warmly.

They were very different young ladies, but that had never prevented them from forging a strong bond. Caroline was the only person their age that Eleanor truly trusted, for she was the only one that cared little as to how Eleanor had amassed such a fortune.

“Have you heard the news?” Caroline asked. “I do not suppose that you have seen Isobel since your return.”

“As I came home yesterday, no. Is she alright?”

“Even better than.” Caroline sighed. “She is engaged as of a week ago. A Lord Berking.”

“How awful. An arrangement?”

“It does not seem so, no,” Caroline replied, though Eleanor doubted that very much. “You know how much she has wanted to marry for love. When I saw her, she seemed quite pleased with it all.”

“It is not as though she would have any other choice but to smile and be pleased. Personally, I pity the girl.”

Caroline rolled her eyes at her, placing her teacup down and taking a small cake. Eleanor did the same, though she took a sandwich instead.

“I know you recoil at the thought of being a wife,” Caroline smiled coyly, “but some of us think it is not such an awful thing. You may not need to find a husband, but do you not think it might be nice? It must be lonely alone in such a big house.”

It was true, her home was large. It had been her mother’s pride and joy before she passed, and she had spent her life perfecting it. It was why her aunt also adored it so, and why she had never thought to change it too much.

“I prefer my own company. I do not need a man to sit in every room I enter and talk to me. Besides, I have friends for companionship, like you.”

“Of course, but if I were to marry a Scottish earl or some such thing, we would be separated. I do not want to leave you behind, El.”

“Believe me, you would not be. I want all of my friends to find their happiness, even if I do not completely understand why this is what you would want. Personally, I rather think that I live a very charmed life.”

“You certainly do. Many ladies envy you for that.”

“And they should. I can do as I please, and live my life as I wish to. I do not have a man telling me what is and is not acceptable in my own home, nor do I have a husband that I must constantly impress. The thought of it alone is unbearable. If it is what you want, I shall not begrudge you it, but if you ask me I cannot think of anything worse.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Eleanor looked to her friend, who was tracing circles around the rim of her teacup. She was clearly thinking about something, and though Eleanor preferred to let her friend speak when she was ready, she was too curious to let it be.

“What is it?” she asked. “I know you are concerned for me, but I am perfectly happy as I am.”

“I do not doubt that. The thing is, Lord Montrose was asking after you at a ball the other evening. I told him you were visiting your aunt, and he seemed unhappy that you were absent.”

“And unhappy he shall remain. Lord Frederick Montrose is not the sort of gentleman that I would like to woo me. There is no gentleman that I would like that from, of course, but especially not him.”

There was, objectively, nothing wrong with Lord Montrose. He was a handsome man, with light eyes and dark hair and a devilish grin that made most ladies swoon. Caroline was no exception to that, and though Eleanor had not been so easily swayed by his charms, she understood why her friend was.

“He is all yours, believe me,” Eleanor pressed. “I have no interest in him.”

“And he has no interest in me. Gentlemen never do, when you are with me.”

“That is not true! You are very well liked by the gentlemen of the ton, you simply only notice the unattainable.”

It was true. Caroline was beautiful, fair-haired with hazel eyes and freckles on her porcelain skin. Alongside that, she was gentle and intelligent and musically inclined. She would make the perfect bride, Eleanor did not doubt that, but she was cursed with a tendency to only like the sort of gentlemen who were not yet seeking a bride.

“Lord Montrose is only unattainable because he would rather marry you. I do not blame you for that, of course.”

“No, I know you do not. All the same, if it is marriage that you seek, perhaps you might do well to give one of the many suitors that arrive at your drawing room a chance?”

“Should a gentleman I like ever appear, I will. In the meantime, I shall weep and wander the hallways in a daze, dreaming of a prince that will not come for me.”

The ladies laughed softly, and the matter ended. Eleanor knew perfectly well that Caroline would marry well once she found the right man, and she was just as certain that she would never do the same herself.

It was not what she wanted. She did not consider marriage an awful thing in and of itself, but it was not something that she could do. Very few knew of her fortune, even if it was known that she had ample funds to support herself without a husband, and she wished to keep it that way. She knew that, should knowledge of just how wealthy she was became known, gentlemen would appear from nowhere and beg for her hand, pretending that they knew nothing of her status.

“How have you been?” Caroline asked. “I know that you enjoy your visits to your aunt.”

“Very much so. The journey is long, but as she refuses to come to the city, I make the time to see her. I cannot say that I blame her for wishing to avoid London, for if I could do the same I would.”

“And you could,” Caroline pointed out, “if you did not want to find a match, which you claim not to.”

“Yes, well, Aunt Honoria says that I should at least show willingness. I would very much like to hide away in the country, but she has instructed me to make an effort until I am five-and-twenty. If I go that long without finding a match, then she claims she will allow me to stop trying.”

“And are you trying?” Caroline asked.

“Yes, very much so,” Eleanor joked, taking a small cake at last.

She took a bite, the sugar dissolving on her tongue. She did not like the sweetness of most treats, but sometimes it was pleasant enough. It helped that her cook knew not to give her too much sugar, and adjusted the food accordingly.

“Well, I will say that I have been lonely without you,” Caroline continued, “and I have been in the city. I am already tired of all the events. The first few balls and garden parties are fine, enjoyable even, but eventually it becomes monotonous. I want some excitement this year, something to surprise me.”

“Have you considered listening to gossip? I hear that it is quite thrilling.”

Caroline scoffed, and Eleanor chuckled. They had never paid much attention to scandal sheets, nor did they listen to whispers in ballrooms. It was of very little interest to them, as they knew that most of what was said was not true to begin with.

“There is a rumor about you, though,” Caroline said, stiffening. “It is nothing too terrible, but it is alleged that you have a husband elsewhere. The claim is that he is dreadful, and so you spend most of your time here, your lives separate.”

“If I had a husband, I would not object to that arrangement. I suppose that when I visit my aunt, they believe I am with my husband?”

“Indeed. It is an odd thing to say of someone, but there is yet to be a great scandal and so I suppose people will believe anything.”

“Well, I can assure you that such a rumor is false. If I had a wedding, you would have been invited.”

They laughed, but even so Eleanor felt a twinge of anger. No matter what she did, there was an expectation that she would do as every other lady did and marry at any cost. She greatly disliked that she was considered to have so little courage that she would agree to marry an awful man that had her live elsewhere. She knew what she wanted, and she had always thought that the ton were aware of that.

And yet, that did not matter. She could have been as outspoken as she wanted, but nothing would change. She was a young lady, and so it was assumed she dreamed of nothing but the perfect suitor. There was nothing she could do about that.

“What if you marry a commoner?” Caroline suggested. “Do not tell him who you are, and then there is no chance that he will be a social climber. You may prefer the company of someone such as that.”

“Yes, and yet I am never in the proximity of such people. Well, as a matter of fact, I was yesterday, but if he is a representation of everyone of that position I would rather not marry at all.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes, and Eleanor told her of her encounter with the man on her journey. She remembered his appearance, and his scowl, and way he had spoken to her. She had never met someone that she hated, but when it came to that man, she knew that she at least had the capacity to feel something as strong as hatred.

“That is awful,” Caroline breathed when she finished. “I am so sorry you had to hear that. I cannot imagine having such a strong reaction to an accident, especially when nobody was hurt.”

“Especially when I was not even driving! Had he been that way with my driver, I would still have been angry about it, but it would have been more justified. What is worse is that he was furious because of his horse, when the reason my driver had swerved was to protect an animal. You would think that he would have understood.”

“Regardless, it is not as though you will see him again. Some people have so much hatred in their hearts that it burns them to their core. You and I are not like that, and we shall choose to be around others like us just as we always have.”

“Such as Lord Montrose?”

Caroline blushed, sipping her tea.

“Should he ever see me, I would not be opposed to it. He is a good man, which is precisely why I am not against you having him for yourself, should you ever change your mind.”

“I will not,” she said firmly. “I will never change.”

And she was certain of it, too.