Betting on a Lady’s Heart (Preview)

Chapter One

“The wedding is a mere two months away, and George is already messing everything up,” Alexander ‘Alex’ Courtenay IV, Marquess of Underwood, complained as he expertly navigated his horse along the path of Hyde Park.

“Of course, Mama and Papa refuse to acknowledge that he is putting everything at risk, but that is to be expected, isn’t it?”

Alex’s best friend, Lord Matthew Thompson, sighed. “Yes, I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that the duke and duchess are looking the other way when it comes to your brother. He is still your mother’s favorite, I assume?”

“Oh, of course,” Alex said, snorting with distaste. “Lizzie and I have never been any competition when it comes to Mama’s favorite. You would think it would be her eldest son. Most mamas of the ton are quite besotted with their eldest. But no—Mama decided long ago that I am too uptight and boring to enjoy her special privileges and attention.”

Matthew made a sound of sympathy. He had been Alex’s confidant in all family matters since they were boys, and he had heard these refrains and complaints before. Still, Alex appreciated that he always listened and never told Alex that he was just repeating the same bitter frustrations again and again. 

Of course, Alex knew he was repeating himself. But seeing as what was at stake with George’s upcoming wedding, he couldn’t help but feel justified in his worries. 

“What has he been up to now?” Matthew asked after a moment. “Other than the usual debauchery and gambling, of course?”

“Oh yes, there is the usual debauchery and gambling,” Alex said with a sniff. “He often gets home after dawn reeking of whiskey and cigar smoke, not to mention cheap perfume.” He gave Matthew a knowing look, who grimaced. “But the worst of it isn’t his usual offenses. The worst of it is his affair with—” Alex couldn’t bring himself to say her name, so he didn’t. “—the opera singer.”

“The opera singer?” Matthew looked at him, frowning, and Alex experienced a small jolt of relief that Matthew hadn’t, at least, heard about the affair. If he had, that would mean the whole ton had heard of it, which meant that George’s future in-laws would have heard about it. And if they heard about it, they would be quite within their rights to call off the wedding…

“Yes. Have you been to the opera recently?”

“Of course.”

“The soprano. The blonde soprano.”

“Ahh.” Matthew’s expression registered comprehension. “Yes, of course. She is all the rage, isn’t she? I have heard gentlemen far and wide lamenting that she would not become their mistress. I thought she was simply holding out for the best offer. But now, I see that she already received it. From Lord George Courtenay, second in line to the Dukedom of Uppington.”

Alex’s mouth pressed into an even thinner line. “Yes…I suppose so. Well, anyway, the affair has been ongoing for a month or two, from what I understand, and George is absolutely unapologetic about it. He has told me that he will not quit her, even though he is now engaged to Lady Charlotte Tate.”

“She is blonde also, is she not?” Matthew asked, squinting as he tried to remember. “At least she is to your brother’s taste!”

But the joke fell flat; Alex did not smile, and Matthew quickly wiped the smile from his lips. “I’m sorry, Alex,” he said quickly. “I know you are deeply concerned.”

“Indeed I am,” Alex said. He twitched the reigns of his horse but kept her steady as they continued down the rutted path. “The Earl and Countess of Brentwood are proud. They do not need their daughter to marry up or into a titled family, seeing as how they have their own. And they will not permit the marriage if it is discovered that George is carrying on with an opera singer right underneath their daughter’s nose. It would be too insulting for them when they could easily wed their daughter to someone else who did not publicly shame her.”

Matthew nodded his head, his expression thoughtful. “He has managed to keep the affair hidden for the last two months, at least,” he offered after a moment. “Perhaps he will be able to keep it hidden until after the wedding?”

“That isn’t the point,” Alex said, his hands tightening on the reins. “He dishonors that young lady by conducting this affair, and after they wed, he will be condemning her to a miserable life!”

Matthew gave Alex a small, skeptical smile. “I know that you are the most morally upright of men, Alex,” he said softly, “but you have to be realistic as well. It is not uncommon for ladies and gentlemen of the ton to conduct extramarital affairs. Even Lady Charlotte may take a lover if her marriage is unsatisfactory. In fact, she may see her husband’s infidelity as a positive outcome of the marriage that allows her to pursue her own freedom.”

“You make marriage sound so cynical,” Alex said, his jaw tightening. “But I know you wouldn’t want that kind of marriage for yourself.”

“No,” Matthew said quietly. “I would not. But not everyone is the same.”

“I suppose, but I very much doubt that Lady Charlotte Tate is the kind of demi-monde woman you are describing.”

“Do you know her well?” Matthew asked curiously.

“Not well,” Alex admitted, and his mind flashed to the pretty, fairy-like creature he had met on half a dozen occasions, although with whom he had never had a chance to form a deeper acquaintance. “But from what I know about her, she is the perfect Society lady, and has never stepped a toe out of line. I do not think that she will be the kind of lady who agrees to let her husband dishonor her—and to dishonor her own marriage vows.”

“I have heard the same, actually,” Matthew said, sighing again. “You are probably right, and marriage to George will only bring her misery if he continues on the path he is on.”

“And in the meantime, he is threatening to bring shame and scandal to our family,” Alex continued firmly. “Anyway, even if he and Lady Charlotte were to come to some kind of arrangement, I can’t help but feel that it would be wrong.”

Matthew nodded. “You know I agree with you, Alex. But what are you to do about it? You cannot control your brother’s actions. He is over the age of one-and-twenty.”

“My father could cut him off!” Alex said at once. His mare whinnied upon hearing his excitement, and he quickly lowered his voice. “It’s what I’ve been trying to convince Papa to threaten George with if he doesn’t put an end to his disreputable behavior. But every time I try to talk to Papa, Mama intervenes. She makes up all sorts of excuses and lies about George, tells Papa that I am too hard on my younger brother, that I am envious of his freedoms…” This last one made Alex particularly irritable, and he had to stop speaking before he said something he regretted. 

Matthew, seeming to sense his friend’s anger, put a hand on Alex’s arm. “You’ve done everything you can, Alex,” he said kindly. “But it sounds as if there is nothing more you can do. Your brother has made his choices, and if your parents won’t listen to you, then I don’t see what choice you have. You must go along with things and just try to hope for the best.”

Alex knew that his friend was right, but he didn’t want to accept it. As the eldest brother and heir to the dukedom, he felt as if there should be more he could do to curb his brother’s behavior. If their father was dead, and Alex was already the duke, then he would have more leverage.

But in the meantime, their father was the patriarch of the family, and he made the decisions. If he wanted to let George get away with such rakish debauchery, then it was up to him. 

“Shall we head back?” Matthew asked, glancing up at the sky. “It looks as if it’s going to rain, and I don’t fancy having to wade through mud all the way back to Mayfair.”

“Yes, let’s go back,” Alex agreed, and they both steered their horses around and back toward the exit to the park. 

Alex and Matthew both kept apartments at The Albany, a residence for gentleman bachelors who did not want to live with their families. Although when in the country, Alex stayed at his family’s historic estate, when in town he liked to live apart from his parents and brother.

It was the only way he could keep his sanity while trying to deal with George’s mischief and his mother’s blatant favoritism. It wasn’t that the favoritism bothered him—he certainly wasn’t envious of it—but it could be irritating to be around.

The duchess’s blindness to her youngest son’s impropriety was an endless source of frustration for Alex. His father’s blindness to his mother’s bias was equally appalling. 

It was much better for everyone that Alex kept an apartment at The Albany, where he could maintain a distance from his family while keeping a watchful eye over the maintenance of the estate. This was his whole life—ensuring that the family estate was kept lucrative and thriving.

What else was a future duke, really, than his dukedom? And Alex would die before he would ever let anything happen to the Dukedom of Uppington. It wasn’t just his life’s work, it was his legacy. 

When Alex arrived back at his apartment, it had just begun to rain. He was looking forward to a scotch in front of the fire while he read through the most recent tenancy agreements, but he had just sat down in front of the hearth in his study and begun to warm himself when there was an urgent knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Alex called, and his butler entered, holding a silver tray with a letter on it. 

“This came from Uppington House, Your Lordship,” the butler said, bowing as he held out the tray to Alex. 

“Thank you, Grimms,” Alex said as he took the letter, annoyance flickering through him at once. From Uppington House. That meant his parents wanted to speak to him—to clean up another of George’s messes, no doubt. Not that they would phrase it like that. They would make it sound as if George had been the wronged victim and that Alex was required to save him and his reputation. 

The tone of the letter, however, made Alex sit up straighter. It was very short. 

Dearest Alex,

Please come at once. You are needed at home immediately; the fate of the family is at stake. 

“Grimms, saddle a fresh horse!” Alex cried at once, jumping to his feet as his heart hammered frantically in his chest. All annoyance at his parents was gone. This was an emergency, and if the family needed him then he would be there at once. “And make haste!”

***

“George has run off.”

It was his father who delivered this line, staring at Alex with a look of such grim resignation that Alex wouldn’t have been surprised if he were announcing that someone had died. Behind the duke, the duchess was pacing nervously, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth as she uttered small sobs. 

“W-what?” Alex wasn’t quite sure he had heard this correctly. He stared back at his father, not quite believing what he’d said even as he had anticipated it. 

“Your brother, George, has run off,” the duke repeated. This time, his jaw quivered slightly, and Alex saw a flicker of the emotion that his father was working hard to hide. “He has gone to Gretna Green to marry that woman—the opera singer.”

Alex’s lips parted slightly as he took in this news. 

Still, he was surprised. George had always displayed a wanton disregard for other people, his family included, but this was beyond the pale—this was a reputation-shattering scandal. This was the kind of thing that ruined a family. It would certainly make it impossible for their little sister, Elizabeth, to marry well. Not to mention what it would do to the reputation of Lady Charlotte Tate. 

Alex felt momentarily dizzy, and he had to reach out to the nearby end table to steady himself. 

“I cannot believe it,” his father muttered, shaking his head and sinking down into the chair opposite Alex. “Your brother would never…”

“What do you mean he ‘would never’?” Alex snapped. “Of course, he would! This is what I have been warning you both about for a month! I tried to tell you about this affair, that George was in danger of bringing ruin to this family, but neither of you listened to me!”

The duchess stopped pacing and turned to Alex with a pained expression. “Please, Alex, this isn’t helpful!” she moaned. “Your brother has always caused us enough pain. Do you also have to cause us more by abusing him so viciously?”
“I am not abusing him viciously!” Alex snarled, incensed. “He is the one who has behaved reprehensibly, and I am justifiably upset with him!”

“Oh, whatever is to be done?” the duchess cried, throwing herself onto the fainting couch to her right and beginning to weep. “Our beautiful, perfect boy…Lost to himself! Ruined by a wanton woman!”

“George is a grown man,” Alex snapped. “He wasn’t ruined by a wanton woman; he made his own choices, and now we are going to suffer for it.”

He looked at his father, who was shaking slightly in his armchair. “Have you spoken yet to the Earl and Countess of Brentwood? Do they know what has happened? On that note, does anyone other than us know what has happened?”

“No one but the three of us,” the duke said at once. “I just found your brother’s note. He left last night, apparently, or I would go after him. But at this point, he has a half day’s start on us to Scotland. There wouldn’t be time to catch him…”

“Then what are you going to do?” Alex asked sharply. “Lord and Lady Brentwood will be furious! They will demand you make this right with them and their daughter.”

“I know,” the duke said, and his eyes momentarily shimmered as they settled on Alex. “And I plan to make it right with them. We have a plan.”

“What is it?” Alex asked when his father wasn’t immediately forthcoming.

“It’s you,” the duke said at last. “You shall marry Lady Charlotte instead.”

A buzzing sound filled Alex’s ears. For a moment, he was sure his father had misspoken. But from the look of sheepish guilt on his father’s face, he knew he hadn’t misspoken.

“What are you talking about?” Alex whispered, his voice low and deadly. To his satisfaction, he saw his father swallow nervously. 

“You are the only option,” the duke said softly. “I will only be able to appease Lord Brentwood if I can promise him an even better match than the one he was getting. And what could be a better match than the marriage of his daughter to the next Duke of Uppington?”

“But…you know I do not want to marry yet,” Alex said. The buzzing sound had been replaced by a pounding. Anger, dread, and fear were coursing through him. “You promised me you wouldn’t require me to wed until I am thirty.”

“You’re only three years away from thirty,” his mother pleaded, looking up from where she was crying on the fainting couch. Her red eyes and nose did little to move Alex. “Surely you could—”

“Not to mention that I do not even know Lady Charlotte!” Alex interrupted, the volume of his voice growing as his anger did. “I will not marry a lady I do not even know because my brother has behaved unforgivably! It is unconscionable!”

“I know,” his father said, his voice tinged with desperation. “I know that what we are asking is brutally unfair. But I do not know what else to do, Alex. There is no other alternative. If we do not provide an acceptable alternative to George for Lady Charlotte, we will be ruined. Our family will be blackballed from the ton. Your mother will not be able to go out in public. Your sister will never be able to marry well. You and I will be shunned. And while I know this is your brother’s fault—while I know that I should have heeded the warnings you put before me—I am asking you now to be the one who saves us. Please, Alex. Do this for your family. Without you, we are all ruined.”

Alex looked away. He knew that everything the duke was saying was correct, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. His father was asking him to marry a woman he barely knew, to commit the rest of his life to someone who might be wholly incompatible with him, and all because he hadn’t listened to Alex before it was too late. 

“Please, my love,” the duchess whispered, and Alex’s eyes snapped to hers. She had stopped crying, and she was now looking at him as if he were her savior himself. “You have always been my responsible, dutiful son: the one who puts the family above himself. Now, your family needs you more than ever. We are begging you: save us from your brother’s terrible choices.”

Alex wanted desperately to remind his mother that she had encouraged these terrible choices, but he held his tongue. Now wasn’t the moment. 

His throat tight, he nodded curtly. As he did, his father’s expression changed from one of desperation to one of relief. 

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” he asked at once.

“Let us speak to Lord Brentwood first,” he said. “He will have to agree to the plan as well. But if he agrees, then yes—” dread bloomed in Alex’s stomach, and he felt as if a heavy weight had been set over his shoulders, “I will marry Lady Charlotte Tate.”

 

Chapter Two

“Oh Lottie, you look absolutely beautiful!” Lady Charlotte ‘Lottie’ Tate’s closest friend, Miss Sarah Lockhart, gushed as she took in her friend standing atop the pedestal in the center of the modiste’s shop. In fact, as Sarah’s eyes swept over Lottie, they even filled with tears. “My goodness, you are a vision! Lord Courtenay is going to adore you in that dress!”

“I very much doubt that,” Lottie said, turning back to the mirror and casting a critical eye over her appearance. “Don’t get me wrong, I do look rather fetching. But George has never shown any particular interest in my appearance, and I have no reason to believe he will start on our wedding day.”

“Oh, Lottie, shush with that kind of talk,” Sarah said, glancing nervously around the modiste to see if anyone was listening. Fortunately, they were alone in the shop. Even the modiste, Miss Arquette, had stepped into her office to look for a yard of lace she hadn’t been able to find, leaving Lottie and Sarah alone. “People will gossip if they think your bridegroom is reluctant to marry you!”

“Let them talk,” Lottie said, shrugging as she turned back to her friend. When Sarah continued to look scandalized, Lottie sighed and shook her head. “Come, Sarah, don’t act shocked. You know I’m not particularly happy about this wedding. I only agreed to it because it made my parents so happy to see me wed to the son of a duke. If they hadn’t been so keen on the match, you know I would have refused it.”

“I know,” Sarah said, biting her lip. “But I thought by now that you might feel a touch more excited. And I thought seeing yourself in your wedding dress would stir some feelings of bridal pleasure!”

“Then you don’t know me at all,” Lottie said, giving Sarah a wicked smile. “I’d much rather be getting fitted for a traveling cloak that I could wear as I set out for the continent than a wedding dress. As lovely as the gown is, of course.”

She brushed her hands over the layers of fabric, admiring the silky feel of the fabric under her fingers. It was a lovely gown, and she knew it had cost a fortune as well. Far from wanting to be ungrateful, Lottie knew that her parents were pulling out all the stops when it came to this wedding, and she wanted to show her appreciation.

In their minds, they were giving her the best life possible: wealth, security, and a handsome, charming, titled husband. It wasn’t exactly Lord and Lady Brentwood’s fault that they didn’t know how much Lottie longed for a different kind of life. She had never had the courage to tell them that she would rather go on the Grand Tour of Europe than marry a duke’s son. Not that it mattered.

Unmarried young ladies were not allowed to go on Grand Tours of Europe unless invited by an elderly and eccentric aunt. And Lottie didn’t have any eccentric or elderly aunts, so she was getting married instead. 

There were worse men, she supposed. Lord George Courtenay was perfect on paper: good-looking, affable, and well-connected. He’d always been kind to her, if a bit distant. She had never seen any real display of affection from him, but then again, she had never been expecting a love match. They were rare among the ton. 

“I know you wish you were marrying someone who thought more similarly to you,” Sarah said after a moment, her gaze sympathetic. “But perhaps Lord Courtenay is more open to travel than you realize! He is wealthy, anyway, and I’m sure that he will take you to the continent if you ask him to.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Lottie said, her heart sinking. She had tried to ask George about his interest in travel, but so far, she hadn’t gotten a straight answer. From what she could tell, he preferred to be in London. “I am a member of many clubs here,” he’d said to her. “And I shouldn’t like to abandon them for too long.”

Lottie turned back to the mirror and tried to hide the disappointment and dread that was building inside of her. You still have two months until the wedding, she reminded herself. Two months to get to know George better and convince him to take you abroad. 

All would be well, she told herself for what felt like the hundredth time. She was lucky, after all. Not every young lady got a match as envied as she had. 

Why, then, do I wish I could refuse the match and run away? 

However, she didn’t voice this out loud. She knew it would only trouble Sarah to hear her thinking such thoughts. 

“I think I’m ready to return home,” she said out loud instead. “Will you fetch the modiste and ask her to help me change out of the gown?”

Sarah nodded and stood, making her way to the back of the shop and leaving Lottie alone with her increasingly despondent thoughts.

***

Lottie was lost in these thoughts all the way back home, so much so that when the carriage arrived in front of the house, she didn’t even notice the other carriage parked in the drive embossed with the Ducal Uppington seal. It wasn’t until she was ushered into the hall by the butler that she noticed, from the troubled look on his face, that something was wrong.

“You’re needed in the drawing room at once, My Lady,” the butler said as he took her pelisse. 

“What is it, Mr. Brown?” she asked, peering at his lined, worried expression. 

“I’m not sure, your ladyship,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. “All I know is that the Duke and Duchess of Uppington are here, along with the Marquess of Underwood.”

“The Marquess?” Lottie repeated, unable to hide her surprise. “Don’t you mean Lord George Courtenay?”

“No, Your Ladyship. It is the marquess.”

“I…see.” Although, in truth, Lottie didn’t see at all. Why would the marquess be visiting me? She had only met George’s elder brother a half dozen times, and each time, she had felt a profound discomfort in his presence. He always put her on edge, and the odd feeling would last hours after he was gone. Perhaps it was the fact he never said much.

He seemed brooding and bored all the time, which irritated her. He was a first-born son, a future duke. What did he have to be brooding and bored about? His position and power gave him enough wealth and privilege to travel the world, to be independent and free—all the things that she would never get. And it bothered her that anyone would take that for granted. 

She headed down the hall, her trepidation building. The marquess also always made her feel nervous, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. But as she neared the drawing room, her nervousness built—and not just because of him. There was something odd about this whole thing. The Duke and Duchess of Uppington visiting with their eldest son and without her fiancé just didn’t feel right. 

Lottie pushed open the door to the drawing room and stepped inside. The moment she did, all heads turned to look at her, and she was struck by the grim expressions on every single one of them. 

All except the Marquess of Underwood. He was leaning against the hearth, a nonchalant air to him, and as she took him in, Lottie couldn’t help but notice how tall and handsome he was.

His wavy brown hair looked a little longer than usual, and it framed his strong jaw, aquiline nose, and dark brown eyes, which were fixated on the ground. Everyone else was watching her with an intensity she found discomfiting, but the marquess, apparently, couldn’t be bothered to even acknowledge her presence in the room. 

He’s probably bored already from having to be in the same room as me, she thought with irritation. 

“Charlotte,” her mother, the Countess of Brentwood, murmured, standing and coming over to her. Lottie turned her attention to her instead, forcing herself to look away from the marquess. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Lottie repeated slowly. Her mother’s expression was a mask of worry, while her father looked closer to anger. The Duke and Duchess of Uppington, meanwhile, both couldn’t quite make eye contact with her, which seemed to indicate some kind of shame or guilt. 

“What is going on?” Lottie asked as her mother took her hands. “There is an air in the room as if someone has died.” Her stomach jolted, and her lips parted. “Good gracious—someone hasn’t died, have they?”

“No one has died,” her mother said quickly. “But there is something very serious we need to speak to you about.”

“I think it should be His Grace that tells you,” her father said gruffly. He was standing behind the sofa where her mother had been sitting, his arms folded across his chest. At his words, his eyes flashed with anger, and the duke and duchess both shrank back slightly. 

For a moment, no one said anything. Lottie looked around the room, waiting. At last, the duke motioned at the sofa in front of him. “Why don’t you sit down, Lady Charlotte.”

Once she was seated, she looked back up expectantly at the duke. He took a deep breath, blinked slowly, and then spoke in a low, shaking voice. 

“There is no easy way to say this, so I shall just say it plainly: George has eloped with another woman.”

Lottie had spent so much of her life training to be the perfect lady that even as shock radiated through her, she managed to keep herself from gasping or gaping at the duke like a fool. Still, it was difficult to hide the emotions that were bubbling up inside of her.

Surprise was clearly at the forefront of them, and also fury: how dare he humiliate me like this! But underneath that, she could also feel the flicker of relief—and that was certainly one emotion that she would have to keep under wraps. 

“With whom did he elope?” she asked after several long, painful seconds of silence. She was proud of how calm her voice remained, of how poised she sounded, even as she was being informed that her fiancé had jilted her. 

“An opera singer,” the duke said.

“An opera singer,” she repeated, disbelieving. “Not a lady?”

“Not a lady,” her father echoed, his voice laced with venom. “Which is why I do not believe Lord Courtenay intends to marry her. Who ever heard of a duke’s son marrying an opera singer? No doubt she is merely his mistress!”

“In the letter he wrote to us, he said his intention was marriage,” the duke said, sounding extremely distressed. 

She glanced at the marquess. He was looking away out the window now, a small smile playing across his lips. He certainly knew about the opera singer, she thought suddenly. And yet he let his brother make a fool of me. 

“Was the woman your son’s mistress?” The countess demanded. “Are we to understand that the relationship was known about before the elopement and that you did nothing about it?”

No one from the duke’s family said anything, and the silence told Lottie that they had, indeed, known about the opera singer. 

Her father seemed to have come to the same conclusion because he puffed himself up and asked furiously, “So you were allowing your son to marry my daughter while he was keeping a mistress on the side?”

“George said he would end the relationship,” the duchess said desperately. “He promised me he would.”

“Well, he is clearly a man fond of breaking promises,” the earl muttered. “As are you and your husband. You are under contract to marry your son to my daughter, but now, I suppose, you will be going back on your word.”

“No,” the duke said quickly, and he looked from the earl to Lottie. “We have a solution.”

Lottie blinked in surprise. For the last minute, she had been feeling an ecstatic sensation take hold of her body—she wouldn’t have to marry! At last, she would be free to pursue the kind of life she wanted. But now, as she stared at the duke, the feeling of dread returned to her. 

“What kind of solution do you have in mind?” she asked with forced calm. 

“You will marry our eldest son, the Marquess of Underwood, instead,” the duke said. He was smiling now—tentatively, it was true, but still smiling—as if he had just proposed something that ought to fix everything. 

Behind her, Lottie felt, rather than saw, her parents exchange a look. She was sure she knew what they were thinking: It is an improvement! But even as her father made a sound of surprised delight, Lottie’s heart sank.

If she hadn’t been excited about her marriage to George, whom she had at least gotten to know during the courtship, then she was even less excited by the prospect of marrying his older brother, whom she barely knew.

“Oh, Charlotte!” She heard her mother exclaim. “You would be a duchess!”

Her father, meanwhile, had moved around the sofa and was staring down at the duke with dubious intensity. “Are you quite serious about this, Your Grace? You never before offered your eldest son for our daughter; why are we to believe that you would want to now?”

“Well, we must!” the duke said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “If we do not, then our family will be ruined—as will yours. We feel a deep responsibility to you and your daughter. It is our son who has caused this scandal, and his actions that threaten to ruin your daughter. We cannot have that. It would be in violation of our code of honor, not to mention a gross neglect of your daughter’s wellbeing.”

The earl said nothing for a moment. He turned back around to look at his wife, and Lottie caught the look that passed between them: This is the opportunity of a lifetime. We would be fools not to take it. 

Lottie, meanwhile, was still frozen in place, reeling from what the duke had said. As her father began to bluster about how difficult it would be to rearrange the marriage contract—which she knew was simply him trying to act as if he wasn’t as pleased as he actually was—she glanced sideways at the marquess. He was no longer looking at her. Instead, he seemed fixated on the hearth, which he was gazing at as if lost in a trance. 

He’s not even looking at me! She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. They wanted her to marry a man who wouldn’t even look at her when their engagement was announced?

“I can’t do it,” she said softly but firmly. Around her, everyone was still speaking loudly, and she looked up, her eyes narrowing as she repeated herself. “I won’t do it.”

Slowly, the din of conversation came to a halt as everyone turned to look at her—everyone except the marquess, who was still staring at the hearth, his look of boredom having only intensified. It was enough to make Lottie even more furious, although she worked to hide her anger. 

Instead, she looked around at both sets of parents, who were now watching her with wide eyes. “I was just humiliated by Lord Courtenay,” she said. She didn’t raise her voice, but she knew that her tone brooked no opposition. “And now you expect me to simply marry his brother? Why? Because it will save the Uppington reputation? Why should I care about that after what your family has just done to me?”

The duke’s mouth opened slightly in shock, but she plunged on, ignoring him. 

“Does anyone care what I think? I am the injured party here. And yet, no one has bothered to ask me what I want.” Standing, she smoothed down her skirts and stared boldly around the room. “I would wager to guess you haven’t asked the marquess what he wants, either. Because he clearly doesn’t want to marry me, either. He isn’t even looking at me. He has barely looked at me ever since I came into the room. That is no way for a gentleman to act towards the woman he intends to marry.” 

She glared at him, and at last, he turned to stare at her, his brow wrinkled in surprise. For a second, she felt a small glimmer of satisfaction that she had gotten to him. 

“Do you have anything to say, my lord?” she asked the marquess. “Anything at all?”

He blinked, and although his lips parted, he said nothing. After another moment, she shook her head. “I thought not.”

Turning back to the duke and duchess, she dropped into a quick curtsy. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m sure you can understand my point of view. I bid you both a good day.”

And she swept from the room without another word, looking every bit the calm and collected woman she had always forced herself to be—even though, on the inside, she was seething.