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She gave him a brief smile, slipping the pouch into her pocket. He hoped the money would help her build a better life, for herself and her son.

Mary glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. “Uh-oh. That’s her, the woman he was going to marry. Poor thing. Do you think she’s very broken-hearted?”

Stephen followed her gaze, spotting Beatrice Haversham in her hideous wedding dress, striding purposefully towards them.

“I fancy she’ll recover very quickly.”

“I hope you’re right, Your Grace,” Mary mumbled. “Goodbye.”

With that brusque parting word, Mary and her little boy departed, never once looking back.

Stephen turned to face Miss Haversham. Miss Havershamstill.

“You did it,” she said, as soon as she was close enough. “I can’t believe… I didn’t think… Well, I…”

“You did not think I was coming,” he finished. “Yes, I can see why you would believe that. But here I am, and you are free.”

“Yes, free.” She gave a small smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Stephen fiddled with his cuffs. He hadn’t meant to have this conversationquiteso soon, but then, there was no time like the present.

“There is no need to thank me,” he said carefully. “My service is to be paid for with a favor, yes? A favor which I am about to call in.”

Her smile wavered. “Oh. Well, that would be ideal. Best to get it out of the way at once, yes? That way, we don’t have to see each other again.”

He tilted his head, regarding her. Was it his imagination, or did she seem almostcrestfallenat the idea of notseeing him again?

Certainly my imagination. The woman must hate the sight of me. Which is rather unfortunate, I must admit.

Seeing herwas pleasant enough. She was not the sort of woman he would usually admire. He preferred statuesque beauties, tall, imposing women who knew what they wanted and how to get it. Miss Haversham, while remarkably pretty, was something else.

Not that her bosom was not magnificent, of course. And her facewaspretty. And he would rather have a woman with shapely curves than the waifish, stick-thin beauties that were so fashionable these days.

This was, of course, irrelevant.

“You must be relieved to be free, Miss Haversham,” he said, mostly to distract himself fromungentlemanlythoughts. “Do you plan to spend your life as a spinster?”

She blinked up at him. “Well, I don’t know. I never imagined spending my whole life alone. Now that Anna is married, and Henry is busy with G—” she cut herself off, swallowing the end of the sentence.

As if I don’t already know that Henry is in love with George the painter.

Stephen didn’t say it, though. Such rumors could be dangerous.

“I don’t know,” she repeated when she’d composed herself. “I haven’t thought about it. What favor did you want, then, Your Grace?”

Stephen let out a long sigh, glancing around. The stream of people leaving the church had begun to thin out, and none of them had glanced their way, too busy chattering about the shocking event. Itwasan event to remember.

“The thing is, Miss Haversham, I want a bride.”

CHAPTER 5

Beatrice stared up at the Duke, bewildered. He only stared back at her, his expression blank as always.

And then, in a sickening rush, she realized.

“It’s a joke,” she murmured. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? Who’d want to marry me, is that what you are saying? You are an awful man,Your Grace.”

She made to spin on her heel and march away, but he grabbed her wrist and hauled her back.