Page 19

"It is rather urgent," she continued, "so make sure the Duke reads it at once. I do not know how you will make sure of that, but I know you can. I shall be waiting down here for his reply."

The young man nodded rapidly before rushing off.

Lavinia bit down on her lower lip. While she was nervous about this harebrained scheme, there was also a tendril of excitement she didn't want to examine too closely.

Exactly half an hour later somewhere in Mayfair, a butler walked into a sitting room with three occupants, "Letter for you, Your Grace," the slender, elderly man announced.

Victor reluctantly dragged his gaze away from the newspapers he had been reading.

"Put it away with the rest of my correspondence," he nodded towards the endless stack of letters lying in a silver tray in the hallway.

"This letter is from a lady and her footman is waiting outside to convey your reply," the butler clarified.

The two women in the room glanced up sharply, their amber eyes shining with curiosity.

"Oh let me read, let me read," Georgie tossed her embroidery away like it was trash and from what The Duke could see, her work deserved to be in the bin.

As the younger woman reached for the letter, he snatched it away from her reach. "Did no one teach you that it is bad manners to snoop into someone's letters?"

She pouted at him, but it was his mother that responded, "I believe that was one of the many things you failed to teach her."

The Duke ignored her and grabbed the letter opener.

"Who is it from?" his sister asked, "I did not think you were interested in any of the ladies."

His mouth pulled up at one corner, "who said anything about the sender being a lady?"

"Victor!" His mother hissed, looking utterly scandalized, "How dare you?"

"Relax, Mother. It was just a joke."

"It wasn't a very funny one," the dowager duchess retorted.

The letter was simple to the point.

Your Grace, I have thought about it and my answer is yes. Can we meet up to discuss further?

A slow smile took over his expression as his gaze ran over her swirly penmanship for the third time. She was truly the most unpredictable woman on earth. When he had come up with this sudden plan, he had expected her to fall to her knees with appreciation for considering her to be his duchess.

Instead he had gotten a cutting glance and an accusation.

He hadn't thought she would accept, not in a hundred years and yet, here was the evidence. He only imagined what had pushed her into suddenly changing her mind.

The Duke decided he would find out the reason why when they met.

Grabbing his pen, he quickly scribbled down his one line of reply, folded back the letter and handed it to the butler.

"You mentioned that the footman was waiting for my reply."

"Yes, Your Grace," the butler bowed and walked out.

"What is that smile all about?" his mother asked, eyes narrowed on him.

The Duke hesitated, wondering if he should inform his mother about Miss Proctor before he had spoken with her. But then again, she had agreed, had she not? The only thing left was to iron out some terms for their association and then they could go public with the announcement.

There was nothing to it than for the dowager duchess to start getting used to Miss Proctor.

"You will be glad to know that I have managed to secure a bride, Mother," he announced with a gleam in his eyes.