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“I will wear what I wish!”

“Why can’t you be more like your sister!”

“Do not bring me into this!” the third woman, presumably the sister for she was a spitting image of Miss Gouldsmith, shouted.

“Will the three of you please keep it down!” There was a fourth woman, heavily pregnant, sitting on a couch and in tears. “All this shouting is bad for the baby!”

“Tell her that!” Miss Gouldsmith decreed, pointing an accusing finger at her mother.

“That dress! You will go up and change right now. Before the Duke arrives – think of your sister! This is her day! You will embarrass her!”

“I do not mind,” the sister said. “What do I care what Isabella wears?”

“See!”

“Please!” the pregnant woman wailed. “Peace and quiet! The baby! I cannot... I cannot... oh!”

I have wandered into the gates of Hell.

Duncan stood frozen in the doorway. Wide-eyed. Mouth hanging agape. Caught between announcing himself and fleeing the scene as if his life depended on it.

Before he was able to come to a decision, however, the dowager viscountess caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes then went wide, her mouth dropped open, she spun about quickly, and then did what she could to straighten up, to silence her daughters, and to appear as if Duncan had not just witnessed the beginnings of a war that had the potential to consume all of London.

“Your Grace!” she cried out. “My apologies! I did not realize the time!” She rushed toward him, patting down her gown, before offering a deep curtsey. “I had meant to wait for you outside.”

“It is quite alright...” He spoke carefully, eyes flicking about the scene; the pregnant woman was still sobbing loudly, the two sisters still standing back.

“And further apologies for what you just witnessed,” the viscountess continued. “One pregnant daughter and another more stubborn than a mule, and it makes for hostile viewing...” She attempted a nervous laugh. “But I assure you, this is far from the norm.”

Doubtful.

“I am certain that is the case.”

She smiled and offered another curtsey. “I was so glad to receive your letter yesterday evening, Your Grace. Truly, it is an honor for you to even consider my daughter as you are.” She spun about, facing her two daughters. “Louisa! Will you --” She widened her eyes at her daughter, Louisa. “Here, now girl.”

Louisa frowned at her mother. “Why me?”

“Why do you think!” The viscountess then turned back and smiled apologetically at Duncan. “It has been a bit of a rush this morning. We have hardly had time to prepare – not that we are not grateful, and eager. As I assure you, my daughter Louisa is very much.”

Duncan looked past the viscountess at her two daughters and immediately saw the look of triumph in Miss Gouldsmith’s eyes.They danced with victory and then she stood straight, hands behind her back, making sure that he took note of her dress...

The dress was highly inappropriate. The neckline was plunging, and the waist was so tightly cinched that her chest threatened to spill out. Even more scandalous than the previous one that she had worn, it was clearly chosen for a purpose. And it sent Duncan’s pulse racing.

“Forgive me, Lady Langham, but I believe there must be some sort of mistake...” He pulled his eyes from Miss Gouldsmith... and that dress! “It is not your daughter, Louisa who I wish to marry.”

The viscountess blinked. “Excuse me?”

Duncan groaned and rubbed his eyes, the frustration starting to build. “I had assumed – I was under the impression that your daughter might have by now explained to you the circumstance that has brought me here this morning.”

Still, the viscountess looked confused. “According to your letter, you wished to speak with me about my daughter. The implication, as I read it, was that you may be interested in courting her. A surprise, to be sure, but not an unwelcome one. And I think you will find that Louisa is --”

“Again, there is the mistake. It is not your daughter, Louisa to whom I was speaking of.” He caught Isabella’s eyes, and she flashed them at him; the delight only too clear. “It is your other daughter, Isabella who I was speaking of.”

The viscountess's mouth dropped. “Isabella? Are you certain?” She turned and looked at her daughter as if she could not believe it. “But... but... but how?”

“And it is not a courtship which I am interested in.” He made sure to be looking right at the viscountess so there could be no mistake. “I intend to marry her.”

“What?!” The viscountess spun around. “Isabella! Explain yourself!”