Page 8 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke
She took a rather hefty gulp of coffee to put an end to the discussion.
Lady Arundel appeared very disappointed indeed, though she was quickly distracted as more of her guests entered the room. As she stood up and hurried to greet them, her manners as overenthusiastic as ever, Keith looked at Lady Celia.
Could it be that he had been placed next to the very woman who could get him out of a sticky situation?
He had to marry, that much was plain. Having now inherited a dukedom and a deteriorating estate, he was running out of money.
I never thought I’d marry.
He glanced at his mother, still remembering the years of misery he had seen her suffer, married to his cruel father. Witnessing such desperate sadness was the reason he had vowed never to bind himself to a woman for life.
He knew his nature. He was not an easy man. Ill-tempered, quick to judge perhaps, he would make a woman as miserable as his mother had been.
“All that has to change now.”
His mother’s words from three days ago came back to him. When they had become aware of the dire financial situation of the dukedom, their hands had been tied.
“Without a woman’s dowry, how are we supposed to restore this estate to what it should be?”
It mattered to his mother. Now that she was free from the bonds of her marriage, she wished to return to her home and make it what it had once been.
Keith glanced at Lady Celia again. Being attracted to her was a distraction, but she could still serve her purpose.
Clearly, she was aware of his look, for she glanced sideways at him.
“Ye can keep the shirt, by the way,” he whispered, for her ears only.
“I cannot.”
“I require something else in return for not letting ye drown.” He leaned toward her an inch more. “Meet me in the garden in ten minutes.”
CHAPTER 3
“Who is he?” Celia hissed as she followed Violet and Grace outside.
They hung at the back of a group who had been summoned to the gardens, ready for a rather exuberant tour of the plants led by Lady Arundel. Celia glanced about the gardens nervously, wondering when the Duke of Hardbridge was going to make an appearance.
“You have heard nothing of him?” Grace asked, clearly finding the idea amusing. “How strange. I heard Lady Arundel talk of little else but the eligible Duke of Hardbridge last night. I suspect she intends to marry off one of the young ladies here.”
Good. At least she will not bother trying to marry me off then, for I am quite the spinster these days.
“What did she say about him?” Celia couldn’t help but ask as she raced to catch up with the others in the garden.
Violet’s smile caught her eye, but Celia looked away fast.
“You’re curious about him?” Violet asked.
“As a person is curious about a passing fly, perhaps,” Celia said dismissively. “So? What did she say?”
Neither Violet nor Grace looked convinced by her words, but they answered her question all the same.
“He is Scottish,” Grace began.
“He was a Scottish laird,” Violet cut in.
That explains the slight accent.
“Wait… a laird?” Celia said in amazement.
Table of Contents
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- Page 8 (reading here)
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