Page 50 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

T he world was a confusing rush of colors for Emily. Without her spectacles, even the familiar faces of her family were difficult to pick out from the crowd. It sent a rush of anxiety through her, which wasn’t particularly easy to hide.

And a tall, dark-haired blur was now coming towards her, and she had a nasty suspicion that it was the man she was meant to marry.

She squinted, and was able to make out a little more of his features.

She knew that he was a handsome man—if that counted for anything—with a mop of dark hair and green eyes fringed with long, dark eyelashes.

He was something of a dandy, it was said, with the finest clothes in London, but he managed not to be ridiculous about it.

He gave a brief bow. “My apologies for disturbing you. I imagine you have a great deal to reflect on.”

He had a deep voice, cultured and even. Some might even have described it as pleasant.

“Yes,” she responded at once. “A great deal, indeed.”

She was having difficulty focusing on his face, and that would continue until she could go home and get her spare spectacles, which had to be left behind out of necessity.

Her poor eyesight left her with a feeling of vulnerability that she did not like much.

Not to mention the fact that hers and Daphne’s rapid change of costume meant that she still had her hair done up in the elaborate bridal style, with pins digging into her scalp.

If the duke noticed her discomfort, he did not let on. They had met briefly, but not enough to actually spend quality time together. She knew nothing about the man.

“I thought perhaps we might talk some things over,” he said equably. “I don’t know about you, but now I have a whole day to spend as I wish.”

She did not smile. “What do you want, Your Grace?”

Get to the point, you wretch.

He tilted his head to the side. It made him look like a curious bird. “I’m sure you must have guessed by now that a mistake has been made, Miss Belmont.”

She tightened her grip on her bouquet. At some point, somebody had knocked into her and crushed the bouquet. Some of the flowers had half-snapped stems, the blooms tilting sadly to one side.

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” she said, as evenly as she could.

Perhaps he wouldn’t notice how bad her eyesight was.

“I am referring, of course, to your twin sister taking your place at the altar,” the duke responded sweetly. “It would have ended badly had I not noticed. Why, the marriage would likely have been annulled. I doubt that your sister’s reputation would have recovered.”

“As it is, it may not recover now,” Emily snapped.

Inside, however, she was beginning to panic.

What had she been thinking? She should never have let Daphne take her place. Oh, it was beyond foolishness.

The period before the wedding was something of a blur to Emily. She remembered her breakdown, the tears, the numb feeling as though she were becoming slowly paralyzed. And then Daphne’s voice, cutting through it all like a light through the fog.

“It’s not too late. It’s never too late. I’m not going to let you do this, Emily.”

And then they’d switched gowns, and Daphne had strode ahead to the church in her sister’s wedding finery, ready to embrace her fate instead.

And Emily had just watched Daphne run away. She just stood there.

Am I a coward? Daphne certainly isn’t. Is this how I’m fated to live my life, then? Quietly accepting whatever comes along?

“I’m sure your sister would have caused a scandal one way or another,” the duke remarked, his gaze lingering on her.

She wanted to shiver, not sure if she wanted him to continue looking at her with that intensity or whether she wanted to hurl something heavy at his head. Perhaps both?

This close, she could make up a little more of his features.

He was handsome. Not that Emily put a great deal of store on looks.

Her eldest sister, Anna, was a great beauty, and so was Daphne.

Emily was pretty enough— of course she was, for she had the same face as her twin sister—but somehow less so.

Her hair was dark and glossy, her eyes large and an idyllic shade of blue, and aside from that, her features and Daphne’s were even and pretty.

However, one had no control over one’s looks any more than one had control over one’s eyesight. Emily couldn’t recall a time when she had not had to wear her round, wire-rimmed spectacles, or a time when gentlemen and ladies looked at them as if they were some kind of great stain on her beauty.

As if she cared. At this moment, she would have happily sacrificed all of the pearl studs in her hair to get her spectacles, so that she could look this man in the eye properly.

“My sister is my dearest friend,” Emily shot back. “You rejected her.”

“Well, the banns were read for a different woman altogether.”

She folded her arms, abandoning the bouquet altogether. “How did you know about my eyes? We’ve scarcely met.”

He shrugged. “My cousin reminded me. Which brings me neatly to the main point. I asked my cousin to take care of the details of our arrangement. He is a dear friend, although a tad overzealous at times. I believe now that he did not go about it in the right way.”

Emily stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“He sent you a letter with my seal. My proposal, if you will. Can you tell me exactly what was said?”

Wordlessly, she fished in her sleeve.

It was a mistake to bring the letter here, but lately, Emily had been in a real panic about it. What if one of the maids found it, or her ever-meddling mother? Octavia would think nothing of going through her daughter’s things.

She handed the letter over to the duke, who unfolded it. She squinted, watching his sharp eyes skim over sentence after sentence. His mouth tightened.

“Hm. I see. What would one call a letter like this?”

“Blackmail,” Emily answered shortly. “It is blackmail. I am to marry you, or my secret is out. That is what your cousin said—the man who calls himself a gentleman.”

The duke winced, carefully refolding the letter and handing it back to her. “Careless, careless.”

Hope jumped in Emily’s chest. She eyed him closely.

“Just a moment…” she trailed off, studying his face. “I don’t believe for an instant that your cousin would have taken such a liberty. I think you knew about my secret , as you so nicely put it, and you were about to let him do the dirty work of forcing me down the aisle.”

The duke stared down at her, something like surprise on his face. And was that admiration? No, surely not.

“You’re a clever girl, Miss Belmont,” he said briskly. “I had hoped Richard would be a little less forceful. The letter reads like a bailiff’s notice. Where is the charm ?”

“Charm? Charm ? The subject remains the same. You insist on me marrying you in exchange for keeping quiet about… about my secret. Tell me, Your Grace , what is so repulsive about you that prevents you from finding a wife the ordinary way?”

Anger boiled up inside Emily. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and her empty stomach growled. She tasted bile.

Taking a step forward, she glared up into the duke’s face, daring him to answer.

He was handsome—not that it meant a thing. In her experience, handsome men were just as likely to be cruel as plain ones, which the Duke of Clapton was demonstrating very nicely.

Even so, there were plenty of ladies in Society who did not care about that sort of thing. They would happily snap up a duke of any age without regard for looks, and the duke was… well, he was pleasant to look at if one liked that sort of thing.

The most handsome blackmailer I have ever seen.

He held her gaze for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

“How forthright you are, Miss Belmont. My cousin mentioned that your sister was the firebrand, but I feel that you are every bit as fiery, and distinctly prettier. My reasons for seeking a wife are, after all, my own, but perhaps I have resorted to such a method because timing is an issue.”

She blinked, trying to understand. “Timing? What, are you dying of consumption?”

That did not earn her a smile.

“Very amusing, Miss Belmont,” he said dryly.

“I want a marriage of convenience. I don’t care to fall in love.

It seems like a nasty business, with a great deal of risk involved.

I never was much of a gambler. If you had married me, we might have gone about our own lives without bothering each other in the slightest.”

“I could never live the life I wanted with a man who threatened me into marriage,” she snapped.

Far from being offended, he only smiled.

“ Persuaded , my dear. Persuaded into marriage. And I’m sure you would manage quite nicely. You do enjoy your peace and quiet, don’t you?”

She took a moment before responding.

“You know so much about me,” she murmured. “Why take so much effort to learn about me, only to blackmail me?”

He shrugged. “I like to understand my rivals.”

“But I am not a rival. I am your bride-to-be. Or at least, I was,” she corrected. “I think it’s safe to say that the wedding is off now.”

He looked sharply at her, and she realized in a rush that it was not over. Not by a long shot.

“Oh, my dear Miss Belmont, this is a mere hiccup in our wedding plans,” he said, his voice even and unconcerned.

“There’ll be a small delay, but you and I shall trip down the aisle together once more.

Hopefully, next time you will wear your spectacles.

I daresay you’ll enjoy the ceremony much more if you can see it.

This embarrassment, you know, will not affect me very much.

As a man and a duke, my reputation is unharmed, and any humiliation will roll off my name like water off the back of a duck. ”