Page 8 of His Temporary Duchess

Mrs. Bennett dropped into a curtsy. “Until tomorrow, Your Grace.”

Sebastian knew how to make himself agreeable—in fact, it was one of the things he had spent the past decade doing—and as he promenaded through Hyde Park with a Bennett girl on either side of him, he went out of his way to charm them.

Each, particularly the two eldest, proved themselves delighted with his attentions, talking over one another in an attempt to secure his praises. The third sister walked beside the second—he could not, for the life of him, remember their names, though it hardly mattered—and Miss Eleanor Bennett followed a few paces behind. That was the position her stepmother had commanded she take, and she hadn’t demurred even for a moment.

Although he outwardly appeared to be flirting heartily with the elder Miss Bennetts, he had his attention fixed on the oldest. Just as he had suspected at the house, she appeared shy, not venturing forth so much as a word, and accepting the muttered criticisms of her stepmother with an air of resignation.

Fascinating.

It was precisely what he had been looking for: a lady who would bow to his every command. One who would inevitably fold and agree to end a marriage between them. Not one of these social climbers by his elbow, seeking to be the wife of a Duke, irrespective of whether they felt desired or accepted.

“What do you think, Your Grace?” Annabel asked, fluttering her eyelashes and glancing up at him with such a cloying expression of adoration that he briefly contemplated throwing himself into the Serpentine to see whether she might show a hint ofanytrue emotion.

“I think whateveryouthink must be right,” he instead smiled, and she giggled, accepting his compliment at face value without considering that he had not been listening to a word she had been saying for the past five minutes.

“I don’t know why His Grace required you to be here, but you are not to speak with him unless spoken to,” Mrs. Bennett scolded Miss Eleanor under her breath. “And do not so much as look at him unless absolutely necessary. You must do nothing to put him off marrying one of your half-sisters.”

“Yes, Stepmother.”

“And stop fidgeting. For heaven’s sake, girl, did no one ever teach you any manners?”

Given he’d had his solicitor give her the family’s history, Sebastian knew for a fact that if anyonehadbeen responsible for teaching the girl manners, it would have been the current Mrs.Bennett, who had married Mr. Bennett when Miss Eleanor was just two years of age.

The girl, however, did not mention this fact, and remained mute.

She truly wasperfectfor his grand plan. So effortlessly cowed, she would be easy to intimidate, and very little trouble. After all, he had more than enough experience in pushing people away. His bride would not be the first; nor would she be the last.

“I believe we’ve promenaded enough for one afternoon,” he said, guiding the two sisters on his arm in a circle, back toward his waiting carriage.

Mrs. Bennett hurried forward, leaving Miss Eleanor behind to follow at a more measured pace. “Have you decided, Your Grace?”

He smiled to himself. It was often said that he delighted in causing mischief and mayhem. Perhaps that was not always true, but today it most certainly was. “I have indeed,” he said. “But I wish to declare myself properly, and not in public, if you please.”

Mrs. Bennett flushed with pleasure, exchanging a speaking look with her eldest daughter. “Of course. Let us hurry and return. Come, Eleanor. Don’t hold us up.”

Sebastian kept up his flow of easy conversation, made harder because of his companions, until they finally reached theBennetts’ household. Once in the drawing room, he removed his hat and gave them all a benevolent smile.

Now to set the cat among the pigeons.

“As you know,” he began, “my father asked me to find a bride from amongst Mr. Bennett’s daughters, and after some consideration, I believe I know whom it is I would like to marry.” He glanced across their faces until he found Miss Eleanor attempting to sneak from the room. “Miss Eleanor Bennett, there you are. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Eleanor twirled to face the Duke in mute horror. She felt a little as though she were underwater, submerged in her bath as she sometimes did when she felt the weight of her worries too strongly. Surely he could not be asking her to be hisbride.

Surely.

Surely.

“You!” Margaret screeched, descending to Eleanor with her clawed hands outstretched like the bird of prey Eleanor so often felt she resembled. “How could you?”

“Now, now,” the Duke said, taking a step forward. Eleanor could only blink, wishing this awful nightmare would end so she could wake up. “The lady has not answered me.”

“Of course she will not marry you, Your Grace!” Margaret shouted. “You would not want her to—if she has behaved in a way that is inappropriate for her station, you may be assured that she will be adequately punished, but you must not feel obliged to—”

Eleanor’s cheeks heated. Did Margaret somehow know about the kiss? And was a kiss alone enough to provoke a Duke into offering marriage?

“Are you implying that if I were rogue enough to seduce the daughter of a gentleman, I should not offer her my hand in marriage?” the Duke asked blandly. “I must be mistaken.”