style="font-size:15px;"> ‘She is the perfect choice to become Duchess of Lyonsdale.’ A lump settled in Julian’s throat, as if blocking the words.
Silence.
‘The perfect choice for who? For your mother? For the Lyonsdale Dukes lying in your family’s crypt? She certainly is not the perfect choice for you.’
Julian stopped and rounded on Hart. ‘She is the perfect choice to bear the next Duke. She is the perfect choice to bear my son.’ The words tasted false even as he spat them out.
‘And what if you only have daughters? Will it still feel as if you made the perfect choice in choosing Lady Mary?’
He needed to speak of something else—anything else. He had regained his political clout. His opinions had weight once again. That was what mattered in life. That was the life his father had led.
‘Morley approached me last night at White’s. He wanted my views on the fate of the Hudson Bay Company when the Anglo-American Conference convenes. I’m assuming he holds substantial interest in the company and is concerned his investment may suffer.’
‘So now you have become a respected voice on the facts behind the upcoming negotiations between Britain and America? Interesting how you were able to achieve that.’
Julian refused to look at Hart, and instead ripped off another leaf from the hedgerow. ‘I find I’m becoming more and more interested in the matters that need to be settled between our two countries. It is in our best interests to try to achieve amiable relations with them. We need the trade, and that last war with them cost us unnecessarily.’
‘Perhaps you have found your purpose. Each of the Lyonsdale Dukes is known for something glorious. Improved Anglo-American relations might be your achievement. A bitter irony, it seems.’
Julian glanced over at his friend and caught the mocking glint in his eyes. This time Julian grabbed an entire stem from the hedge and pulled all the leaves off. They fluttered to the ground, unwanted. With each step the sound of crunching gravel was loud over the silence that stretched between them. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he would forget her.
Hart adjusted his lazy lock of hair. ‘She is here. I spotted her earlier today up at the house.’
Julian’s dying heart stirred. ‘I told you I have no wish to ever discuss her again.’
‘I have not mentioned anyone by name.’
Julian glared at Hart, and he was wise enough not to make any further comment.
Hart’s attention followed the new group of leaves that Julian was yanking from the hedgerow. ‘Hipswitch’s gardeners might take umbrage at your pruning techniques.’
Damn the gardeners!
Julian clasped his hands behind his back. Hart would never understand that Julian couldn’t even say her name without causing a stabbing pain in his chest. He knew that eventually she would be a distant memory. There would even come a day when he’d wake up and not recall her face. His stomach churned at the notion.
‘Well, this should improve that pained expression of yours,’ Hart said. ‘It’s the woman you’ve been so eager to see.’
Julian closed his eyes. He prayed he would remain composed when he looked at the lovely woman he could not have. Taking a deep breath, he followed Hart’s gaze—and froze when he spotted Lady Morley, walking towards them across the lawn with a determined stride.
The maze was not too far ahead. Hopefully he would reach it before Lady Morley caught up to them.
* * *
Helena settled onto a bench facing the entrance to the Hipswitch maze and opened her grey silk parasol, sharing the shade with the Duchess of Skeffington. The day had been fruitless so far. The only other eligible duke who wasn’t decrepit was a recluse who never came to London. She had no chance of securing him, and the thought of sharing her marriage bed with a wrinkly old man, even if he was a duke, made her stomach turn.
Today she was focusing her quest on finding a marquess. It was possible Lord Boreham had enough funds to be the answer to her prayers. She was rapidly running out of money. She needed to work quickly, but she had yet to see him.
Her friend adjusted her gloves with a satisfied smile on her face. ‘I believe Lord Andrew missed his target today because he was distracted by my presence.’
The only reason Lord Andrew had missed the target was because he’d sneezed at an unfortunate moment. When would Lizzy learn that this brother of the Duke of Winterbourne had no interest in her? The poor, deluded woman.
‘I asked Olivia if she thought her brother-in-law would be attending the Finchleys’ masquerade,’ continued Lizzy, ‘but she informed me she isn’t privy to Lord Andrew’s schedule and walked off rather abruptly. That was rather rude, was it not?’
‘Olivia and Winterbourne barely speak to one another. What would make you believe she would know what his brother does? Lord Andrew has made no advance towards you in ten years. Do you truly believe the man is attracted to you in any way? He barely acknowledges you.’
Lizzy huffed and turned away. ‘Have you chosen a costume for the Finchleys’ masquerade?’
This was Lizzy’s latest way of reminding Helena that she was the one married to a duke. She knew Helena had no association with the Finchleys.
She could go to the devil!
‘No, I’m afraid I’ve not been invited.’
Lizzy’s eyes grew wide with false innocence and she blinked. ‘Oh, forgive me. I was certain you would have been. The Marchioness is usually so generous with her invitations. The Americans are even invited. I wouldn’t have broached the subject if I’d thought an invitation had not been extended to you. That would have been most unkind of me.’
‘And you are all that is good and kind,’ Helena replied in an overly sweet manner.
‘My, you are in a foul mood today. If you’d had a desire to attend all the most sought-after pleasures of the Season perhaps you should have married a man who had a better standing than the one you did.’
‘It wasn’t as if I had a choice.’
‘Well, you should have selected a more discreet place for your romp with Wentworth, then.’
‘How was I to know that that area of his father’s estate had a riding path not far away? I thought he would have had more sense.’
‘I really did believe when we came out together you were going to be the one who made the best match. You were the most sought-after girl that Season. Well, there is no going back. You should try to improve your station now, at least.’
As if she hadn’t been trying for the last five years!
She had done everything possible to marry a marquess or a duke. And all her efforts had exploded in her face.
Lord Blackwood had even had the nerve to laugh at her when she’d reminded him that he’d promised to wed her if she helped him remove Lady Caroline Shaw from his son’s life.
