door.
“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Royal paused at the sideboard and poured himself a liberal shot of brandy, which seemed to be a habit these days. “She’s beautiful. I can hardly argue with that.”
He had just finished luncheon with his aunt, his future bride and her mother, an affair that seemed to have no end.
“Your father certainly came through for you.”
Royal took a swallow of his drink. “He certainly did.”
Sheridan tipped his head back, studying Royal down the length of his slightly too-long nose. “She certainly won’t be a burden to bed.”
“I’m a man. She’s an extremely beautiful woman. It will hardly be a burden.”
Sherry eyed him shrewdly. “All right, so what is it you don’t like about her?”
Royal blew out a breath, raked a hand through his dark blond hair. “Nothing. At least nothing that would keep me from marrying her. It is merely that we share very few common interests.”
“What does that have to do with anything? You will marry her, bed her and she will give you children. On top of that, you will have the luxury of making every man in London jealous of your incredibly beautiful wife. Along with that neat little package, you will also gain control of her incredible dowry and very sizable inheritance. What more could any man ask?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, I guess. Jocelyn will make the perfect duchess, just as my father said.”
Royal took another drink, set the brandy snifter down on his desk. “Apparently, she’s a very good horsewoman. After her rest, I’m showing her a bit of the estate.”
His future bride seemed to require a good deal of rest, he thought, sleeping late in the mornings, then napping half the afternoon. He tried not to think of Lily, working dawn till dusk to prepare the house for her cousins. When she wasn’t moving furniture or seeing that the rugs were beaten, she was fashioning bonnets for her wealthy clientele. He couldn’t remember Lily every complaining about being tired.
“So she likes horses, does she?”
“Apparently.”
“There—you see, you do have something in common. Tell me, how do you think she feels about you?”
How did Jocelyn feel? He wasn’t sure. His future wife wasn’t an easy person to read. Either she was good at controlling her emotions or she didn’t have any.
“I don’t know her well enough to tell. Perhaps she will open up a bit more this afternoon, when we are away from her mother.” They would be riding with a groom, of course, since neither Mrs. Caulfield nor his great-aunt Agatha could act as chaperone. He was actually looking forward to the ride, hoping he would discover something in his bride-to-be that would draw them together.
Sherry sank into one of the leather chairs in front of the fire, draped a long leg over the arm. “Well, if you decide you don’t want her, let me know. I’ll be happy to act as a substitute groom.”
Royal grunted. “I thought you wanted Lily.”
Sheridan grinned, exposing his crooked bottom teeth. “She doesn’t come with a fortune, my friend.”
Royal downed the last of his drink. “That I should marry Jocelyn and rebuild the Bransford fortune was my father’s dying wish. I promised him I would see it done and there is nothing on this earth that could stop me from keeping my word.”
Sherry rose from his chair. “Then I shall hold good thoughts for you this afternoon. May you find in your delectable companion whatever it is you seek in a suitable bride.”
Royal gave a faint nod of thanks, knowing Sherry meant every word. He was a man whose friendship Royal valued greatly.
“I suppose I had better go out to the stable and find the lady a suitable mount. Thank God my father didn’t sell all of his blooded horses.”
“One last piece of advice?” Sherry offered, not really seeking his permission. “Kiss the lady. That ought to give you some idea of how the woman feels.”
Royal smiled. It wasn’t a bad idea. As Sherry followed him out of the study, Royal thought that for once he might actually heed his friend’s advice.
“Help me with the buttons, will you, Lily?” Jocelyn presented her back then stood impatiently as her cousin buttoned her sapphire velvet riding habit. It was cut in the military fashion, with rows of small brass buttons marching up the front. Jocelyn had only just received it, along with her latest order from the modiste. Lily had fashioned the matching miniature top hat, which Jocelyn thought complemented the outfit quite nicely.
She settled it at a jaunty angle on top of her head, pinned it in place and pulled the tiny scrap of veil down just enough to cover her forehead.
“How do I look?” She turned to give Lily a better view.
“Hold still.” Lily walked over and shoved a pin into Jocelyn’s hair, fastening a stray curl in place, then stepped back to assess her. “You look perfect. The duke will not be able to take his eyes off you.”
Jocelyn frowned. “Do you think he is truly pleased with me? It is difficult to tell how he feels.”
“The man is a duke. He is trained not to show his emotions. I am sure that is all it is. This afternoon, he will have you mostly to himself. Perhaps he will let down his guard a bit.”
Jocelyn certainly hoped so. She had been sure the duke would be far more impressed with her than he seemed to be. He hadn’t made one comment about her beauty, as most men did. In fact, he seemed to have only marginal interest in spending time with her.
Perhaps he was simply busy with his affairs. His estate was vast. There was surely a good deal to do to keep it running smoothly. Today would be different, she told herself.
“Have a nice time,” Lily said as Jocelyn made her way toward the door.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
“You know I don’t ride very well. Besides, this is your chance to get to know him.”
Jocelyn nodded. She was looking forward to the afternoon, of course, but there was something about the duke that made her nervous. She flirted and teased as she usually did, but he seemed to pay little attention. At luncheon she had told a very funny story about a house party she had attended where one of the chambermaids took a tumble down an entire flight of stairs and landed in front of very proper Sir Edward Marley.
Instead of appreciating her humorous tale, the duke had asked if the woman had been seriously injured.
“I was trying so hard not to laugh I didn’t notice,” she had replied. The duke made no comment.
He was waiting for her in the entry, she saw as she descended the stairs. He was certainly handsome enough, dark blond and fair and amazingly masculine, considering the beauty of his face.
“The horses are waiting out front. I’ve
