How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,51
much less to a duke.”
“Nonsense. Marriage and the position of duchess, would have been the making of you.”
Sarah sighed and lost herself in private thought, wondering where Leonard had got to—was he with Maria? Her hands trembled, but she hid them in the folds of her dress. Hopefully her father would be more receptive—more pleased with her transition from a spoiled child into a woman who was ready to get married and take her place in Society. A duchess…she’d never dreamed it possible after Leonard had put her off the first time. She smiled.
“Sarah?” her mother said in a chastising tone. “Why do you simper?”
“Simper?”
“Yes, you heard me correctly.”
She shrugged. “I am happy, Mother.”
“Happy? Whatever for?”
“To be here.”
“Well, that is about to change, my dear.”
Sarah cast her mother a wary glance. “Why? In what way?”
“Well, just as soon as we have recovered from our journey north, we shall journey south again to London. Your father has found a most eligible gentleman who might well be induced to offer for you.”
I am already engaged to the duke! She bit back the frustrated retort, for after all, Leo wished first to speak to her father as was only proper. Still, this reunion with her mother was hardly going the way she had hoped.
“Who has he roped in now?” she asked lightly.
Her mother frowned at such levity. “Lord Greythorpe. A widower, it is true, but there were no children of his first marriage.”
Sarah stared at her. “Greythorpe? But he is a friend of Papa’s! He is old!”
“He is two-and-forty,” her mother said tartly. “Hardly in his dotage! And it seems to your father and I that you will do better with an older man, who will sober you.”
A wave of revulsion swept over Sarah. But again, she swallowed back her anger. “We may discuss it further in London, if the matter arises,” she said peaceably and was rewarded by Lady Whitmore’s smile of approval.
The front door banged open and closed again, presumably Sarah’s father retuned from his walk.
Lady Whitmore rose from her chair. “Ah, there is his lordship. Shall we return to the castle, Lady Drimmen? Sarah, we look forward to seeing you and Miss Hammy at tonight’s soiree.”
Chapter Sixteen
When Sarah and Hammy arrived at the castle, at least Lady Drimmen found nothing to criticize in her daughter’s dress. Well, not beyond, “The gown needs jewels, garnets perhaps.”
“I have little jewelery in Whitmore,” Sarah replied.
“The simplicity suits you perfectly,” Lady Whitmore assured her.
Across the room, Leonard stood by the table displaying the items he had dug up. He was in earnest conversation with a group of interested people, and Sarah’s heart swelled. She would have liked to exchange smiles with him, just to give her courage, but he did not glance in her direction.
She moved instinctively toward him, but her mother, sounding shocked, said, “Sarah, you will stay by me.”
Oh, yes, the world had intruded upon Whitmore, confining her in the ways she could never bear. At least as a married woman she would have freedom to walk across a room to speak to whoever she chose.
As Sarah stood restlessly beside her mother, even Hammy, with a small, apologetic smile, escaped across the room to her Mr. Granville. Examining the objects on Leonard’s table, his face lit up in a spontaneous smile as she approached, and he walked forward to meet her.
“Does Miss Hammond usually put herself forward in such a manner?” her mother asked disapprovingly.
“She is greeting an old friend, Mother,” Sarah said patiently. “She hardly needs to play duenna when you are here.” She turned to smile at her friend Jenny and Jenny’s brother Charles, and present them to her mother.
For a few minutes, the conversation flowed, and Lady Drimmen glanced between the three younger people looking almost baffled.
“I heard a rumor you would sing tonight,” Charles said to Sarah.
“If anyone wishes me to, I am happy to oblige,” Sarah said at once. “But tonight, is devoted chiefly to His Grace’s discoveries.”
“Talking of which,” Jenny said, “shall we go and look at them?”
Sarah glanced at her mother, who condescended to agree, and they made their way toward the display.
Lady Drimmen held Sarah back a moment, glancing toward Charles. “My dear, is that the heir to—”
“Yes,” Sarah interrupted. “But we do not mention such matters here. As far as identity goes, we acknowledge only what an individual tells us. I am Miss Sarah, only, and Miss Hammond is Miss Hammy.”
“Ramshackle,” Lady Drimmen pronounced. “Though I suppose I am glad the world does