seat, and, lucky for the three of them, riding backward didn’t bother her. It would have been too embarrassing to have to force the caravan to stop so that she could empty the contents of her stomach on the side of the road.
Not that she’d eaten much since she’d agreed to Culpepper’s plan, not even twenty-four hours before, at the Averleys’ ball.
Dancing with Culpepper, who was now her betrothed, had been a dream. As he’d led her onto the floor, she’d felt jealous stares from every lady in the room—particularly, Miss Rachel Somerset, who’d been setting traps for bachelors left and right all spring.
Of course, the duke was an excellent dancer, and each time she was handed to him again, he’d offered her a new compliment.
He’d procured a plate for both of them, and she hadn’t minded at all that he’d not known her favorites. He would know them soon enough. As they sat across from one another at a cozy table in the supper-room, he’d occasionally met her gaze meaningfully. Even now, she enjoyed the thrill she’d felt in those moments.
When the other guests began drifting back into the ballroom, he had asked her to walk outside in the garden. Exactly as she’d hoped.
“I’d like that very much,” she’d answered.
It was meant to be.
Because fate had stepped in, and Stone Spencer had been nowhere in sight!
Free from Mr. Spencer’s stifling presence, Tabetha had allowed the duke to guide her outside onto the terrace, and then along a shadowed path.
“Are you enjoying the Season, My Lady?”
“Immensely.” She’d glanced sideways at him and batted her lashes before dropping her gaze in a coy manner. “And you, Your Grace?”
“How could I not, when I’ve had the benefit of making your acquaintance?” They conversed thusly until they’d arrived at un unlit section of the garden, where he’d drawn her off the path and then taken her into his arms.
This was the moment she’d waited for all her life. She’d been certain he’d been going to ask permission to meet with Westerley and ask for her hand.
“If we leave for Gretna tomorrow morning, we could be married and back in London in less than ten days.”
“I—pardon me?” She could not have heard him properly.
When he’d repeated himself at her request, she’d thought he was joking.
But he had not been.
Tabetha shivered and snuck a quick glance across the carriage.
She inspected his profile as he stared out the opposite window. It was a magnificent profile, indeed. He was so very aristocratic in every way.
His proposal had not been romantic, nor had it been properly done. He should have dropped onto one knee and asked her to make him the happiest of men. He should have gazed up at her adoringly when he’d posed the question, and of course, he should have spoken with Westerley first.
But he was a duke. She would become a duchess!
Of course, she had agreed. What had there been to think about? Declining his proposal wasn’t something she had even considered.
She had accepted him and then lifted her chin and allowed him to kiss her. Her first thought was that his mouth felt dry and pinched. Cool, bloodless. And although she’d parted her lips slightly, he’d made no attempt to deepen it.
But she had not hated it.
Although she did hate that Stone Spencer’s questions from earlier had taunted her. Marrying a duke was precisely what she wanted. No doubt she would have preferred that Culpepper declare himself head over heels in love with her, but he was merely treating her respectfully.
Culpepper had ended the kiss abruptly. “I’ll send a carriage for you before dawn. Can you be waiting outside?” He’d been nearly breathless when he’d asked her this. As though he was afraid she would change her mind.
“With my maid?” Emily, who was ten years Tabetha’s senior and particularly loyal to her mother, might make this somewhat difficult, but ultimately, she would support the elopement.
Because once Tabetha was the Duchess of Culpepper, Tabetha’s maid would be elevated as well. Emily would become the lady’s maid to an actual duchess.
Tabetha had imagined herself a duchess since… well, for as long as she could remember.
Not this precise scenario, she conceded. She would have far preferred Culpepper obtain permission from her brother and that they had the banns read. That would have allowed her almost a month to gloat, to accept the congratulations of her peers at a flurry of ton events.
She’d imagined a grand ceremony at St. George’s. Not like Bethany’s, where the church had