A Valentine from Harlequin

her, too.
    “The duke is coming to dinner again.”
    “So I heard from the downstairs maid.”
    Dulcie chewed her lip and gazed at her beseechingly. “Charlotte, do you really not want to marry him?”
    “No.” Not now. Not under these circumstances, although there had been a time…. “I do not understand why he doesn’t just let Uncle Malcolm sue him for breach of promise. I am more than ready to give evidence that I would be pleased to release him from his promise, such as it was. He can afford a good solicitor and surely that has to be more appealing to him than continuing this sham.”
    Obviously relieved, Dulcie’s words came out in a torrential rush. “Papa thinks if the duke keeps coming here and you don’t see him, but he sees me, he might…that is, he might change his mind about marrying you and ask to marry me instead. He’s threatened to sue the duke, not to ensure you marry him, but to keep him coming here.”
    Charlotte stared at her, confused—and yet, knowing Uncle Malcolm and his crafty mind, this could very well be true. “If this is so, why are you telling me, Dulcie?”
    Her cousin straightened her slender shoulders and her doelike brown eyes shone with more resolve than Charlotte had ever suspected she possessed. “Because I like you, Charlotte. You’ve been like a sister to me, and I don’t agree with Papa’s plan.”
    Charlotte’s heart swelled. She had no idea Dulcie cared for her so much and she hurried to embrace her. “I appreciate your affection, and your honesty, Dulcie,” she murmured, while also cursing herself for ever thinking ill of her cousin. “If you can win the duke’s heart, you are welcome to it.” She silenced the nagging little voice in her heart that told her she was lying. “And you are kind to tell me that I am but bait.” She drew back and regarded Dulcie gravely. “Shall I end this charade, then?”
    Just as grave, Dulcie nodded. “Yes, please. If I cannot attract his notice by better means, I do not deserve it.”
    * * *
    Listening at the top of the stairs, Charlotte hurried toward the drawing room the moment she heard the butler usher James toward it. Dulcie would be at least another hour dressing, her uncle several minutes. This was her best chance to have a private word with the duke.
    Despite her determination, she hesitated on the threshold when she saw him. He had one arm draped across the ornately carved marble mantel and was staring at the flames in the hearth, a look of such despondency on his face, she could scarcely believe this was the arrogant James Ellery.
    All this time, she thought he must be enraged over the situation, or disgusted, or frustrated. She had never imagined he would ever feel despair, about anything. She had always believed him different from John in that, as well.
    He must have heard her, for he looked up, and was immediately once more the coolly indifferent nobleman. “So, you have finally decided to venture down from your tower, Rapunzel.”
    She perched on the scarlet velvet seat of a gilded chair. “You must ignore my uncle’s threat of a lawsuit and stop coming here.”
    “Perhaps it amuses me to allow people to think I have a vestige of honor, after all, by agreeing to marry you,” he said as he sat on the brocade sofa opposite her.
    “He doesn’t really want to sue you.”
    That caused the duke to raise an inquisitive brow. “Then he is a finer actor than I gave him credit for, for he certainly conducts himself as if he does.”
    “He wants you to fall in love with Dulcie, and he thinks the threat of legal action, which compels you to appear to be engaged to me, and which therefore requires you to call here, is an excellent way to throw the two of you together.”
    For a moment, James looked incredulous, then his lip curled in a sneer. “He does, does he?”
    “Now that you know that, you can drop this pretense of an engagement between us. I’m sure once he understands you cannot be bullied, he will reconsider suing you.”
    “My reason for continuing to call here has little to do with any man’s ability to bully me, and more to do with my enjoyment of your discomfort that this engagement causes you—some small recompense for the pain you caused my brother.”
    Annoyed that he persisted in blaming her for his brother’s death, she jumped to her feet, her hands balling into fists at her side. “How many times must I tell you I did nothing to cause him pain? I was as shocked as anyone when