The Inconvenient Duchess

standing in the hall as his signet rolled across the floor popped into his mind. ‘Yes, there is something. I need a ring. A wedding ring. We married hurriedly and she deserves better than my temporary solution.’
    The jeweller brought forth a prodigious tray of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and plain gold bands. He stared over the selection, but none of them reminded him of the strange white-faced girl he had left behind in his home. Then he smiled up at the man in front of him. ‘Do you have any sealing wax?’
    The man disappeared into the back room of the shop and returned with a lump of casting wax and a candle.
    Marcus melted the stuff on to the counter in front of him and plunged his signet into it, leaving the clearly defined mark of the crest imbedded in it. ‘That is what I would like for her. On a plain gold ring, but to fit a woman’s finger.’
    ‘Unorthodox, Your Grace.’
    ‘But it will suit her better than these baubles.’

    His last stop was the family solicitor. Claude Binley looked at him over the stack of papers on the desk and pushed his spectacles further down his nose.
    Marcus grinned at him in response. ‘How are things progressing?’
    ‘That would depend, your Grace, on the point of view. From my position, they are progressing much too quickly.’
    ‘Too quickly? But successfully, I trust.’
    The solicitor nodded. ‘I have made arrangements for the licence. I have altered your will to reflect the marriage. I have settled accounts at Boodle’s and White’s for Sir Anthony Grey.’
    ‘And you can expect to see some additional bills from a dressmaker and a jeweller,’ Marcus added.
    Claude sniffed his disapproval.
    ‘Is there some problem with funds?’
    ‘No, your Grace.’
    ‘It would hardly do to let my duchess sit in rags, Claude. Money will have to be spent.’
    ‘May I speak frankly, your Grace?’
    ‘Not if you insist on calling me “your Grace”. We have known each other since childhood, Claude.’
    ‘Very well, Marcus, since we have known each other so long. I remember your first wife, and the speed with which you courted and wed her. And I remember the details of the union and the result. I would hate to see a repeat of that mistake.’
    Marcus felt his spine stiffen. ‘I don’t think it would be possible to repeat a mistake quite that substantial.’
    ‘I see similarities.’
    ‘And what might you think they are?’
    ‘A woman you barely know. Recommended to you by your mother. A sudden marriage. And distinct signs that you have a head full of clouds. Lavish gifts. The refusal to heed the counsel of those around you. Heroic measures on your part to rush to the aid of a damsel in distress.’
    ‘But Miranda is nothing like Bethany. And my mother, should she have lived to see her, would have been appalled.’
    ‘To marry her in spite of your mother is no different from marrying with her consent. You are still leg-shackled.’
    ‘And you have been in that state for nearly fifteen years, Claude. Is it not time that I joined the fraternity of the married and settled?’
    ‘Certainly. But not in this way, Marcus. Perhaps to this girl, if you are so set upon her, but not until matters in her own family and yours are properly resolved. You know nothing of her except what you have been told and yet you are willing to believe what is a most extraordinary story. And you do not doubt her honour. Time alone will prove that. Even a few weeks might confirm—’
    ‘That the next duke will not be some other man’s bastard?’ His voice was ice now. ‘Thank you for the warning, Claude. But take care. You are speaking of my wife.’
    ‘Who was raised by a wastrel and a slut.’
    Marcus rose out of his chair, ready to challenge, to fight.
    Claude stood against the threat, unmoved. ‘I speak the truth, though you don’t want to hear it, your Grace.’
    Marcus sighed. ‘And I, Claude, am the son of a drunkard and a shrew. Perhaps we are well suited after all. For, if parentage matters so much, then I am not such a great bargain, but for the title. My last wife was raised by exemplary parents. Her family history was without blemish. And in the end, it made no difference.’
    Claude sighed. ‘Yes, your Grace. And it has hardened you to good advice. Now you will do as you will do, no matter what I might say to the contrary, for you have a head harder than a paving stone. I pray that you are right and wish you well.’

Chapter Fourteen
    ‘Y our Grace, did you purchase