Her Favorite Duke (The 1797 Club #2)(5)

Even now, as he caught her staring, he shifted with discomfort under her attention rather than seeming pleased with it.

“Do you need something?” he asked, ever solicitous. Her friends were so very jealous of that fact. “A drink? Some air?”

She sighed and looked out of the corner of her eye at Simon again. He was laughing and she wanted to slap his pretty dance partner right across the face. “Yes,” she said. “Air, I think, would do me good.”

He nodded, taking her arm and guiding her through the crowd and out onto the terrace. He released her immediately, and she walked to the terrace wall and drew a few long breaths to steady her nerves.

Then she faced her fiancé. He wasn’t looking at her, but worrying a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve. She took the moment to really observe him. Once upon a time, she had liked Graham a great deal. She’d considered him a friend, and once she’d resigned herself to their engagement, she had hoped she would one day see him as more.

But it had been seven years and if anything, they had only drifted further and further apart. They did not talk beyond the surface of most subjects. They did not laugh. And he certainly never made any attempts to touch her or to kiss her.

When she lay in bed at night, it wasn’t him who visited her in her dreams, either. That was Simon. Still and always and forever. She hated herself for it, more than she hated any woman Simon had ever paid attention to for more than a few moments. She hated herself because she knew her feelings for Simon were wrong.

She cleared her throat and stepped closer to her fiancé. “James and Emma seem very happy,” she said.

He lifted his gaze and his lips tilted ever-so-slightly in a soft smile. A true smile, and her heart softened a bit toward him. Graham had always loved her brother. That she appreciated more than anything.

“They do,” he said, looking back over his shoulder to the ballroom, where James was dancing yet again with his wife. “Despite all the drama that led up to their union, I cannot imagine he ever could have found a better match than he has in her.”

“You know I agree with that. I adore Emma, I’m so pleased to have her as a sister. And they are the first in our set to marry, and their true happiness is a good example for us all.”

He looked at her briefly, then back toward the ballroom. “It does make one think,” he mused.

She faced him. “Think about what?”

He pressed his lips together and his hand wavered at his side, like he was thinking of taking hers but then changed his mind. “James wants us to marry.”

She nodded. “Yes. Hence, the arrangement.”

He shifted, his expression suddenly one of frustration. “No, I mean, he has spoken to me about it a few times since he wed, himself. His being settled seems to have increased his drive to see our engagement come to its conclusion.”

Meg caught her breath. She’d only been sixteen when she and Graham’s contract was signed. No one had expected them to wed immediately. But the years had slipped by and somehow she’d let herself be lulled into the safety that the marriage would never actually come.

Now it seemed Graham was about to change that.

“We’ve been engaged a long time, Meg,” he said.

She could hardly breathe, but somehow she managed to croak out, “Seven years.”

He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes. “Christmas.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“What do you think about marrying at Christmas? On my estate, with our friends and family in attendance?”

Meg’s lips parted. Most women in her position would be thrilled at the idea of finally wedding their duke. Most would be even happier that he wanted a date that was only a few months away.

But to her, his words felt like a noose. Inescapable. Inevitable.

“Yes,” she choked past a closed throat as tears stung her eyes. “That would be lovely and it gives me enough time to plan. Plus, it will be before Emma’s baby comes, so she and James should still be able to travel.”

Graham stared at her a long time, almost like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he bent his head and any attempt to make a connection with her was gone. “All right. I’ll go in and speak to James about it. Will you join me?”

She shook her head. “No, I-I’d like to be in the cooler air a bit longer. I’ll return shortly.”

“Very good,” he said, then turned away from her and walked into the ballroom, leaving her alone on the terrace.

She slipped away from the main area, around the corner of the house to a darkened corner outside an unused parlor. There a small table and chairs were set. She sank down into the seat and rested her arms on the table. Then she put her head down and began to weep.





Simon shut the terrace door behind himself, then sucked in a great gulp of cool air. Since his conversation with Kit, he had felt this weight pressing down on him, crushing him. He hardly recalled the last twenty minutes. Hardly recalled the dances or his partners.

He didn’t recall anything except for the pounding refrain that echoed in his head. Margaret. Margaret. Margaret.

He deserved to be called out for his obsession. He deserved to be abandoned. And yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her.

“I should leave,” he murmured. “Go away for a few months or a few years.”