Page 17 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Jo remembered the first time she and Lilly had met Charles. Jo and Lilly had been outside the British Museum, and Lilly had been discussing the remodeling and expansion that needed to be completed since Britain had been acquiring so many pieces of historical and artistic significance from all over the world.
Charles, who’d been accompanying his sister Martha to the museum, had joined the conversation, claiming an interest in architecture that, Jo shortly realized, was more of an interest in hearingLillytalk about architecture.
The four of them had spent the afternoon together, first Lilly describing how she’d personally expand the British Museum, then Martha taking them to a basement office nearby to view Egyptian artifacts she had been cataloguing for the renowned antiquarian, Mr. de Havilland.
Sparks had crackled between Lilly and Charles from the moment they’d met, and by the end of the afternoon, Lilly had shared every design in the notebook she’d brought with her, and Charles had promised to call at their house to see the rest. The way Charles had watched her all afternoon, the way they’d talked together…the attraction had been so instant and so strong, it had been nearly palpable.
“Because I must marry someone else,” Charles said now.
Jo took a measured breath, her hands clenching into fists so tight, her nails dug into the skin of her palms. “That. Is not. An answer.”
He shook his head helplessly. “I love her. I do.”
Jo scoffed. “Someone who loved Lilly would never treat her like this. She is the loveliest, kindest, most pure-hearted girl, and you have broken her heart.”
He blanched.
“Tell mewhy, Mr. Cherrington. I won’t stop pestering you until you do. Did you meet someone else? Are you inconstant?” She leaned forward. “A liar? Acheat?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “No! I— Well…yes. I suppose I am all those things. Maybe… I don’t know. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Explain,” Jo demanded.
He opened his eyes. Swallowed again. “Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to marry Miss Appleby. Please tell her that as well, because it is true. Seeing her here tonight… Her eyes. I know she has been weeping.” He shuddered, his own eyes glistening. “I love her. Nothing I’ve ever said has been truer.”
“And yet, you led her on. Deceived her. Courted her under false pretenses. Gave her false hope.”
“I didn’t mean to! I was… I was carried away. We both were.”
Jo narrowed her eyes. “How do you mean?”
“It was so perfect, being with her, I didn’t think—”
“Think about what?”
“How marrying her would be impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He pressed his lips together and looked away, his face crumpling in shame.
“What is it?”
“It’s… It’s just that… I have five younger sisters.”
“I know that. What does that have to do with anything?”
“None of them are married, and I am the head of the household.”
She knew that, too. His father, the third son of an earl, had died a few years ago. “And?”
He folded his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. “My father inherited a decent living from my grandfather, the Earl of Wydwick. But he lost it all in drink and gambling before he died. Nearly every penny. Now we are…” He drew in a shaky breath. “Now, we are quite… We arequite…” He closed his eyes and whispered, “Impoverished.”
And, just like that, clarity rushed in. Jo’s fists opened, her fingers relaxing at her sides.
Lilly was impoverished, too. She had nothing. No dowry, no income. She had nothing to bring to a marriage but her spirited, lovely, brilliant self.
Lilly was the daughter of a Nottingham linen merchant who had been a part of Jo’s father’s flock at St. Nicholas Church. Papa had seen a spark of something in Lilly when she was about nine years old and had invited her into their house to be educated alongside Jo.
