Page 67 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
It did not surprise Jo that Charles had chosen a seat next to Lilly at the top end of the U-shaped table. He was downright jovial tonight, a complete reversal from his demeanor at the Dickersons’ soiree. Unless he’d been buried in a hole for the last two weeks, he certainly knew that the Duke of Crestmont was courting his sister—talk of it was all over London. Perhaps the idea that the duke might marry his sister was giving him hope of having Lilly back in his arms. Still, he should be at least a little cautious—there was no marriage yet, not even a proposal.
Jo herself wasn’t confident everything would work out as she’d planned. In fact, she was more nervous about this match than she’d been about any of the dozens she’d made before, even Mr. Pellegrini’s, and she probably should have been nervous about that one.
Jo sat at the other end of the table from Charles and Lilly, deliberately sliding between Martha and Harriet, who sat at the end of the bench. Suddenly in high demand, thanks to the attention she’d been receiving from the Duke of Crestmont, Harriet had been managing her newfound popularity with aplomb. No less than a dozen lords and ladies paraded past their box to greet her before the food even arrived. Harriet was unperturbed by all the attention, unfailingly gracious and charming.
Matthew would approve. He would think she wasperfect, Jo thought, the word crashing like a stone through the window of her heart.
The Cherringtons were generous and very welcoming. Charles was devoted to his sisters, and they doted on him in return. The fact that he had brought his sisters here instead of carousing with other young bucks like most gentlemen his age were wont to do increased Jo’s respect for him.
As the meal drew on and Lilly leaned against Martha, both of their shoulders shaking with laughter, it struck Jo that Lilly had already been accepted as a member of their family.
Jo was—and always would be—the outsider of this group. If Lilly married Charles, she would have five sisters to confide in. She’d live in their house and see them every day.
Jo would be left alone in Beaumont Street.
She ground her teeth. Why did her thoughts keep veering into self-pity and melancholy?You must stop this, Jo, she commanded herself.At once.
Shewouldn’tbe alone. Mama and Bess and Mrs. Ferguson were in the house in Beaumont Street. She would miss Lilly, but she adored the three other women in her life, too.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Jo leaned over and, speaking directly into Harriet’s ear so she could be heard above the crowd and the music, asked her, “How are things progressing with the Duke of Crestmont?”
Pink suffused Harriet’s cheeks. She patted her delicate handkerchief to her lips, then said, “They are progressing very well, I think.”
“That’s good to hear.” She hesitated. She might as well be out with it. “Do you like him, Miss Cherrington?”
“Oh, yes, I do. Immensely. He is very courteous.”
Jo thought of his hands on her…between her legs. She could think of many words to describe the Duke of Crestmont.Courteouswas not one of them.
There were so many other words that fit him so much better.
Jo picked at the deliciously salty ham, wishing she and Harriet were alone in a quiet room, but it could not be helped. This—here in the middle of Vauxhall Gardens surrounded by thousands of people—would have to do.
She laid down her fork and turned to fully face Harriet. “I believe the duke is considering a proposal.”
At first, Harriet didn’t react at all. She continued chewing on her slice of buttered bread and then chased it with a ladylike sip of punch before pursing her lips—the stuff had a sharp tang of lemon. After the tartness passed, she turned to Jo, smiling. “That would be wonderful.”
Would it, though?
Harriet was an enigma—so hard to read, and Jo usually had a talent for deciphering what her clients truly thought of one another. But her whole being was deep in the forest of this situation, caught in such a briar-filled tangle, she had lost her way through.
“Do youwishto marry him?” she managed.
Harriet circumvented her question. “He is a wonderful man, and I am so honored by his attention. My family will benefit greatly if I were to marry him.”
Jo nodded. That part was a given.
“Charles will be absolutely delighted.” Harriet gestured down the table to her brother. “Look at him. He was struggling under the weight of our family’s…situation, and now, renewed hope has allowed him to push his worries aside.”
If Harriet loved the duke, she’d be talking about how happy she was about a potential proposal, not about how happy herbrotherwould be. Jo finally understood exactly how this would go. For her family, Harriet would marry the duke with a smile on her face. She’d hold her head high and be his perfect duchess.
But she didn’t love him.
Still, Jo had to be sure that the disaster of what had happened with Mr. Pellegrini would not happen again. “If he offered for you, would you accept?”
She held her breath, but Harriet didn’t take long to answer. She gave a gracious smile. “Of course. I would be honored to accept a proposal. But I dare not expect such an outcome.”
Jo studied her closely. On most highborn ladies of theton, such modesty was an affect—fake and insincere. But on Harriet, it seemed to be real.
