Chapter 2

Chapter 2

W illiam Breckenridge, Duke of Thorne, lounged near a large floor to ceiling window in the Marquess of Pemberton's library as he awaited an audience with the lord. With his gaze trained on the door, he straightened his cravat.

What the devil was keeping Lord Pemberton? His butler had shownWilliam to the library upon his arrival. Now more than twenty minutes had passed, and William detested waiting.

William stood and turned to gaze out the window as he wondered how long Pemberton would keep him in suspense. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, contemplating.

After William's fifteen-year absence, he didn't suppose he had any grounds for complaint, regardless of how long it took the marquess to appear. Patience is a virtue, he reminded himself. Cliché, but also true.

Releasing a breath, William turned his thoughts toward his purpose for being here. He could not help but marvel at the fact he'd finally come for his bride. He'd always known he'd marry. As a duke, it was his duty to do so. But he'd not been in any hurry to see it done. Rather, he resented the fact that his life had been arranged.

But now everything had changed. William needed to claim his wife with all due haste and could only hope Pemberton felt the same way. That the man would turn his daughter over, honor their agreement without issue. Could William blame him if he refused?

And what of the lady?

Surely Lady Olivia would pose no objection, for what woman did not dream of her wedding day? She'd probably spent most of her life wishing he'd arrive and waiting to call herself duchess. After all, the two of them had been betrothed as children. Their lives all planned out and handed to them on silver platters.

William had long detested the fact that when the time came, he would have to take the mousey chit to wife, and done all he could to resist and delay. How odd that he now found himself grateful for the arraignment.

With his parents passed on and three sisters to care for, he desperately needed a woman's guidance. Not for himself, but for his hellion sisters. Two of whom were of an age to have their come outs. A neatly packaged wife would suit his needs. Save him from all that awaited.

A shiver of repulsion went through him. He could not imagine having to escort his sisters around to countless balls, soirees, musicals, and such. He scarcely believed himself capable of guarding and guiding them.

Hell would be far preferable.

Though his worries did not begin and end with the social aspects of his sisters stepping into society. No, they were more profound than that. His sisters required a mother figure to guide them and see that they had the things young ladies needed. Someone to keep them on the right path. A lady they could look up to. One they could take their troubles to.

A portrait of a young girl caught William's attention, and he strolled across the library to gain a better vantage point. There on the wall, in a large gilded frame, hung a painting of Lady Olivia. She looked to be around ten years old and just as he remembered. Gangly, her hair in braids and her body long and flat.

He desperately hoped she'd grown some curves.

Regardless, Lady Olivia would serve his purposeas well as any lady could.

More importantly, there was no need to waste time courting—he wasn't required to woo her—this would be a quick and straightforward affair. He would do his duty, then take his wife home to see after his sisters and manage his house. In exchange, Lady Olivia would gain the title of duchess, a generous allowance, and the run of his estates. Once he secured his heir, she'd have all the freedom he could afford her.

"Your Grace." Lord Pemberton entered the room and bowed.

William returned the greeting, encouraged by the good cheer reflected on Pemberton's face. It seemed his soon to be father-in-law wasn't holding a grudge.

William grinned at the older man before saying, "I imagine you know why I have come?"

"Indeed. Your letter arrived safely, and we are very much looking forward to the joining of our families." Pemberton moved to his desk and nodded at a velvet chair across from it. "Please make yourself comfortable."

William took the seat, then accepted a tumbler of brandy. "Will Lady Olivia be joining us?"

"Ah, yes. My wife has gone to fetch her." Pemberton shuffled some papers on his desk. "In the meantime, did you wish to review the marriage contract?"

"There's no need." William had read the blasted thing thousands of times since its creation. Before his parents' deaths, they had often reminded him of his duty and hounded him to see to his marriage. A stab of regret pierced him. He should have honored their wishes while they still lived. He added, "I'm well acquainted with its contents and see no reason to alter the terms."

"I have objections." A feminine voice rang out from somewhere behind him, and William turned to see a dark-haired beauty standing beside an older but equally attractive woman. He rose to greet them.

"Olivia," Pemberton warned as he came to his feet.

William raised a hand to silence the man. "It's quiteall right."

"Nonsense." Lady Pemberton strolled further into the library, coming to stand beside her husband. "Please excuse our daughter's ill-manor. I assure you we have raised her to behave as a proper lady ought to, Your Grace."

"I've already forgiven the misstep." William bowed to Lady Olivia. "My lady."

"Your Grace." She peered back at him through fiery amber eyes before dipping a curtsey.

William stared at her, half-amused, and part vexed. What had happened to the wallflower he remembered? The awkward girl with arms and limbs too long for her thin frame?

The woman peering at him scarcely resembled the girl he'd been promised. Her temper most certainlydid not. He attempted to cajole her with a rakish grin, but she only scowled more fiercely. Her displeasure plain for all to witness.

William took a step toward her. "Please voice your objection."

The Marchioness paled, her eyes rounding as she turned her head to stare at her daughter. "She has none." Lady Pemberton wrapped her arm around Lady Olivia's shoulders. "Isn't that right?"

Despite the question, William could tell by the wayLady Pemberton glared at Lady Olivia that it wasn't really a question that required an answer. To her credit, Lady Olivia met his gaze and said, "Actually, I do."

The Marchioness turned porcelain, not a stitch of color remaining in her face, but Lady Olivia paid her no mind as she continued laying voice to her objection. "I have no wish to marry a stranger."

Her father came around his desk, his cheeks flushed. "The duke is no stranger. You have been acquainted from childhood and betrothed just as long."

"I beg to differ. I've not received so much as a letter in the past fifteen years. I do not know the duke at all." Lady Olivia pressed her lips together and glared at William. "And I have no wish to marry him."

William eased closer to Lady Olivia and said, "She's right."

Lord and Lady Pemberton turned to him, their mouths agape. Lord Pemberton recovered first. He placed a hand on his wife's arm, but his gaze remained riveted on William as he said, "Surely you do not mean?—"

"And we shall have a lifetime to correct my oversight," William added, cutting the marquess off. He returned his attention to Lady Olivia, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I intend to honor my parent's wishes. I've secured a special license so we can marry with haste. Afterward, we can spend as much time as you please getting reacquainted."

Her eyes rounded, the copper flecks darkening. "You wish to marry at once?"

"Indeed," William answered.

Lady Olivia back stepped and turned panicked eyes on her father. "Surely waiting for the bans to be read is not asking too much."

"Dearest," her father crossed over to her and took her hands. "You are betrothed and will ultimately be wed, what difference does it make if the ceremony takes place tonight or three weeks from now?"

"It makes a world of difference." She turned her beseeching gaze on William. "Please. Allow us to wait for the banns?"

"If that is your wish, I shall honor it."

William surprised himself with the words more than anyone else. He could not say why he'd agreed, only that something in the way she pleaded tugged at his heart.

He had no wish to make her unhappy. That had never been his goal. In fact, he hoped that in time they would develop a care for one another. Regardless, he intended to be a good husband. He may not have chosen her, but he'd not make her suffer because of it.

If waiting for the banns to be read set her at ease, then that is what they would do. In the meantime, William would strive to win her over.