Chapter Eight

Louisa glanced up at the Duke of Yarmouth, her mouth dry as she fought to think on what it was she might say to him. When her sisters had been informed of her news, they had been just as stunned as Louisa had been, meaning that neither of them had found anything whatsoever to say for some time. Once the gentlemen-callers had quit the room that afternoon, Louisa had broken down into a flood of tears and that in itself had been enough to bring her sisters rushing over to her, doing their best to comfort and support her. It had been a very sweet moment, despite the sorrow that her heart was filled with, for she had seen her sisters in a new light. They had been kind, caring and gentle and had clearly seen her pain and sorrow. They had asked her if there was a way for her to break this engagement, to refuse to do as their father had arranged but even in asking that question, Louisa had seen in their eyes that they already knew the answer. Thus, she had dried her tears and silently determined that she was going to do whatever she could to make the best of things – and that meant accepting that she was to wed the Duke of Yarmouth.

"You are as astonished as I, I presume." The Duke shot her a glance and then lifted his head again, his chin a little higher than before. "I do not want this betrothal and I certainly do not want this marriage."

"And you think that I am eager for it?" Louisa could not keep the sarcasm from her voice. "In all of my years of hoping, I have only ever longed to be wed to a gentleman who is considered a rogue by all of society and who, I know, will care nothing for me."

The Duke's jaw tightened. "I do not think you need to speak in as caustic a manner as that."

"Nor do you need to speak in as brash a manner as that," Louisa returned, sharply. "Do you think that I need to know that you do not want this engagement or this marriage? It is as apparent to me by your manner than anything else." A sudden tightness came into her throat just as tears began to burn in her eyes. "I am about to have all of society's sympathy and yet, there is nothing I can do about it."

With a scowl, the Duke blew out a breath of obvious frustration. "It is a most ridiculous situation. Neither of us wish to wed and yet we both must do so."

"It is what it is." Louisa pushed back her tears and forced herself to lift her chin. "I have been told what is expected of me and therefore, that is what I shall do."

"I am afraid I am not as willing as that."

Something curled in Louisa's stomach. "You mean to say that you will end this betrothal before it has even begun?" She did not know whether she was happy or upset over that, relieved that she would be free from him but also concerned as to what the ton would think of the betrothal ending so quickly. Would she be spurned? Would they think poorly of her for it? Or would it be that they would understand and she would not be rejected? Thinking on this, Louisa frowned. She did not want anything to affect her sisters' chances of making an excellent match.

"I have no intention of ending our engagement." The Duke stopped walking suddenly, making Louisa stumble, though her hand on his arm prevented her from falling. Turning almost entirely towards her, he looked back at her with a steady gaze and with two lifted eyebrows. " You shall do it."

Louisa could not speak for some moments, staring back at the Duke with nothing but utter astonishment coursing through her. The Duke's eyebrows lifted all the higher as though he were waiting for her to respond, to say yes or no to this decision of his and Louisa, tugging her hand from his arm, immediately shook her head.

"I certainly shall not!" she exclaimed, a vision of her sisters and all the mockery that would come to them should she do such a thing rushing through her mind. "I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of breaking apart our betrothal, no matter how much I might wish for it to be so!"

"But why not?" the Duke asked, coming a little closer to her as the other guests swirled between them. "You seem to have a fairly reasonable grasp of my character and therefore, you know the sort of husband I shall be. Why, then, would you not do such a thing?"

Louisa swallowed tightly, glaring back at him. "Because," she began, keeping her words as strong as she dared in company, "I have other people that I consider. I have a responsibly to my sisters and I will not endanger their chances of a good match simply because of my selfishness!" Her lips pinched. "It may be that you do not understand such a thing, given that you appear to have no scruples whatsoever and certainly do not think of anyone else."

She watched as the glimmer of hope left the Duke's expression, only for him to scowl darkly at her. He opened his mouth but then closed it again, his jaw flexing as if he had wanted to give a retort but could not.

"Shall we dance?"

Louisa blinked in surprise, only for the Duke to grasp her hand and tug her towards the dance floor. Much to her surprise, she was set back from him as he then bowed, ready to step forward and take her into his arms. A thrill of pins and needles raced up her arms and into her neck, though it was not a pleasant feeling.

"I am not particularly enamoured with dancing," she murmured, as the dance began, leaving Louisa and the Duke as part of a small group of dancers as they each took turns in the set. "Would that you had asked a little more politely."

The Duke chuckled but it was not a warm sound. "I hardly think that you need to be told that I am not a gentleman who considers such things," he said, taking his steps with her before turning to the other lady beside him. That lady, Louisa noticed, looked up at the Duke and then let her gaze drift to Louisa when the Duke set her back, having clearly overheard the whispers from the other guests at the ballroom of their engagement. Louisa was forced to remain silent as the Duke had some more steps away from her, though she did not look up at him nor smile when the turn came for her to dance with him again. She did not like this, almost hated every moment that she was forced to be near him. He had shown her no kindness nor had even attempted to understand her present feelings on their engagement. Instead, all he had done was talk about himself and practically demand that she be the one to end their betrothal so that he did not have to.

"Tell me," she murmured, as the Duke returned for her, clasping both of her hands in both of his, "why do you want me to end our engagement? Why can you do not do such a thing?"

The Duke stepped away from her. "I have my reasons."

"But none that you will share with me? I who is to be marrying you?"

With a nod and another shrug, the Duke stepped away to dance with the lady while Louisa was turned by the other gentleman, but she barely managed the steps. It was as if the air around her was turning stale, as though the light from the candles was soon to be extinguished given the dimness of the room. She was breathing quickly now – a little too quickly – as what felt like ice began to run through her veins. Her mind filled with visions of what it would be like to be wed to the Duke – no pleasant thoughts – and as the Duke reached for her hand again, it took all of Louisa's inner strength not to yank it back again.

"You understand, I am sure." The Duke smiled but his eyes narrowed. "I am a Duke and I have had enough said about me by the ton already. I cannot permit them to say more for then…"

He trailed off but anger flashed through Louisa's mind as she recognized what it was he was saying. "But then if the ton say more of you, you will have even less opportunity to return to your roguish ways, will you not?" she said, hoarsely, as the Duke's eyes caught hers again, his lip curving at the edge. "You will have even fewer young ladies willing to be pulled into your arms."

"I am glad that you understand me so well," the Duke murmured, as he stepped back to bow, the dance – much to her relief – now coming to an end. "I do hope that you will, therefore, do as I ask?"

Louisa did not even curtsy, such was her shock. The Duke of Yarmouth was the very worst sort of gentleman, it seemed, for not only was he making it clear that yes, he was a scoundrel and yes, he was thinking only of himself, but also wanted her to accept that and, indeed, to do what she could to support him in his venture! It made her stomach twist, her whole body flooded with a sense of heat and then a rush of cold as she closed her eyes tightly.

"I cannot." Her heart cried out but she brought her sisters to mind, reminding herself of their standing and how important it would be for them that she continue on with the betrothal. "As much as I might wish to, I cannot."

The Duke's expression darkened immediately. Perhaps he was used to everyone doing as he asked at once – especially young ladies – but Louisa was not about to give in to him. "Then, Lady Louisa," he said, his voice low and filled with anger, "I shall do everything in my power to force you to do so."

At this, he turned on his heel and strode to the other side of the ballroom, leaving Louisa to stand alone in the center of the room. All of the other ladies were being led away by the gentlemen that they had danced with, but she, it seemed, was to be left to find her father or sisters alone. Shame burned in her cheeks as she tried to keep her head held high, demanding silently that a light smile lift her cheeks so that the ton would not think she was upset. Out of the crowd, a gentleman came forward to her, stopping directly in front of her, though Louisa did not know who he was.

"Lady Louisa, I presume." He inclined his head. "Do permit me to take you back to the dance floor for the next dance?"

Louisa blinked rapidly, keeping back her tears. "Forgive me," she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to fight the swell of emotions. "I do not think we are acquainted and – "

"Let us pretend that we are so that the Duke of Yarmouth's behaviour does not shame you in the way that I believe he intended." The gentleman smiled gently though there was a spark of anger in his eyes. "He and I are friends, you understand, so I am aware of his present… disinclination to his new state."

"Friends?" Louisa asked, hoarsely, the corners of her vision blurred just a little as she held back her tears.

"We were." The gentleman scowled. "I am not certain that I would call us as such, given his behaviour. However," he continued, calming his expression, "I should like to come to your aid. The ton will be watching. If they think that you were waiting for me to come to take you to the floor, then they will not think that the Duke has neglected you utterly and you shall bear no shame."

Swallowing hard, Louisa dropped into a quick curtsy, closing her eyes just as two tears fell to her cheeks. She dashed them away quickly, hoping that no-one but the gentleman before her would have noticed them. "You are very kind, sir."

"The Marquess of Quillon," he told her, offering her his arm. "Now come, let us hope that I recall the steps of this dance! The last thing I wish to do is embarrass you, I can assure you! Thereafter, I will help you find your family again. All will be well, I promise you."

Taking in a deep breath, Louisa tried to assure herself with those words but all the same, the fear of what the ton would think of the Duke's and her connection given what they would have witnessed continued to wind through her. It was not until she began to focus on the steps of the dance that the fear slowly began to leave her and, by the end of the dance, she was feeling a good deal better.

Though, she considered, as she curtsied to the Marquess of Quillon, that did not give her any aid when it came to the Duke of Yarmouth. How could she bring herself to marry such a cruel, selfish gentleman? And just how much more would he make her endure in his hope that she would be the one to end their betrothal?