Gwen stood at the back of the chapel, waiting for the man who was to seal her future. When the knock had sounded at her door, she’d expected the duke, but had been surprised to see Archie, holding a small bouquet out to her and offering to accompany her to the chapel. The gown she’d finally chosen for the wedding was not the silk, but her best day dress, and, if he thought to make a comment on the state of it, it didn’t show. It had looked much better in the firelight as she’d altered it. Here in ThornHill, in the light of day, the pitiable state of it was plainly apparent to anyone that cared to look. The hem of Lady Danbury’s green cotton gown had been let down several inches to accommodate her long legs, and the crease of the old hem was clearly visible behind the unusually placed strip of lace meant to conceal it. The ruffles, cut from the excess fabric of the bodice when she’d taken it in, and added to the ends of the sleeves, did not quite match, and the scrap of wilted lace at

The reverend’s wife shut her mouth with a snap. ‘If I might see you for a moment in the hall, Gwen.’The word ‘now’was unspoken, but plain enough. And the sound of her name on his lips was strange, indeed. There wassomething about the way he said the ‘g’ that seemed to vibrate into a growl.‘If you will excuse me, for a moment, Reverend, Mrs Noah?’ And she rose quickly to join her husband in the hall.‘Your Grace?’‘You demanded my attendance, Gwen?’ He sketched a mocking bow to her.‘Not demanded. I requested that John find you and bring you back for our wedding breakfast.’‘I ordered no breakfast.’‘I did.’ She glared at him in frustration. ‘Perhaps you see no need to celebrate the day, and I could do without a continuation of this… this…melodrama, but the Noahs expect it of us and will not leave until the reception is performedDamn the Noahs!’‘Damn them indeed, sir,’she whispered, ‘but do it quietly. They are probably listening at the door.’‘I do not care what they hear. If the

The duke stared down in to his brandy glass. He should be upstairs by now, waiting on his new wife, not in the library. gathering his courage, he poured another glass and drank. This was not how the day was supposed to run. He’d had no desire to take a wife and certainly not to yoke himself to the odd duck that had washed up on the doorstep yesterday. Eventually, he would have had to make a decision, but he had been enjoying the relative quiet in the house without the presence of his mother. He would get the estate back in order first. And something would have to be done about Achie. An uneasy truce atleast. They’d need to work through enough of the old problem so they would not be at each other’s throats. He had no real desire to throw his only living relative from the house for good, but it might be necessary if no solution could befound.He’d never intended to bring a wife into the mess that existed now. But one had forced her way into it and now he had another problem to deal wi

The day dawned uncomfortably bright and early, and Gwen pulled the hanging curtains shut against it.After her visit from the duke the previous evening, she was at a loss as to what she could possibly say in the morning. No doubt her bags were packed and waiting for her in the entrance hall. But would he think to arrange transportation, or assume that she could purchase a ticket from her own funds?She laughed bitterly. As if there were such a thing. Her purse had been emptied by the trip to ThornHill , and showed no signs of magically filling itself for the return trip. And if she should return, where would she go? Her father had made it quite clear that there was to be no turning back from this course, and while the parting had been sweet, she knew he was sincere in his desire to get rid of her, for her own safety and his peace of mind.Unless she abandoned all pride and made a living on her back, as more than one nobleman had suggested. And what fool thought it better to be the who

Barrister Williams and Williams had been family friends and solicitors since the first duke, when the two names on the sign had belonged to the ancestors of the man currently in the office. Williams the elder was retired now, but his sonCharles, a man slightly older than Authur himself, kept the name on the sign out of respect and simplicity. After several years at Oxford, there would be a new Williams in the office, and it hardly seemed necessary to repaint.Charles ushered him in to the oak-panelled office and seated him in a heavy leather wing chair before taking his own seat behind the enormous desk. ‘And to what do I owe this honour, your Grace?’‘I have a problem, Charles.’‘We have a problem, then. As I must always remind you, do not feel that you need face these things alone. Your problems are ours also.’‘This one, I might. The utmost discretion is required.’ ‘Discretion is my watchword.’ Charles replied.Authur smiled. There were times at Oxford when discretion was the las