The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories
dukedom; Sunny was obviously unimpressed by the prospect.
    In a voice of careful neutrality, he said, “You’re forgiven, but even if you don’t despise me, it’s clear that this is not a match that you want.” His throat closed, and it took an immense effort to add, “I don’t want an unwilling bride, so if there is someone else whom you wish to marry, I shall withdraw.”
    She stared at her hands, which were locked tightly on her book. “There is no one I would prefer. I suppose that I must marry someone, and you’ll make as good a husband as any.”
    He studied the delicate line of her profile, his resolve to do the right thing undermined by his yearning. Then she raised her head, her gaze searching. He had the feeling that it was the first time she had truly looked at him as an individual.
    â€œPerhaps you would be better than most,” she said after a charged silence. “At least you are honest about what you want.”
    It was a frail foundation for a lifetime commitment, but he could not bear to throw away this chance. “Very well,” he said formally. “I would be very honored, and very pleased, if you would consent to become my wife.”
    â€œThe honor is mine, your grace,” she said with equal formality.
    If this was a normal engagement, he would kiss his intended bride now, but Sunny’s expression was unwelcoming, so he said only, “My name is Justin. It would please me if you used it.”
    She nodded. “Very well, Justin.”
    An awkward silence fell. Unhappily he wondered how achieving the fondest hope of his heart could feel so much like ashes. “Shall we go and inform your mother of our news?”
    â€œYou don’t need me for that. I know that she is interested in an early wedding, perhaps October. You need only tell her what is convenient for you.” Rubbing her temples, she set aside her book and got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of a headache.”
    â€œI hope that you feel better soon.”
    â€œI’m sure I shall.” Remembering that she had just agreed to give her life, her person and her fortune into this stranger’s keeping, she attempted a smile.
    It must not have been a very good attempt, because the duke’s face remained grave. His thoughtful eyes were a clear, light gray, and were perhaps his best feature.
    â€œI don’t wish to seem inattentive,” he said, “but my brother left his affairs in some disarray, and I must return to London the day after your mother’s ball. I probably won’t be able to return until a few days before the wedding.”
    â€œThere is no need for romantic pretenses between us.” She smiled, a little wryly, but with the first amusement she had felt since discovering Paul’s true character. “It will be best if you aren’t here, because there will be a truly vulgar amount of publicity. Our marriage will inevitably be deemed the Wedding of the Century, and there will be endless stories about you and me, your noble ancestors and my undistinguished ones, my trousseau, my flowers, my attendants and every other conceivable detail. And what the reporters can’t find out, they will invent.”
    His dark brows arched. “You’re right. It will be better if I am on the other side of the Atlantic.”
    He opened the door for her. When she walked in front of him, on impulse she laid her hand on his arm for a moment. “I shall do my best to be a duchess you will be proud of.”
    He inclined his head. “I’m sure you will succeed.”
    As she went upstairs to her room, she decided that hewas rather attractive, in a subdued way. Granted, he wasn’t much taller than she, but she was a tall woman. The quiet excellence of British tailoring showed his trim, muscular figure to advantage, and his craggy features had a certain distinction.
    The words echoed in her mind, and as

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