Caroline tilted her head to the side and studied her. “I believe that you have a kind heart, Miss Pageant. While this may have started out as a simple proposal, it is my hope that it will become genuine.” She sighed heavily, her expression turning sad. “Not only was my husband a firm hand when it came to raising our son, but Donovan was grievously injured in the war, and not just physically. He needs a strong, brave woman that will love him unconditionally.”

Emary certainly didn’t feel very courageous at the moment. “Are you sure that person is me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” the dowager said matter-of-factly. “I do.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you to compose yourself.” She walked to the door but paused and turned back to face her. “I would truly be honored to have you as a daughter-in-law, Miss Pageant. You’re a strong woman, and these days, that is a rare quality.”

Emary sat back in her chair and stared into the fire after the dowager left, contemplating all that had been said. Even after the duchess knew the level of subterfuge that Emary had been willing to partake in to ensnare a duke — her son — she still thought that she was worthy of his love. It was humbling, to say the least.

Emary stood and walked over to a nearby mirror. She withdrew a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped the last of the tears from her face. She tucked it away and pinched her cheeks to add some healthy color. When she was finished, she was satisfied that her appearance was just as fresh as before, even if her eyes were slightly puffy.

Putting a smile in place, she returned to the party.

Donovan took longer conversing with Lord Corderly than he would have liked. While he wasn’t averse to speaking about politics, when he had a beautiful woman waiting for his return, Emary was the right choice every time.

But when he returned to the parlor where several people were still milling about and discussing the musicale, Emary was conspicuously absent. Several minutes later, when she finally appeared in the doorway, a wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until she wasn’t there. It was a thought that was both thrilling — and highly unsettling. He was starting to believe that this hole, which he’d dug for himself, was going to get so deep that he wouldn’t be able to climb back out.

“You look quite besotted, Your Grace,” a feminine voice said at his elbow. He turned to see a blond woman standing next to him. She wore an expression that could only be deemed as innocent, but he rather thought the opposite was true. “If you don’t mind me saying so, of course,” she added.

“Have we met?” Donovan asked, knowing that he sounded curt, but unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. Am I so transparent with my emotions?

“We have.” She inclined her head. Her green eyes were shrewd, although her voice was perfectly polite. “I am Miss Miranda Parkhurst. Although I doubt you would remember me. Even the night of your mother’s ball Miss Pageant had quite turned your head. But then,” she shrugged. “Emary always made it her objective to charm any suitor. I daresay she was quite out of sorts when you initially brushed her off. But she has always been resourceful. But even I wouldn’t have thought to spill punch on someone to gain their notice.”

Donovan didn’t want to be pulled into whatever game she was playing, but he found himself narrowing his eyes and asking her all the same, “What are you talking about?”

Her mouth fell open slightly, as if she was surprised, but Donovan was rather confident that she knew exactly what she was doing. “Didn’t she tell you that it was all part of her grand plan to ensnare the unattainable Duke of Windwood?”

Donovan clenched his fists, both in annoyance at her attempt to discredit Emary, and for her encouragement toward his own misgivings. “No.”

“It doesn’t matter now, I suppose. It all worked out in the end.” She turned those keen green eyes on him. “By the way, I never did congratulate you on your engagement.”

She smiled slightly as she walked away, although Donovan didn’t even acknowledge her withdrawal. Emary was moving toward him through the remaining guests, shooting a narrowed glare at the woman that had just departed. “What did Miss Parkhurst say to you?” she nearly demanded when she reached him.

“Quite a bit, actually.” Donovan was pleased that his voice was so calm and controlled when inside he was roiling with anger.

“I hope that you didn’t believe a word of whatever she told you. Miranda has long been jealous of my successes this season.”

He finally turned his full gaze upon her. “Meaning me?”

Her face instantly blanched of color. “No! That’s not what I—”

“I think it’s time to depart, Miss Pageant,” he interrupted firmly. Even he knew this wasn’t the place to air their disagreements where it could be discussed in drawing rooms across London the next day.

He forced himself to ignore the hurt in those brown eyes as he turned his back on her. Once they had collected his mother and her parents, they climbed into the carriage. He was thankful that the dowager and his future-in-laws carried the conversation on the way back to the townhouse, for he was in no mood to engage. He kept his gaze firmly fixed out the window, staring off into the darkness.

He didn’t want to believe that Emary was some calculating pretender who had only set her sights on him because he was a duke, but Miss Parkhurst’s claims had unnerved him more than he cared to admit. He knew he shouldn’t allow some envious debutante to make him rethink everything he felt, and yet, her words had revived the doubt he’d happily ignored until then. While it was too late to remove his heart from Emary’s grasp, he had to know how things stood between them.

When they finally stopped at the Armenton townhouse, he turned to Emary’s mother. “Might I have a private word with my fiancée?”

Lady Armenton acquiesced after a slight hesitation. But then, she was under the impression that her daughter would be his wife in less than a fortnight. “Of course. But only for a few moments.” She turned to the dowager. “Perhaps I might show you the heirloom china I was speaking of earlier?”

His mother glanced between them, and then offered Emary’s mother a slight smile. “Certainly.”

Once the two women had departed, with Emary’s father following silently in their wake, Donovan turned to Emary. She was sitting patiently across from him, likely waiting for the axe to fall.

Donovan wanted nothing more than to reach out and caress the silky softness of her cheek, to ease her concerns, but he forced himself to refrain. “Why do you want to marry me, Emary?”

She blinked, as if surprised at the question. “I…I…” she stammered.

He clenched his jaw, feeling as though something inside of him was ripping apart. If she could have only said she loved him, it would have been enough for him to take a risk on this crazy venture, no matter what Miss Parkhurst had said.

But she’d hesitated.

It was a split second pause like that which made all the difference on the battlefield between life and death.

He blew out a heavy breath. He knew things had been progressing entirely too fast between them, and because of his consuming desire for Emary, he couldn’t think straight. Perhaps it was time to take a step back and evaluate how he truly felt, if only to reassure himself that he wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake, that he wasn’t confusing lust with…something else. He needed to put a wedge between them, to gain some space to think.

“I’m returning to my estate in the morning,” he announced bluntly. “I have some things that I need to take care of, that need my personal involvement.”

He could read the disappointment in her shimmering gaze, but she merely nodded. “Will you be back on Sunday?” she asked softly.

He heard what was left unspoken. …when the last of the banns are read? He frowned lightly. “I’m not certain.”

“I see.” She visibly swallowed.

Without another look at her, he stepped out of the carriage and held his hand out. After a brief hesitation, she set her hand in his. It wasn’t until she’d stepped to the ground that he looked at her. His heart instantly stuttered in his chest, she looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Her breath left her slightly parted lips on a little white cloud, the cold night air already starting to turn her pert nose a charming pink. Her ebony hair shone like a night full of stars, while her brown eyes shimmered with a mixture of swirling emotion. Unable to resist, he bent down and brushed his mouth over hers.

He saw the moisture well in her eyes when he pulled back. “I wish you didn’t have to go, Donovan.”

He was torn by her unspoken plea and his own need for distance, but in the end, self-preservation won out. “Goodbye, Miss Pageant.”

Donovan caught the glisten of a tear in the moonlight as it coursed down her cheek before she turned and disappeared into the house. It didn’t escape his attention that she didn’t look back at him.

He told himself it was for the best, but as he climbed back into the carriage, he couldn’t ignore the stab of guilt that followed.

When his mother joined him a few moments later, she looked at him in horror. “What have you done? Miss Pageant is quite upset.” She stilled. “Please tell me you haven’t called off the engagement.”

He glared at her. Now that Emary wasn’t there to distract him, he found that his ire was piqued at his pride being questioned. “Not yet.” He tapped the roof of the carriage.

Caroline crossed her arms as they set into motion. “Surely you’re not going to believe some envious chit’s ramblings over what you already know about Miss Pageant’s character?”

He clenched his jaw but didn’t reply.

She shook her head. “I never pegged you for a fool, Donovan. Don’t make me rescind my decision now.”

He felt his irritation spike higher. “I asked her why she wanted to marry me,” he stated firmly. “She couldn’t give me an answer.”

She lifted a brow. “Did you tell her why you wanted to marry her?”