What’s more, rather than asking the duchess polite questions or showing any recognition that she was speaking to one of the most important ladies in the ton, Gabby was chatting about India. India! Peter’s skin crawled. There was nothing more tedious than people who talked about India. Plenty of men around London were available to do just that. The last thing one wanted from a woman was more wearisome details.

His future wife clearly had no sense of nuance. She had no grasp of the consequence and hierarchy that structured London society. He shuddered to think what his friends would make of her and how they would laugh at him behind his back.

Gabby was still chattering away. Oh, God, she seemed to be lecturing Her Grace on the grammatical structure of the Hindi language. Peter ground his teeth silently. His throat felt bitter.

He couldn’t do it.

He could not marry this talkative, frumpy, plump woman who had no social graces and no instinct. It didn’t matter how much money she had. By God, he could more easily transform a merchant’s daughter into a lady.

Cold fingers crept up Peter’s spine. This awkward girl would effortlessly pull down the delicate social structure on which his happiness depended, and she would have no idea what she was doing. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right.

He’d spent six years building his position in London society, befriending the high and the low. Peter thought little of those who hoped to reach the upper echelons by trod-ding on those below or by making cruel remarks. He was unfailingly kind, and he had accepted defeats with grace. For example, there was the intimate gathering that Bladdington gave for Prinny’s forty-third birthday last year, to which he was not invited. And even though Peter’s chest burned, he was perfectly amiable with Bladdington the next time he saw him, because everyone told him that Prinny had loudly demanded to know where Dewland was and said the party was no fun without him.

Bile rose up his throat again, and Peter clenched his teeth. Father had no right to demand such a thing.

His parents were due to arrive from Bath in the afternoon to greet their future daughter-in-law. He had always found it difficult to stand up to his father, but this time he would simply have to do so.

He could not go through with this marriage.

Chapter 5

GABBY, PETER, AND PHOEBE returned to Dewland House to find that an elegantly slung traveling carriage had just drawn up.

“It’s my new mama come to fetch me!” Phoebe cried.

Peter looked at the little girl sympathetically. He had to remember to locate that woman—Mrs. Ewing, wasn’t it? “I’m afraid not, Phoebe. That is my parents’ traveling coach. They will have returned from Bath to welcome Miss Jerningham.”