George was glad of the short walk across the park. She needed the air and the exercise to clear her head. The afternoon sunlight dappled the grass, filtering through the leaves of the plane trees overhead, throwing long shadows. Tiny daisies were scattered across the lawn, like stars in a green firmament.

The duke had offered to release her from their betrothal.

It was the last thing she’d expected of him. She hadn’t even thought it was a possibility when she’d accused him of being just like his mother.

What an appalling creature his mother must be, to lie so easily and often. She hadn’t so much as blushed or batted an eye when her deception was exposed.

The duke had grown up living with that kind of behavior. It explained quite a lot.

His acceptance of her accusations had surprised her. He hadn’t argued, hadn’t made excuses or tried to bluster his way out of it, taking refuge in anger. He’d taken it on the chin, like a man—and he’d apologized.

A man who could accept honest criticism. A man who could apologize. How rare was that?

And he’d offered to release her, which had really taken her by surprise. After all the trouble he’d taken to trap her in the first place. So the apology must be sincere.

She’d told him to wait, to ask her tomorrow. Why? She was desperate to be released . . . wasn’t she?

The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves overhead. She shivered, and picked up her pace, almost running the last few yards before she crossed the street and sounded the knocker of Ashendon House.

It was a few minutes before anyone answered and when the door opened, it was by a very distracted-looking butler. “What is it, Burton?”

“It’s her ladyship. She’s started.”

“Started? What— Oh! You mean the baby’s coming?”

He nodded, and without waiting for any more, she hitched up her skirts and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She found Cal on the landing outside the bedchamber he shared with Emm, pacing back and forth like a caged lion.

“Cal, what’s happening?”

He turned an agonized face toward her. “She’s in there.” He jerked his head. “The doctor’s been and gone. He says there’s nothing to worry about. He brought a midwife, and she’s in there with Emm’s maid and Aunt Agatha.”

“I’m going in.” George tried the door, but it wouldn’t open.

“Locked,” Cal said grimly. “They won’t let me in either.”

She nodded. Men weren’t usually allowed to attend their wives’ confinements. But she could go in, surely. She knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she knocked again, louder.