“—you should at least talk to your—” His brows snapped together. “What did you say?”

“I said, I will honor our betrothal.”

“You will?” The degree of relief he felt at her words shocked him. To cover his reaction he picked up his tea cup and took a gulp of tea. It was hot and scalded his mouth but he swallowed the pain. He stared at her for a long moment. “Why?”

He could have bitten back the word as soon as he’d uttered it. What did it matter why she’d agreed to continue the betrothal? What sort of a fool was he to stir up the argument again? All that mattered was that she was still going to marry him.

That she’d agreed—finally—to be his. Freely agreed. Of her own free will.

“Why?” she repeated. She seemed to ponder the question a while, then she shrugged. “I suppose I’m more used to the idea now. I always knew that you’d deliberately tried to entrap me, and even now that I know your mother obtained my promise on a false premise . . . I have said publicly that I will marry you, and I won’t go back on that. Besides . . .”

He waited. “Besides?” he prompted after a minute.

She lifted her chin, looking a little self-conscious. “I’ve decided I want a baby.”

*   *   *

Later that day, George and Aunt Dottie went back to the House of Chance to finalize the order for her wedding dress. They’d shown the designs to Emm, and because Aunt Agatha haunted Ashendon House these days—supervising the care and feeding of The Heir—rather, railing against Emm’s feeding him—to no effect—Aunt Agatha also gave her very decided opinion.

George didn’t really care which of the designs she chose, but in the end—surprisingly—they all liked the plainer one, to be made in cream silk with piping. George liked its simplicity, Emm said it was both elegant and charming, Aunt Dottie said she’d look like a queen in it, while Aunt Agatha gave it as her opinion that she supposed it would be dignified enough for the bride of a duke. So that was that.

The carriage pulled up outside the House of Chance, and, as George helped Aunt Dottie to alight, a couple of ladies strolled along, eyeing her as they passed. She could only hear snatches of their conversation, but she had no doubt of their subject.

“. . . she’s a bastard, I heard . . . I wonder he allowed himself to be caught . . .”

“. . . outrageous . . . lewd behavior . . . entrapped . . .”

“Ignorant and ill-bred people,” Aunt Agatha said loudly. “Ignorant and ill-bred.”

George set her teeth and went into the shop.

Two more ladies were inside. As George entered, they exchanged glances and rose to their feet. One muttered, “This place will take anyone.”

The other said loudly, “There’s nothing here that any lady could possibly want.” The two women left.