“I refuse to marry a man I dislike because of one stupid incident.” The image painted by her great-aunt’s words was embarrassing in the extreme, but it didn’t alter George’s determination.

“A man you dislike?” Aunt Agatha repeated scornfully. “You chose an odd way of showing this so-called dislike. Besides, regrettable as the incident is, the result is one we all ought to be grateful for—”

“Grateful! To be forced—”

“Forced? Pah! It’s an opportunity, gel, one you don’t deserve! The sight of you when I came out from the concert, wrapped around the duke like the worst kind of hussy!” She shuddered dramatically. “I’ve never been so ashamed in all my life!”

George didn’t even try to defend her actions. Truth to tell, she’d shocked herself with her response to the duke’s kisses. She hadn’t believed herself capable of such a thing. How had it happened? One kiss and everything had spiraled out of control. It wasn’t like her. She’d never been interested in men before, not like that.

And she didn’t even like the duke.

Her aunt’s words, however, had confirmed a suspicion that had been hovering at the edge of her mind for some time. It explained a lot. Why she was acting so out of character. How he’d been able to . . . do what he did.

“Of course you’ll marry him—and be grateful for it! If he is willing to marry a gel who has proved herself a strumpet—”

“Piffle!” Aunt Dottie said from the corner seat.

“I beg your pardon.” Aunt Agatha turned on her sister with freezing hauteur.

“Granted,” Aunt Dottie said loftily. “But only as long as you stop this hypocritical nonsense. We all know you’re thrilled to the back teeth, so stop ranting at poor George and pretending to be shocked!”

George blinked. Aunt Dottie, normally so mild mannered, had spoken quite sharply.

“Poor George? Pretending? Did you not see how the wretched gel behaved?”

“It takes two, Aggie—or are you suggesting that the duke was a helpless innocent seduced against his will?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“The trouble with you, Aggie, is that you’ve never understood the power of passion. You never have and you never will.”

Aunt Agatha’s bosom swelled with indignation. “That’s rich, coming from the family spinster.”

Luckily, before the argument could get any worse, the carriage slowed. Aunt Dottie glanced out the window. “Ah, here we are back at Ashendon House, and look, Burton has waited up for us—see, he’s opening the door—and, oh, good, he has two footmen ready with umbrellas. No need to get down, Aggie. You go on home and get to bed. What we all need is a good night’s sleep. Everything will look better in the morning.”

Her sister snorted. “I doubt it.”

*   *   *