“She can always change her mind,” Emm said serenely. “But it would look very bad. So think it over, George, dear, and be sure in your heart that this is what you want.”

George swallowed. “I’m sure.” She wasn’t, she was filled with doubts and second thoughts, but she’d given her word to the duchess, so she wasn’t going to act on them.

“So, Ashendon, you and Everingham can begin drawing up the settlements,” Aunt Agatha said.

“Cal, the duke and I will begin drawing up the settlements,” George corrected her. She still felt sick about the promise she’d made. Every part of her screamed to escape, but a promise was a promise.

And if she was going to marry the wretched duke, she would make sure she got what she wanted out of the deal.

Aunt Agatha raised her lorgnette and eyed George narrowly through it. “What nonsense! Ladies have no part in such negotiations. It would be quite unseemly.”

“Perhaps,” George said sweetly, “but how often have you told me I’m no lady? Seemly or not, it’s my future that’s being negotiated and I’m determined to have my say.”

*   *   *

George went upstairs and flung herself on her bed. Finn came padding up and nudged her gently, but she wasn’t in the mood to go out, not yet. She was swamped with doubt. What had she agreed to?

Marrying the duke would put all kinds of ghastly restrictions on her. She’d have all of society watching her. Judging her. Life in a birdcage. She’d be expected to behave like a duchess, dress like a duchess, perform duchess-type duties.

How did a duchess behave, anyway? George didn’t really know. She pictured some kind of an Aunt Agatha, only worse, more dignified, if that were possible. Pompous and autocratic. Not that the duke’s mother was like that. But she was dying.

Downstairs she heard Cal go out on some business. She’d talk to Emm. Emm was her aunt by marriage, but their relationship was more like a maternal big sister or a friend. She was wise. And she really listened.

George found Emm reading with her feet up in the small sitting room.

Emm looked up as she entered. “That was quite an about-face you made today. You don’t exactly look like a radiant bride-to-be.”

George grimaced.

Emm put her book aside. “You haven’t been forced into this, have you, George, darling? I know Aunt Agatha is terribly keen for you to make a splendid marriage, but if you truly don’t want it, now is the time to say so.”

“No, I’ll go ahead with it—I’ve given my word now, and I won’t back down, but . . .”

“But you’re having second thoughts.”