She nodded. “Oh, Emm, I don’t know how to be a duchess. You know how I hate all that formal stuff. And I don’t want to learn it.”

Emm leaned forward and took her hand. “You will be the kind of duchess you decide to be. Duchesses come in all kinds of shapes and sizes and with all kinds of temperaments.”

George nodded. “I know. Like the Duchess of York.”

Frederica, the Duchess of York, was unhappily married to a royal prince. The duchess had retired to Oatlands, her country home, where she lived with dozens of dogs, monkeys and horses.

The thought of the Duchess of York calmed her somewhat. The duke had chosen George, and if she wasn’t the kind of duchess he wanted—the kind society would expect—he’d just have to put up with the way George was. She wasn’t going to change. And she’d make sure he couldn’t squeeze her into a mold.

And if the Duchess of York could retire to the country and live with dozens of dogs, so could George.

“Exactly. In any case, Everingham isn’t a very political kind of duke—he sits in the Lords when Parliament is sitting, and Cal says he’s diligent in tending to his various ducal responsibilities, but he doesn’t seem to have any political ambitions. If you think he wants you to be a grand society hostess, well”—she squeezed George’s hand—“he will learn differently, but I don’t think he will expect it of you.”

“But what if he does? What will I do?”

Emm frowned. “George, this is not at all like you, fretting about what people expect and what people will think. Where is the girl I first met, spitting fire and brimstone, determined to forge her own way in the world? And facing problems head-on.”

George bit her lip. That was true. It wasn’t like her to worry over what might be. She’d lived most of her life day by day, facing whatever she had to face. It had stood her in good stead, too.

And she’d never worried about what other people thought of her—she’d always done what she thought was right and never mind the consequences.

Her brow cleared. “You’re right, Emm. I am worrying about nothing. The duke put me in this position, and he can wear the consequences. And if he doesn’t like the kind of duchess I become, that’s his bad luck.” She stood. “I’m going to take Finn out for a walk now. Would you like me to bring you back an ice from Gunter’s?”

Emm laughed. “You know me too well. I’d love one, thanks. I just wish I could walk with you. I don’t like being cooped up indoors, but I suppose at this stage, it’s inevitable.”

*   *   *