Hart was dressing to go out when he received the note from Lord Ashendon. So, Lady Georgiana had decided to accept the betrothal, had she? And Ashendon would be obliged if he would call the following morning—with or without his man of business—to discuss the settlements.

The surge of triumph he felt on reading it surprised him. Of course he’d known her objections were for form’s sake—no sane woman would turn down an offer from a duke such as he—but he had to admit to a few doubts at the time. She’d seemed so adamant in her refusal.

He adjusted his cravat, inspected his reflection in the looking glass and snorted. As bad as Lord Towsett, indeed! She was like every other female he knew—blowing hot and cold according to whim. Saying one thing while meaning another.

He had no idea what had finally caused her to accept the inevitability of their marriage, but he wasn’t going to question it.

He collected his hat, gloves and cane, and headed off to his club for a quiet, convivial evening. Instead he found half the members in a fever of speculation about his betrothal: Had Lady George truly accepted? Was it really going ahead? Who had put the notice in the newspapers? And more offensively intrusive questions upon which bets had been made.

Refusing to answer any of their questions, Hart took himself off to a gambling den where he was less well-known, where he played carelessly, his mind only half on the cards. He returned home in the wee small hours with a pocketful of winnings and a very bad mood.

“Lucky in cards, unlucky in love,” one impertinent fellow had quipped.

Hart ignored him. Love was a delusion that women used to control men.

*   *   *

The following morning he called on Lord Ashendon. The butler ushered him into the library, where he found Lord and Lady Ashendon sitting together on a sofa. Always in each other’s pockets, those two. Hart couldn’t understand it. Ashendon seemed like a sensible man.

Ashendon rose, and after greetings were exchanged, said to the butler, “Fetch my secretary, will you, and ask Lady George to come down please, Burton.”

Hart blinked. “I thought we were to discuss settlements.”

Ashendon nodded. “Yes. George wishes to take part in the discussion.”

Hart frowned. “The bride? Sitting in on settlement discussions? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“George is different.” Ashendon turned and helped his heavily pregnant wife to rise.

Lady Ashendon paused as she passed Hart and laid a hand on his arm. “Please don’t take offense, your grace,” she said quietly. “Until my husband brought her into the family fold, George had little reason to trust the men in her life.”

Hart stiffened at the implied criticism.