To Marry the Duke (American Heiress Trilogy Book 1) by MacLean Julianne

Author:MacLean, Julianne [MacLean, Julianne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Julianne MacLean Publishing Inc.
Published: 2020-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

A few days after Florence left, the dowager announced over breakfast that it was tradition in late October for the Duke and Duchess of Wentworth to host a shooting party. Sophia would therefore be required to send out invitations to the usual people.

Who the “usual people” were was left for Sophia to guess at, until the time came to actually prepare the invitations. Sophia had no choice but to go to the dowager and request a guest list.

She was about to knock on Marion’s door when she heard a loud, gut-wrenching sob from inside. Startled, she hesitated and listened for a few seconds, then gathered her resolve and knocked.

Something dropped on the floor inside the room, and it was a few more seconds before Marion shouted, “Come in.”

Sophia entered.

If Marion had been crying, it was over now. Her face was as cold and unfeeling as ever. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

Sophia wondered if she should ask Marion if she was all right. “I need the guest list for the party.”

Marion huffed as she rose from her chair. “I don’t have the time or the inclination to do your duties for you, Sophia. You must learn to do them on your own.”

The dowager’s terse reply helped Sophia to decide not to pry into her personal business. She simply wasn’t up to being shouted at today. “Believe me, Marion, I want that as much as you do.”

The dowager gave her a sidelong glance, then went to her desk and retrieved a book. She handed it over. “This is my record of last year’s party. It includes the menus and the guest list as well as my notes about each guest’s tastes and preferences regarding food and rooms. Viscount Irvine, who is quite elderly, found the bed in the green guest chamber too hard, if I recall. You’ll have to put him elsewhere this year.”

“Thank you, Marion, this is exactly what I need.” Sophia accepted the book and turned to leave.

She had just stepped over the threshold when the door slammed shut behind her and almost caught the hem of her dress.

Forcing herself to ignore her mother-in-law’s hatefulness—for if Sophia surrendered to her own smoldering temper, her soul might explode—she returned to her own boudoir and sat down at her desk, dipped her pen in the ink and began her letters.

Three hours later, she leaned back in her chair and sighed with fatigue as she marveled at the enormous stack of invitations, each sealed with red wax imprinted with the ducal coat of arms.

A knock rapped at her door just then. “Come in.”

The creaky door opened slowly, and her mother-in-law walked in.

Not knowing what to expect, Sophia sat up straight in her chair. “Hello, Marion.”

“You’ve been working on the invitations?”

A sudden desire to please this woman—whose approval should not matter to her—infiltrated her weary spirit. She gestured with her hand toward the pile in front of her. “Yes, I finished all of them. I invited everyone who came last year.”

“Not Lady Colchester, I hope.

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