Schooling the Duke (The Heart of a Scandal, #1) by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: duke, soldier, war, spinster, napoleonic wars
Publisher: Christi Caldwell
Published: 2017-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Ainsley was not ready for London’s Polite Society, and standing in Graham’s marble foyer in wait for the younger lady, Rowena didn’t believe as much because she doubted Ainsley’s capabilities... but because the ton could never, would never know what to do with a woman of her spirit.

Having worked with her, dined with her, and sat together simply conversing, she had come to the conclusion: his ward would never be the decorous-driven, demure miss he sought.

That desiring on his part, for Ainsley just served as further testament to the stranger who’d returned from war. Rowena would have never sufficed. Her heart gave a little pull at that. When he’d become heir to a dukedom, his obligations and responsibilities had shifted. The girl she’d once been who’d laughed freely and run wildly through the hills of Wallingford with mud stains on her hem and her hair whipping about her cheeks could have never found herself as his duchess. He’d known that.

It hadn’t been until he’d methodically run through his expectations for Ainsley that she herself had at last realized it. Realized after more than a decade of her life had passed just why that fate and future had been impossible. When Graham Linford inevitably took a bride, she would be the model of every attribute he sought. A woman who was refined and straitlaced and... respectable. And the truth would always remain that Rowena would live and eventually die as the perfect dragon, but she would never be respectable.

The muscles of her throat worked as every age-old shame rose to the surface. She would always be a bastard, and worse... a whore’s daughter. But she’d not have had any man who’d not loved her with all her flaws and faults, anyway. She’d deserved more then, and she did just as much now.

“How very serious you are, Mrs. Bryant.”

At that low murmur, she gasped and spun about. A fluttering started low in her belly, as she caught sight of Graham. Standing at the doorway, he epitomized both a ducal strength and masculine beauty. The midnight fabric of his jacket and breeches accentuated muscles better suited to the cobblers and stable masters who’d worked in the Berkshire countryside than a nobleman of vast wealth and influence. “Your Grace,” she forced herself to say as he came over. Rowena smoothed her palms over her brown woolen cloak. Her own garments stood out in stark contrast to that station divide that had always been there.

A servant rushed to greet him with a black floor-length cloak. Waving off any help, Graham shrugged into that heavy satin fabric. As he latched the clasp at his throat, the sapphire lining peeked out. The interior part of that elegant garment finer than anything she’d ever donned.

Rowena remained motionless, hands folded before her.

As the footman melted into the shadows, Graham lingered his gaze briefly on her hands. “Where is the skipping and exuberant laughing woman of our last meeting, Mrs. Bryant?” he commented, drifting closer.

She forced her feet to remain planted to their spot.

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