The Trouble With Being a Duke by Sophie Barnes

dwindled. “Nevertheless—I will marry him. This . . .” She swept her arm in a wide circle to indicate their extravagant surroundings. “It cannot possibly last.”
    Her voice held such a degree of sadness that Anthony felt his heart break for this lovely woman before him. Instinct told him to put his arms around her and hug her against him. He wanted to keep her safe, to prevent her from marrying someone she so obviously had no desire to marry. It must have been something her parents had arranged—a match that would serve all parties most favorably, except of course for Miss Smith. “Have you told your parents that the prospect of marrying this man makes you unhappy?”
    She looked at him, wide-eyed. “How did you—”
    With a gentle tug, he began leading her toward the pumpkin carriage, the gravel from the walkway crunching ever so softly beneath their feet as they approached the grass. “You may not have said, but it is clear in both your voice and the expression upon your face—your eyes especially.”
    She shook her head a little. “It’s a very fortuitous match actually—one that will benefit my family greatly.” She gave him an awkward smile and a shrug before adding, “We do what we must.”
    The idea of it made him sick to his stomach. Nobody deserved to marry out of obligation. A thought struck him. What if he courted her? He was a duke, so her parents should have no qualms about approving the match, and besides, he was looking for a bride. Of course, there was no way of knowing if Miss Smith would not just be going from one undesirable fiancé to another. They’d only just met, and there was no way of knowing that he stood a chance of making her any happier than the man she was currently attached to.
    And of course there was the slight detail of not knowing who she was. If she was prepared to sacrifice herself on the marriage altar, then perhaps there was something severely wrong with her—something this other gentleman was prepared to overlook, or worse, something he was not yet aware of.
    Anthony cast a sideways glance in Miss Smith’s direction. Surely a woman with such delicate features, such clear blue eyes and such a delectable figure had to be perfect in every other regard. It was damn near impossible to imagine otherwise.
    Sensing Miss Smith’s desire to avoid any further discussion of the matter, Anthony suggested they have their portraits drawn by the sketch artist instead, and with an eager nod of approval from the lady, he helped her up into the pumpkin carriage after Lord Shelby and a woman who was not his wife had vacated it. Anthony wasn’t usually one to judge (especially given his own history of rakish tendencies), but as it happened, he rather liked Lady Shelby and was therefore unable to keep himself from saying, “Ah, there you are, Shelby.” He eyed the woman Shelby was with—a widow who was notorious for sleeping her way into gentlemen’s pockets. “I say, is your wife aware of the company you keep, old chap?”
    “No . . . er . . . I . . . that is . . . ,” Lord Shelby sputtered.
    Anthony served him a strict frown. “I suggest you part ways with one another here, and none shall be the wiser—I’ve no desire for a scandal to ruin an otherwise pleasant evening.”
    “I couldn’t agree more, Your Grace,” Shelby replied, abandoning the widow posthaste and hurrying off toward the house.
    The widow gave Anthony a spiteful glare. “Was that really necessary?”
    “I apologize for ruining your fun, Lady Trapleigh, but I suggest you keep your talons away from the married gentlemen this evening, or I shall have you removed from the property.”
    She gave him a condescending smirk—her eyes darting toward Miss Smith in a predatory fashion as she took a step toward him, reached out and ran a long finger down his chest. Miss Smith gasped and Lady Trapleigh chuckled. “Perhaps I should offer my services to you instead?”
    Years ago he would probably have