Secrets Of A Duchess. Kaitlin O'RileyЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Lady Madeline Maxwell, a petite vision of femininity in a baby blue silk gown that accentuated the pale blue of her eyes, breezed into the library. She tossed her yellow curls and smiled sweetly at her father, then turned her full attention upon the Duke of Woodborough.

      “Uh…Madeline…darling…The duke and I were…just…discussing…” Lord Maxwell stammered weakly.

      The duke, looking directly at Lady Madeline, explained without pretense, “The fact that there will be no marriage between us.”

      The bright smile vanished from Madeline’s pretty face. “Whatever do you mean, Your Grace?”

      She was confused. This was not going at all how she intended. The duke, after settling matters with her father, was supposed to ask her to stroll in the rose garden and while there become so captivated by her charm and beauty that he would propose marriage. Ask her to be his duchess. The Duchess of Woodborough. That was what was supposed to happen. But now…

      She did not like the look of his eyes. They were frosty and hard. Ice blue. She was accustomed to gentlemen looking at her with longing and appreciation. Men always did what she wanted them to. They were so easy to manipulate. A flutter of her long eyelashes, one pretty pout, a toss of her curls, and they were hers.

      The duke was not behaving correctly. She had been positive that he was in love with her when they spoke last Christmas at the Talbots’ Holiday Ball. He had smiled at her and commented that she had grown into a lovely young lady and that she was no longer the little girl he remembered teasing. She mentioned that their fathers hoped that they would marry someday, and he said he was aware of their wishes.

      Everyone thought that they should marry. Everyone said she was perfect for him. His own father had wanted him to marry her, knowing full well that she would make a beautiful duchess. Every man wanted her. He would be crazy not to marry her! Yet he did not look like a man about to propose marriage now, standing before the mantel with his handsome features set in a dark scowl. So what had gone wrong?

      “I mean, Lady Madeline, that I do not appreciate the gossip about us. However lovely you are, I have never mentioned marriage to you, or anyone else for that matter. You and I have not even seen each other in months. I am sorry to put this so bluntly, but I have no intention of proposing to you,” the duke stated, his eyes locked with Madeline’s.

      An anguished moan escaped from Lord Maxwell. He sank heavily into a rich leather armchair, taking another long gulp of whiskey as he went.

      Lady Madeline was stunned. Utterly stunned. No one had ever spoken so rudely to her before. How dare he! Her mind raced feverishly as she struggled to get her thoughts around the meaning of his words.

      He did not want her.

      He did not want her. Her. How could he not want her? Why, she was the one that everyone wanted! Didn’t he just say that she was lovely? But wasn’t she the loveliest, the most charming, the most fashionable, the most graceful? How could he not want her? There must be some terrible mistake.

      “But everyone believes that we will be betrothed, Your Grace.” She posed dramatically with her hands to her heart, hoping that he would notice how attractive her bosom was in her low-cut French gown.

      Ignoring her affected posturing, he asked with quiet determination, “Whose fault is that, Lady Madeline?”

      “Papa?” Madeline turned to her father for confirmation that this man did not want to marry her. The idea was completely preposterous. The duke could not treat her this way. Surely her father would make him marry her. Her father always got her what she wanted.

      Lord Maxwell could not meet his daughter’s eyes and sank lower into his chair. “I’m sorry, my dear.” He finished off his whiskey and stared at the empty glass.

      This is impossible, Madeline thought. Everyone knew that they were getting married. She was going to be the Duchess of Woodborough. Her mother had said so. Her father had said so. Her friends had said so. Yet here was the duke himself saying it was not true.

      He was not going to marry her.

      What in heaven’s name was she going to say to everybody? How could she ever show her face again?

      If he didn’t love her, her mind reasoned quickly, he must be in love with someone else. But who could it possibly be? There wasn’t a girl in the ton who even came close to matching her in beauty or style. There had to be somebody though. Nothing else made sense. Madeline would find out who she was eventually. There could be no other logical explanation for him to spurn her. White-hot tears of humiliation stung behind her eyes, but she held them back. She clenched her hands so tightly her fingernails cut into the flesh of her palms. She would not cry.

      Her pride and vanity bolstered her now. No one could think that the duke turned her away. No, no, no! She had to be the one to turn him down! Yes, that was it! Wouldn’t that be something? The beautiful Lady Madeline Maxwell refused the Duke of Woodborough’s hand in marriage! Why? She simply did not love him! And, oh, but he was devastated, completely crushed by her rejection! The gossips would love that. She would be renowned. Gentlemen would flock to her, wanting to be the one she chose in his place! Yes…Yes. This could work.

      However, she would have to marry very quickly to give the impression that she was in love with another all this time, that she had just been torn between her parents’ wishes and her true love. But who? Who…? John Talbot? He was young and handsome but would only be a baron. Besides, he was too serious. Maybe Oliver Parkridge? He was rich, young, somewhat handsome, and would at least become an earl when his father died. She could win him over in no time since he was in love with her already.

      Yes, Oliver Parkridge would have to do.

      She promptly composed herself and faced the duke. “Well then.” She smiled brightly, while smoothing the silk ruffles of her blue gown.

      From the depths of his chair, Lord Maxwell offered in a thin voice, “We can say you refused his hand, my dear.”

      Madeline gave a look full of sweetness, addressing her father, yet staring directly at the duke. “Papa, how can I refuse him if I have not yet been asked?”

      The duke stared in disbelief at her outrageous implication. “I beg your pardon?”

      “I cannot simply lie to everyone,” Madeline stated as if speaking to a small child.

      “Now, now, my dear…” began Lord Maxwell, stunned into rising from his chair. It would not do for his daughter to anger the already irritated duke. “Be reasonable.”

      Madeline sauntered to the tea cart and calmly poured herself a cup of tea, confident that the duke would do what she wanted. “I must be asked before I can refuse, Your Grace.” She posed prettily with a delicate china teacup in her hand, fluttering her eyelashes with just the right amount of innocence.

      The duke muttered something under his breath. “Let me understand this, Lady Madeline. You wish for me to propose marriage to you now, so that you can refuse me honestly?”

      “Yes.” She used the full force of her baby blue eyes to appeal to him. “Is that too much