My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) by Julie Johnstone Page B

marriage.”
    Colin wasn’t quite ready to tell Harthorne about the predicament his father’s will had put him in, so he ignored the barb and said, “I’ve contemplated ladies’ duplicitous natures plenty, and I’ve plenty of personal examples of how coldhearted women truly are and a sterling example of the folly of ever allowing yourself to fall in love with a woman.”
    “Your father.” Harthorne was sitting straight in his chair now, though his skin did hold a definite green tinge.
    “I don’t want to see you end up like him.”
    Harthorne took a long breath and winced as if it hurt him. “I hope I don’t offend you when I say this, but not all women are like your mother. They are not all calculating creatures who will throw love over for money or pleasure or―”
    “Simply because they are cruel,” Colin said, thinking now of only his mother and what she had incomprehensibly done to his father.
    “Yes. And simply to be cruel.”
    The note of pity that tinged Harthorne’s voice made Colin stiffen in his chair. He never talked about his family life, and this was exactly why. It made him feel shame, and up until recently, he’d been supremely good at avoiding the emotion.
    “Name one woman you know who isn’t calculating,” Colin said.
    “My mother,” Harthorne replied with a triumphant grin.
    Colin waved a dismissive hand. “Your mother does not count.”
    “And why not?”
    “Because you are blind when it comes to your mother.” As well Harthorne should be. Most mothers showed their children love and affection, so the children forever thought them perfect, even when the youths grew into adults that should know better.
    “I won’t bother arguing the point about my mother,” Harthorne said, “because I know I would never convince you otherwise.”
    “How very astute of you,” Colin said. “Are you willing to concede that you cannot name a woman?”
    “Absolutely not. Give me a minute.”
    Harthorne pressed his fingers to his temples, but by his ever-whitening pallor, Colin couldn’t decide if his friend was really trying to think or was trying to rub away the pounding in his head.
    “My sister,” he finally said. “There is not a conniving bone in her body.”
    “You cannot name your sister,” Colin said, trying to block out the memory of how luscious she looked with her hair tumbling around her shoulders. “You are biased to her, as well.”
    “The devil I am. That little minx has driven me crazy my entire life with her mischievous ways and dreamy head. I’d be the last person in England to be biased about Amelia.”
    “Because you look as if you are about to keel over, I won’t argue with you about your sister―for now―but I guarantee you if your sister had a dozen beaus who offered her marriage she would pick the lord with the greatest title and wealth.”
    “Your words just prove you don’t know my sister in the slightest,” Harthorne said, standing. “I’ve got to take my leave, Aversley. I feel certain I’m about to lose the little bit of food left in my stomach.”
    With that, Harthorne dashed out of the dining room, leaving Colin with nothing but his thoughts, which devil take it, were firmly stuck on Lady Amelia―the way she had hidden in the library to make sure her brother was all right, her complimenting the fact that Colin was smart enough not to give women false hope, the way she looked in her night rail, the lovely craziness of her luxurious hair, and the way she slouched in an obvious attempt to appear shorter.
    Groaning at his inability to get the woman out of his thoughts, he stood and made his way outside, determined to practice with his rapier until he was too tired to think about Lady Amelia, his mother, and most especially himself.
     

 

    While sitting beside Constance on a picnic blanket, Amelia watched Lady Georgiana and Charles stroll arm in arm around the perimeter of the lake. They curved around the far corner near the woods and headed back