The Duke I’m Going to Marry (Farthingale Series Book 2) by Meara Platt
Authors: Meara Platt
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discreetly moving on.”
“Trust me, he isn’t going to meet her later. He isn’t interested in what she’s offering.” They hadn’t taken three steps before Rose began to unload more pearls of wisdom. Dillie hadn’t asked for her sister’s opinion; however, Rose was a Farthingale and therefore felt compelled to give it. “True, the widow is obviously moon-eyed over him, but look at the tension in his stance. Something’s troubling him. His mother, no doubt. I wonder if she’ll show up here this evening.”
Dillie shook her head. “I hope not.”
Rose let out a light, mirthless chuckle. “And Lady Withnall hopes she will. The tiny terror thrives on the misery of others. She adores ugly scenes. I’m sure the duke will slip away from the party if his mother does show up. He’d rather be thought of as a coward than ever allow their family troubles to be put on public display.” She paused to study Dillie. “Not that anyone would ever consider him a coward. He’s proved himself in battle. He can also be ruthless when pushed too far, so don’t you go running to his rescue. He doesn’t need your help. He doesn’t need anyone’s help.”
Dillie didn’t bother to reply since no response was necessary. However, she was grateful for the reminder about Ian. Rose’s words were painfully true. Ian didn’t need anyone. He didn’t want anyone to complicate his life.
He didn’t need or want her.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Charles has claimed the second dance. I had better write him into my dance card.”
“Who’s taking the first? Father?”
Dillie laughed. “No, his gout is acting up. Uncle George isn’t here yet, and our cousin William has already disappeared into the card room. I suppose you’ll have to keep me company in the meanwhile.”
Rose locked arms with her. “Good, I haven’t seen nearly enough of you lately. Gives us more time to find out about the duke’s mother.”
Dillie gazed at her in confusion. “You must be jesting. Didn’t you just warn me not to get involved in his family woes?”
Rose rolled her eyes. “I warned you not to get involved with him . Hearing the latest gossip about him and his family is quite a different matter. Ah, there’s Daisy. Laurel’s with her. Oh, they’re talking to Lady Withnall. I can see her egret feather madly bobbing in front of them. Utterly perfect. Let’s join them. I’m sure the old snoop has plenty to tell us all. No doubt she spent the entire afternoon prying every sordid detail from the dowager duchess.”
“Who was more than willing to disclose every rotten thing she could think of about her son.” Dillie felt another small pang to her heart. What had Ian done to make the old dowager detest him so much? She thought of what her father often said. People don’t change. But if that were true, how could one reconcile the detestable son and the Ian she knew?
Rose nudged her forward. “Come on. Let’s greet them. It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Engaging in gossip, encouraging gossip, is in no way polite.”
Rose shrugged. “Fine. I’m a snoop. So are you, though you’re not ready to admit it. Stop dawdling. Lady Withnall, that bloodhound, must have spilled everything to Daisy and Laurel by now.”
Rose grabbed Dillie’s elbow and propelled her to Lady Withnall’s side, where they exchanged warm greetings with their sisters, the feared harridan, and Aunt Julia, who had joined them. Though Julia had merely married into the family, she was just as much a snoop as any Farthingale and fit in perfectly. She was always at the ready with unasked for advice. Yes, a true Farthingale in spirit, though not a blood relation.
In truth, Dillie liked Julia and would always consider her a part of the family. Her husband, Harry Farthingale, had died years ago in Napoleon’s war, and after a long period of mourning Julia had remarried. She seemed content in her new marriage, but had remained as close as ever to
“Trust me, he isn’t going to meet her later. He isn’t interested in what she’s offering.” They hadn’t taken three steps before Rose began to unload more pearls of wisdom. Dillie hadn’t asked for her sister’s opinion; however, Rose was a Farthingale and therefore felt compelled to give it. “True, the widow is obviously moon-eyed over him, but look at the tension in his stance. Something’s troubling him. His mother, no doubt. I wonder if she’ll show up here this evening.”
Dillie shook her head. “I hope not.”
Rose let out a light, mirthless chuckle. “And Lady Withnall hopes she will. The tiny terror thrives on the misery of others. She adores ugly scenes. I’m sure the duke will slip away from the party if his mother does show up. He’d rather be thought of as a coward than ever allow their family troubles to be put on public display.” She paused to study Dillie. “Not that anyone would ever consider him a coward. He’s proved himself in battle. He can also be ruthless when pushed too far, so don’t you go running to his rescue. He doesn’t need your help. He doesn’t need anyone’s help.”
Dillie didn’t bother to reply since no response was necessary. However, she was grateful for the reminder about Ian. Rose’s words were painfully true. Ian didn’t need anyone. He didn’t want anyone to complicate his life.
He didn’t need or want her.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Charles has claimed the second dance. I had better write him into my dance card.”
“Who’s taking the first? Father?”
Dillie laughed. “No, his gout is acting up. Uncle George isn’t here yet, and our cousin William has already disappeared into the card room. I suppose you’ll have to keep me company in the meanwhile.”
Rose locked arms with her. “Good, I haven’t seen nearly enough of you lately. Gives us more time to find out about the duke’s mother.”
Dillie gazed at her in confusion. “You must be jesting. Didn’t you just warn me not to get involved in his family woes?”
Rose rolled her eyes. “I warned you not to get involved with him . Hearing the latest gossip about him and his family is quite a different matter. Ah, there’s Daisy. Laurel’s with her. Oh, they’re talking to Lady Withnall. I can see her egret feather madly bobbing in front of them. Utterly perfect. Let’s join them. I’m sure the old snoop has plenty to tell us all. No doubt she spent the entire afternoon prying every sordid detail from the dowager duchess.”
“Who was more than willing to disclose every rotten thing she could think of about her son.” Dillie felt another small pang to her heart. What had Ian done to make the old dowager detest him so much? She thought of what her father often said. People don’t change. But if that were true, how could one reconcile the detestable son and the Ian she knew?
Rose nudged her forward. “Come on. Let’s greet them. It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Engaging in gossip, encouraging gossip, is in no way polite.”
Rose shrugged. “Fine. I’m a snoop. So are you, though you’re not ready to admit it. Stop dawdling. Lady Withnall, that bloodhound, must have spilled everything to Daisy and Laurel by now.”
Rose grabbed Dillie’s elbow and propelled her to Lady Withnall’s side, where they exchanged warm greetings with their sisters, the feared harridan, and Aunt Julia, who had joined them. Though Julia had merely married into the family, she was just as much a snoop as any Farthingale and fit in perfectly. She was always at the ready with unasked for advice. Yes, a true Farthingale in spirit, though not a blood relation.
In truth, Dillie liked Julia and would always consider her a part of the family. Her husband, Harry Farthingale, had died years ago in Napoleon’s war, and after a long period of mourning Julia had remarried. She seemed content in her new marriage, but had remained as close as ever to
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