Trapped with the Duke by Annabelle Anders

Engaged

Five days later and Collette had yet to change her mind about marrying Addison, even if he did also happen to be the Duke of Bedwell.

How could she, when her every waking hour was suddenly filled with shopping, social visits, wedding planning and studying? He’d come twice for tea since, looking more handsome with each visit. On one of those afternoons he’d even taken her driving—but there had been no stopping or long talks in a tea house as Polly, of course, had been sent along by Chase to act as chaperone.

On those two days Collette didn’t see her fiancé, she unrepentantly relived every second that she’d spent with him, over and over again. She imagined his voice as it had sounded in the stairwell, strained but still proud, the cautious excitement in his eyes when he’d shown her his books, and the sweet sincerity when he’d proposed.

At night, she recalled his hand on her leg, and how he had touched her right before Bethany had interrupted them.

Her face flushing warm at the memory, Collette dismissed the image and gathered her books onto her bed, crossing her legs beneath her.

All this, and she’d yet to have met his mother and brother, and until Addison was certain his mother had received his letter, they’d decided to hold off on sending any announcements to the Gazette.

Which only served to delay the inevitable, so Collette wasn’t about to complain. It meant a few more days of simply being Miss Collette Jones, illegitimate teacher, formerly of Miss Primm’s Private Seminary for the Education of Ladies.

Who, if she didn’t get to work, would fall behind on the studies with which she’d been tasked.

Miss Robins, the etiquette instructor Chase hired, had departed just before nuncheon, but not before dolling out a few hours’ worth of homework, something Collette hadn’t expected from a simple course in etiquette.

Collette had glanced through Debrett’s before, when she’d wanted to look up a particular nobleman’s actual title, but never had she considered that she’d be expected to memorize parts of it.

Diana had gotten off easy by marrying Greystone last spring.

Collette sighed and then flipped through the pages before stopping at the page she’d marked. Brierton, Bedwell, (Duke). Since Debrett’s was stingy when it came to her favorite duke, she closed it and opened the other book which was part of her homework: John Burke’s Dictionary of the Peerage and Baronetage. Although criticized for some inaccuracies, Burke’s book provided a reader with far more detailed information than Debrett’s.

Again, she’d placed markers between the most interesting pages.

Bedwell, Duke of, (Addison Holden Brierton) Marquess of St. Alastair, Earl of Samson, Baron Desart, lord-lieutenant and high steward of Bedwellshire, Born February 19th, 1801. Succeeded to the family honors upon the demise of his father in 1822.

Reading through, she noted that all of his ancestors from as far back as 1619 not a single one of them had been born to a man who was lower than an earl. Even if she had been legitimate, she would be a duchess born to the lowest title.

Motto, honor at all costs.

The entry listed the locations of both his town residence and country seat, but she knew from speaking with Addison that he held title to several other properties.

A book of great importance amongst the Ton, and yet it revealed very little about the actual man—about the caring he felt for his brother and the respect he afforded his mother, about the delightful stories he’d written and had yet to write, and that he had the ability to turn her bones to jelly with a single glance.

Collette deliberately dismissed such thoughts and set her mind to memorizing the list of names and dates of her future relations until, exhausted, she set the book aside and fell backward onto one of her pillows.

She might have been sacked from Miss Primm’s, but as far as these studies were concerned, she was determined not to fail.

Laying in gentle repose, Collette closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

She would master these lessons, enjoy the new wardrobe Bethany had ordered for her, and do her best not to collapse under the pressure of all that would be expected of her.

She’d refused to fail Bethany, or Chaswick, and especially Addison.

But most importantly of all, she would not fail herself.

* * *

Addison glancedaround the vast but sparsely furnished room, taking in the paintings that lined the walls, many of which he’d viewed before but in far less enchanting company.

Almost two weeks had passed since Collette accepted Addison’s proposal and he’d yet to have been left alone with her again. Even when he’d taken her driving, Lady Chaswick had insisted a maid ride along.

Every. Single. Time.

Trouble was, before becoming a devoted married man, the baron himself had been something of a rake, which unfortunately, meant he was privy to all the tricks.

Rather than lament their circumstances, however, Addison had taken it upon himself to escort his fiancée to some of his favorite places in London. Always with chaperones in tow—often Lord and Lady Chaswick themselves.

And he was enjoying himself.

Collette had a way of introducing him to new ideas about these old places, and the knowledge she’d shared from her study of Latin had already widened his perspective.

He never knew what to expect, and something about that was particularly freeing.

What wasn’t freeing was the sexual tension building from spending time in her company, touching her casually but never more than that, and never being allowed to be alone with her. That vibrating awareness grew more powerful every day—with every glance, with every touch.

He was beginning to think he’d brave locking the two of them inside a coat closet if he could find one.

A glance around had him meeting her brother’s watchful eyes. Ah, yes. Chaswick knew all too well the workings of a gentleman’s mind. Addison grimaced and shook his head ruefully.

“You smell like sweet cakes this morning,” he said softly, for her ears only.

She stopped and leaned in. “You smell like…” She closed her eyes and inhaled just below his chin. They were standing closer to one another than was particularly proper while in public, or anywhere really, but Addison simply waited while she contemplated his scent. “Leather, and… freshly cut wood. And something… something that is uniquely you.”

She drew back and met his gaze, blushing, revealing that she, too, was remembering the feel of his intimate touch almost two weeks before.

“Something good, I hope?” Addison cocked a brow.

“Oh, yes. And spicy… perhaps clove.” She leaned in to sniff him again. “I’m growing rather fond of it.” Damned if the tone of her voice couldn’t stir him into a rather inconvenient and potentially embarrassing state.

“Let’s keep moving, shall we?” Chaswick spoke from behind them.

“Oh, Chase, look at this one. I think your mother would love having something like this in her suite.” Lady Chaswick drew her husband across the room, allowing Addison and Collette a good ten feet of separation as they stepped into a special room of the exhibit.

Ironic that Addison could appreciate and yet resent the man’s relentless doggedness at the same time. He adjusted his trousers and forced himself to remember where they were.

“Oh, my.” Collette shivered beneath Addison’s hand as the two of them arrived at a large painting of a medieval castle. Set on the precipice of a cliff, an angry sea raged against it.

“Do you like this one?” he asked, always intrigued to know her opinion.

If she did, he would buy it for her, perhaps as a wedding gift, even if it was somewhat dark. Not that she ever asked for or expected anything of the sort from him, quite the opposite really. He’d never met a person so apathetic about owning material possessions as his fiancée.

He stared at her while she stared at it.

“I wouldn’t describe myself as liking it. It’s powerful, though, and depicts an… ill-fated hopelessness.”

“You see all of that?”

“The way the sea boils, and the fierce curl of the wave. It’s like a monster.” The second tremor that ran through her was even stronger.

“So you don’t like it?”

“Do you?” She twisted her neck around to meet his gaze responding with a question of her own. “What does it make you feel?”

In the past twelve days since she’d accepted his offer, Addison had learned that his fiancée didn’t ask questions without expecting a sincere answer.

He shifted his gaze from her expressive eyes back to the painting and then leaned forward to study it properly.

“Respect for those things that endure,” he said, not filtering his thoughts, something he only found himself doing when he was with her. “It doesn’t seem hopeless to me.”

She saw a threat in the painting whereas he appreciated the massive stones stacked upon one another, discolored and covered in moss but timeless, practically everlasting.

“Hmm…” she answered softly. “You don’t see that the tower is one giant wave away from falling into the sea?” Even her frown had the ability to charm him.

“Not at all.”

With a nod, signifying her acceptance of his answer, she turned, and Addison steered them along the corridor to the next painting. Behind them, he could feel her brother watching them.

She leaned closer and the whiff of vanilla he caught had him contemplating options other than closets. Behind a potted plant, perhaps, or…

“I didn’t realize you were such an optimist,” she said.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’m more of a realist than anything.”

The past two weeks of their engagement had consisted of a whirlwind of activity. In between the wedding planning spearheaded by Collette’s sister-in law, and her tutoring sessions, Addison had escorted her to the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, taken her to examine the curiosities at The Leverian, and today, a special exhibit at the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square.

Tonight Collette and Addison’s future in-laws would take in a performance of Macbeth as guests in his box at the Theatre-Royal.

Which he’d actually have looked forward to if it was not to be preceded by a formal dinner

Hosted by his mother.

Who had finally arrived in London and Collette would be meeting for the first time.

Addison hated that this thought teased him with a sense of dread.

She was his mother, blast and damn. She might prove to be somewhat difficult, but she would accept his decision. Although she had free rein in many things, his choice of wife was not one of them.

“I’m nervous about tonight.” Collette’s thoughts had apparently jumped to the same place as his. “She’s going to hate me.”

“It won’t be personal.” Addison had been honest with Collette regarding his mother’s… attitudes. “She’ll be like the sea, relentless, punishing and cold, but in the end, nothing she does is going to change a thing. And just like the sea, her storm will pass.”

Collette sent him a weak smile.

They’d arrived at a larger painting by now, this one of the same castle, at sunset though. The sea was like glass. “Did you plan this?”

He had not, although the illustration was rather convenient.

“Fate again.” His soft chortle mocked himself. When had fate become a part of his vocabulary? “Do you wish I hadn’t told you about her letter?”

“No.” But her answer was short. “I’ll be fine.”

The night she’d accepted his proposal, before he’d arranged for the banns to be read at St. George’s, Addison had written a letter to his mother and sent it to Brier Manor via special messenger. He hadn’t wanted her raising the hopes of any of her guests—or their daughters.

Nor had he wanted her to read of his betrothal in one of the papers she had delivered from London regularly.

Her response to his missive had come swiftly and left him in no doubt as to her scathing disapproval of the match he’d decided on. He’d hoped for a different response but not really expected anything else.

She’d also given him fair warning as to her pending arrival.

The very next day, he’d relayed the contents of the letter to Collette, over tea and ices at Gunter’s.

“She had other candidates in mind for my wife and has wholeheartedly declared our betrothal to be an abomination.”

Collette had stared across the table, eyes wide. “Please tell me you are teasing.”

“No. I thought you’d want the unvarnished truth.”

“I do. I mean, I thought I would. But… you knew she would respond like this! Why didn’t you tell me before—”

“Before you pledged your troth to mine?” he’d finished for her.

“Well… yes. I suppose.”

“Because I didn’t wish to give you more reasons to refuse me.” In that moment, he’d wondered if he shouldn’t have insisted on having some privacy for this conversation. That way he’d have been able to distract her from her dismay using tactics that would leave her not giving a damn what his mother thought.

She’d glared at him and he’d leaned forward, wishing he could soften her mouth with a kiss.

“I am marrying you, not to please my mother, nor to please society, nor even to please your brother,” Addison had barely suppressed a frustrated growl. “I’m marrying you because… I want to. And because I believe the two of us will be happy together.”

He assumed his response had been what she needed to hear when she’d reached over and squeezed his wrist.

The small hand on his arm brought him back to the present. “If she’s your mother, she can’t be all that terrifying, can she?” Weakness strained Collette’s voice.

“She will grow to love you, in time.”

He did not add that it might take a decade or two. Adding to her nervousness, at this point, would benefit no one.

* * *

“I’m going to be ill,”Collette announced from the backward-facing bench in the carriage as she, Bethany, and Chase drove the short distance to Addison’s Mayfair townhouse. She rather felt like a woman being carried to the gallows.

“Do we need to pull over?” Bethany asked.

Collette could just make out her sister-in-law’s concerned expression in the shadows.

“No. But I wouldn’t mind turning around and going home.” She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she’d dreaded this meeting since… even before Addison told her his mother disapproved of their marriage.

She’d known his mother wouldn’t approve before she’d accepted him. What duchess in her right mind would want her son marrying someone like Collette?

“Buck up, Cole. It’s not as though you’re going in there alone.” Chase wasn’t quite as sympathetic.

“That’s right. Bedwell won’t stand by and allow her to eat you alive.” Bethany actually giggled at this.

He wouldn’t. Would he?

“What do I say to her, though? How do I respond when she insults me?” Because she would. Collette had no doubt of that.

A flash of longing for her own mother swept through her. As a fallen woman, her mother had faced insults nearly every time she’d ventured out. Her mother would have known exactly how to handle the duchess—if only she could have been present tonight. Feeling like she was a child again, the back of Collette’s eyes stung.

“Remember what Miss Robins has taught you; take the high road even when you don’t feel like it and you will emerge the better person.” Miss Robins was the woman hired to instruct her in all matters of social importance. Collette had expected her tutor to be an elderly spinster, stern and unmoving, but instead found herself pleasantly surprised when she’d discovered Miss Robins to be enthusiastic and even inspiring. Collette especially enjoyed that her tutor had a sense of humor—and that she not only taught the rules that must be followed, but explained why they existed in the first place.

And when the reasons were ridiculous, she acknowledged that as well.

“Here we are,” Chase announced as the carriage drew to a halt in front of an elegant but not grandiose townhouse. Addison had pointed it out to her on one of their drives, but until tonight, she’d not been invited inside.

It would not have been proper for her to enter her fiancé’s residence unchaperoned.

A wave of fear hit her as the carriage door was pulled open, and she drew in a steadying breath while Bethany climbed out in front of her.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Chase met her gaze, one brow cocked. When she hesitated, he added, “Murder? Bloodshed?”

“No.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of his question. But then she gave the suggestion serious contemplation. “She could always poison my food.”

“Have one of the footmen taste each dish before you eat then.” Her brother’s eyes sparkled enough that she could see he was trying not to laugh.

“But then some poor servant would die.”

“I doubt she’ll go to those lengths. Too much of a scandal.” He held out a hand to assist her to the open door.

Addison awaited her just outside, dressed immaculately and looking so handsome that, for a moment, she forgot all about his mother.

She forgot all about everything except for him.

“I was beginning to think you were going to order your driver to turn around and deliver you back to Byrd House.” He clasped her gloved hand in his, the warmth in his gaze wrapping around her. “I’m pleased that wasn’t the case.”

As the meeting of one’s future mother-in-law was a pivotal occasion in any woman’s life, Collette and Bethany had gone back and forth determining which gown she ought to wear. And now, glancing down, she was glad they’d decided on the peacock silk.

The cut was delightfully modern, the skirt billowing out from her waist with an asymmetrical lace overlay, tightly fitted bodice, and puffed sleeves that draped on her arm as though tired. She had never worn anything as elaborate.

Addison tucked her hand into the crook of his arm to greet Chase and Bethany.

As a single rider approached from the opposite end of the drive, he dipped his chin. “My brother.”

Collette studied the imposing-looking gentleman as he approached their little group. She had been curious about his older brother for almost as long as she’d known Addison, and she couldn’t help but search his features for similarities to her fiancé as he dismounted.

“Row, may I present my future bride, Miss Collette Jones. Collette, my brother. Mr. Rowan Stewart.”

“Miss Jones, my pleasure.” White teeth flashed against the man’s bronze skin and when he removed his hat to bow, the waning sunlight reflected off his smooth, equally dark scalp.

“I am pleased to finally meet you.” Collette curtseyed, taking note of his fine clothing and a familiar Bedwellian tilt to his head. She’d known from what Addison told her that his brother was half Barbadian but aside from his coloring and smoothly shaven head, he seemed more English than anything else.

As Addison introduced the man to Chase and Bethany, Collette appreciated the obvious affection he had for his younger brother. It was the first time she’d seen her fiancé in the company of anyone other than casual acquaintances or her own family.

And if his brother was such a kind gentleman, how horrible could Addison’s mother be?

“Mother’s waiting in the drawing room.” Addison gestured toward the door where a somber butler stood holding it wide.

Mr. Stewart grimaced at the announcement and sent her a pitying glance. “I would wish you luck,” he surprised her by saying, “if I thought it would help.”

“Well then,” she exhaled, willing her feet to walk up the steps to the door. “In case I don’t come out alive, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“You can do this,” Bethany whispered loudly from behind her. At least if Collette was to be dropped from the gallows, she wouldn’t have to endure it alone.

The ceiling in the foyer was three stories high, with a wide staircase on the right, and elaborate molding framing every angle. Paintings hung on the ivory-colored walls, and a few busts were placed on pedestals. When one noticed the flowers in out of the way niches, and vases, it was, all in all, decidedly overwhelming.

Was the effect intentional?

A giant crystal chandelier hung over head, and the flooring was a cool white marble threaded with grays and silvers.

It was pristine, perfect, cold, and she was helpless at suppressing the shiver that ran through her when she handed her coat over to the unsmiling butler.

“This way, Collette.” Addison led her to a set of large double doors on the left, held open by two uniformed footmen.

At the very least, she expected to see the woman seated on one of the long settees, but the room appeared empty. That was, until she caught sight of the woman standing at the window, presenting her back to her guests.

“Mother.” Addison’s voice echoed off the marble.

“Bedwell.” The woman’s cultured voice could have cut the glass she was staring through.

“Allow me to present my fiancée.” He spoke with his normal conviction and Collette hoped she would sound half as confident.

“But you are not betrothed.” The woman turned around, holding herself regally.

The duchess’s hair was mostly gold but had tiny threads of silver and had been pinned ornately atop her head. The gown she wore, simple and timeless, made Collette feel gauche and unsophisticated. His mother was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen.

The woman’s gaze flicked to Chase and Bethany. “Nothing personal, Chaswick. Although I must admit, your father had the right idea, keeping them out of the public eye.”

Chase’s eyes narrowed but Bethany cleared her throat beside him.

“Good evening, Your Grace. Looking lovely as usual.” Mr. Stewart was the last to slip inside, a second undercurrent entering with him despite his compliment.

And although the duchess appeared almost serene, she was not at all successful at hiding her feelings for Addison’s brother. Even from across the room, it was all too apparent to anyone with eyes, that she hated him.

Undaunted, Mr. Stewart moved across to a large sideboard to pour himself a drink from one of the amber-filled crystal decanters.

“Of course, by all means, avail yourself to my liquor, Rowan.” Addison’s mother had yet to even acknowledge Collette’s presence, and surprisingly, rather than feel embarrassed for herself, Collette felt embarrassed for the duchess.

Her own mother, a kept woman who’d been spurned by all of society, would never treat guests so rudely.

Collette stepped away from Addison. “I am Miss Collette Jones.” She would not cower. She’d cowered for Mrs. Metcalf and that had gotten her nowhere.

The duchess’s eyes finally landed on her. They were the same color as Addison’s but might as well have been chips of ice.

“Miss Jones,” she deigned to respond, but before Collette could drop into her practiced curtsey, the woman turned her attention to Addison. “I took the liberty of inviting a few special guests. Lord and Lady Huntly and their daughter. You remember Lady Isabella, don’t you? Such a beauty—the perfect English Rose, as they say.”

So this was to be the duchess’s first gambit… The woman had only agreed to this dinner at Addison’s request. It was to have been a small “family” affair. By not abiding by her son’s wishes, she’d revealed something about herself.

She lacked the honor her son had in spades.

Collette flicked her glance between the two. By now she recognized the subtle ticking in his jaw and the manner in which he twisted his ducal ring on his finger. Aside from those two giveaways, he hid his annoyance well.

More guests appeared at the door, an elderly couple with a petite lady behind them. With a start, Collette realized that she was already acquainted with the duchess’s “special guests.”

She and Diana had met Lady Isabella last spring. The young woman looked to be barely ten and seven and she was, indeed, a beauty.

She was also the same woman the Marquess of Greystone had passed over in favor of marrying a woman who was not at all respectable or suitable, but happened to be the woman he loved.

Collette’s sister.

And Collette would feel sorry for the girl if it wasn’t her fiancé that Lord Huntly had set his sights on now.

Addison drew Collette closer at the same time the duchess clasped her hand around his other arm. “You’ll allow me to steal him away for a moment, won’t you, dear? To greet our guests?” Her smile wouldn’t have seemed anything but genuine but for the venom in her eyes.

Addison released her with a reluctant grimace.

Take the high road.Her tutor’s advice echoed in her thoughts. The high road did not involve playing tug of war with one’s fiancé.

Nodding, she dropped her hand and stepped back.

* * *

Addison knewhis mother’s games all too well; he’d watched her play them on numerous occasions. In the past, they’d been mostly harmless.

It had been a mistake for him to think they would be harmless tonight.

Rowan was used to it. His brother had refused to allow the duchess to estrange him from Addison and Fiona and had long since learned how to fight his own battles.

But Collette, despite her intrepid spirit, was out of her depths.

As he shook Lord Huntly’s hand, and then bowed to the man’s wife and daughter, Addison refused to be distracted from the woman he was intent upon celebrating that night.

“I was unaware that you were joining us this evening,” he announced, turning so as to include all of his guests in their conversation. “However, my fiancée and I are happy to share our celebration with others, aren’t we, Collette?”

Addison’s mother gasped beside him, and he couldn’t help but be aware of Lord Huntly’s displeasure.

Addison ignored them both in favor of admiring the woman he intended to marry.

Rather than cower in the face of his mother’s nastiness, she looked proud… and radiant.

And in that moment, he had no doubt that she would succeed wholeheartedly at anything she set her mind to.

His sweet girl dipped her chin almost haughtily, squared her shoulders, and moved toward him, looking graceful, and by God, every inch the duchess she would soon become.

“What a wonderful surprise it is to see you again, my lady.” Her lips tilted up just enough to make her greeting welcoming.

A duchess, indeed.

Etiquette demanded that he present Collette to the earl and countess, but she was already acquainted with their daughter. After they’d wed, even earls and marquesses would be presented to her. But first they had his mother to navigate.

He kept one hand on the small of Collette’s back, determined not to fall into any of the other traps that would have been laid out for the evening.

He loved his mother, he always would, but he refused to allow her to treat his future duchess with anything but respect.

When Collette had refused his initial proposal, at the school, all those weeks ago, this was precisely the sort of thing she had dreaded. And yet tonight she had knowingly entered the lion’s den.

For him?

For both of them?

But it was also for her. And seeing her like this, he determined to be at least half as brave. His challenge, he already knew, would be supporting his fiancée without having to dishonor his mother.

“And my future sister- and brother-in-law.” Addison gestured toward Lord and Lady Chaswick.

“We are already acquainted with the baron and baroness.” Lady Huntly’s tone was clipped. “But we had always understood him to be his father’s only child.”

Chaswick’s gaze hardened, and, in that moment, Addison gratefully realized that he and Collette did not face the evening without reinforcements.

“I am my father’s only son,” Chaswick provided. “But I have three sisters.”

Addison knew Collette enough to realize that watching her brother defend her would not be easy. “And for that,” he inserted, “I, for one, am exceedingly glad.”

“Dinner is served, Your Grace.”

Beneath his hand, Addison felt Collette’s exhale of relief at the interruption. More than once, he’d wondered if the dinner was a mistake, he’d wondered even, if he should have simply married Collette in a private ceremony, by special license, and later presented his new bride to his mother as a fait accompli.

But he didn’t want her to think he was ashamed of her in any way, nor did he want society to think the same.

“I am honored to escort your fiancée into dinner.” Rowan stepped away from the wall where he’d been watching the drama unfold. “And might I add, bravo. First points of the evening to the bridegroom. I’m quite looking forward to more of the same.”

His brother, perhaps even better than Addison, understood his mother’s games. They were usually played at Rowan’s expense.

Addison relinquished Collette regretfully, but he was certain she would be safe with Row. Perhaps Rowan would provide her with a few suggestions for dealing with the duchess.

“At least you haven’t forgotten all of your manners.” His mother appeared at his side to take hold of his arm. The others paired up according to rank to follow them through to the dining room. Collette and Rowan, of course, would be last.

“Why would you imagine I had forgotten any?” Addison refused to allow her to goad him.

“She’s positively vulgar in comparison to Lady Isabella. Surely you must see that. Honestly, Addison, I cannot imagine what you’ve been thinking. Why can’t you simply take her as a mistress? She’s practically been raised for that. Even with the baron’s obvious stubbornness, surely you and that woman can come to some other—er—private arrangement.”

“Don’t push me, Mother.” But she had already gone too far. Should he bring the evening to an inauspicious ending in light of her behavior?

Collette was smiling now at something Rowan was saying.

He’d wait.

So long as she was holding up, he would as well.

“Lady Isabella is perfect for you, Bedwell. You’ve known for some time that she’s at the top of my list. Greystone was a fool to allow her to get away last spring.”

A footman pulled out the chair at the foot of the table for his mother, and Addison waited at the opposite end until all the ladies were seated before taking his own.

Collette sent him a reassuring glance from a few settings away, still looking confident. Ironic, really. He ought to be the one reassuring her.

Rowan sat beside her, and just across from them, Lady Isabella.

Lady Isabella’s father sat at his right, of course, as the highest-ranking male guest. What had his mother expected? That he would discuss marriage contracts with the man?

It ought to have been Chaswick seated there—his future brother-in-law.

Lifting the wine glass to his lips, Addison clenched his jaw. He would not accept responsibility for keeping Lord Huntly happy. His mother had led the earl to believe Addison wished to court their daughter, and so he would leave it to her to make the necessary apologies.

As the first delicacy of the evening was served, Addison sat back quietly, allowing conversation to proceed without him. He was, in fact, content to enjoy the various wines he’d ordered while observing Collette charm those seated around her—surprisingly, even Lady Isabella and the girl’s mother.

As though sensing she’d gone too far, his own mother held her tongue through the first few courses. But Addison would not drop his guard. He had no doubt it was only a retreat, not a full-out surrender.

He gestured for the footman to fill his glass.

In the end, the duchess wasn’t going to win. Addison was going to marry Collette and if his mother couldn’t accept that gracefully, he’d send her away to where her disapproval wouldn’t matter.

“Have you had a chance to view the latest exhibit at the National Gallery yet?” Lady Chaswick brought up their outing earlier that day. “The display is a rather magnificent one.”

“Lady Isabella is an excellent painter, is she not, my lord?” Addison’s mother suddenly came to life.

“Indeed. We have a room set aside in Battleford Park, where we have them displayed.” Lady Huntly enthused. “You must visit, Your Grace, in order to truly appreciate the extent of her talents.”

“Perhaps sometime after the wedding.” Addison leaned back, unwilling to discuss Lady Isabella and her many talents. Not that she wasn’t a pleasant young lady, but he’d leave the regaling of her talents for some other bachelor.

“Several months after,” Addison added, feeling goaded. “As I’m considering a tour of the Continent for our wedding journey. How would you feel about that, Collette?”

It was beyond rude of him to dismiss the countess’s invitation so casually, and yet some devil prodded him, nonetheless.

Even Collette looked nonplussed by his brutish behavior. Of course, she would be taken aback by it; she’d been tutored daily on proper behavior in the few weeks since they’d become engaged,

She flicked a glance to her sister-in-law, and then back to him before answering, “I think that would be wonderful.”

“Enough, Addison,” his mother hissed.

“You’ll be finished with your project by the time we return, eh, Row?” He ignored his mother. “And if you decide to sell, perhaps my duchess would prefer that we take up residence in a more modern home.”

“If we can keep the vandals away. I’m going to have to hire a few men to guard the site, it seems, if I’m to avoid further delays.”

Chaswick leaned forward in his chair. “The new manor on Park Street? I, for one, was glad to see Odwick’s torn down. It had become quite the eyesore. What exactly are your plans?”

Everyone present seemed a little relieved to listen to Rowan explain the design, the advantages of that piece of property, and the plans he had to invigorate the gardens.

“And this is for yourself?” Lady Chaswick asked.

“I haven’t yet decided.” Rowan met Addison’s gaze. “You are welcome to give Miss Jones a tour.”

Addison rubbed his chin. Living somewhere separate from his mother was a rather appealing idea.

“But there is no need,” his mother snapped. “As Bedwell, it’s only fitting that you reside in your ancestral home.”

“Brier House is barely a hundred years old,” he pointed out. “Not exactly ancestral.”

“What about Fiona?” His mother obviously did not appreciate the direction of this conversation. Not if she was willing to bring Fi into it.

“She could stay at either.”

“You are not moving out of Brier House, and you are not marrying that woman.” Such an outburst from his mother, from a duchess, invoked a wave of discomfort not easily dismissed.

Chaswick moved to stand but his wife stayed him with a wince. Rowan shook his head and it appeared Lady Huntly and her daughter might simultaneously burst into tears.

Even Lord Huntly shifted in his seat.

But it was the expression on Collette’s face that caused Addison’s heart to drop.

“Excuse me.” She struggled to push her chair back until one of the footmen stepped forward to assist her.

“Most unfortunate, Bedwell. We’ll be taking my sister home now.” Chaswick was assisting his wife up as well and turned his glare on Addison’s mother. “I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, Your Grace. However, in the light of your reception, I’ll refrain.”

“Let’s do it again sometime.” Rowan was leaning back in his chair, looking far more entertained than was necessary, and for a fleeting second, but not for the first time, Addison wished it was he who had been born out of wedlock.

“We’re done here.” Addison rose, tossing his napkin on his chair. He’d allowed this to go too far. “Lord Huntly, Lady Huntly. My apologies, Chaswick, my lady.”

He didn’t bother with any other niceties as he bolted from the room, anxious to catch up to Collette who’d already managed to flee.

He needed to get to her. He’d purchase that special license and they could be married by this time tomorrow.

Damn his mother to hell.

He’d grown rather fond of the idea of marrying Collette. More than fond, actually. His heart squeezed at the possibility that Collette might change her mind.

“Miss Jones wished to relay to her family that she will meet them at home.” Addison’s butler was all disapproval as he imparted Collette’s message. Sensing excitement, Zeus and Hera appeared in the entry as well.

“Tell Lord Chaswick I’ll ensure her safe return.” And without bothering to wait for an answer, Addison flew out the door.

He was so intent on catching up with her, he didn’t bother rebuking the dogs when they raced along the walk beside him.