Not the Duke’s Intended by Patricia Haverton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Patricia Haverton
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
Three Years Later
The edge of the rug had lifted from the marble floor, and Owen
stamped it down with his boot. Then, he resumed his pacing, back
and forth, across the great entrance hall of the Castle. His jaw was clenched,
his steely blue eyes seemingly piercing everything they fixed upon.
“My darling, I cannot continue to witness you like this.” Evelyn Hill, the
Dowager Duchess of Rutledge, approached him slowly, and with a hand
placed on her son’s shoulder, she gave him calming, yet firm, reassurance.
“All will be well.”
“And if it is not?” countered Owen, his dagger-like stare finding his mother’s
gray eyes with sharp swiftness, before softening.
“Then we shall find another beautiful, charming girl to welcome into the
fold,” the Dowager replied. She smiled. “I have no such concerns as you, my
darling boy. For I have two of the most handsome, most eligible men in all of
the realm as my sons. And any woman who fails to adore them is a woman I
shall not wish to know.”
Owen gave a tight smile, before taking his mother’s gloved hand and lightly
kissing it. “You are indeed gracious, Mama,” he said. “Yet I am not
concerned with coquettish attentions and adoration. I am preoccupied solely
with the future of this family and its good name.”
“And I am concerned only for the happiness of my sons,” the Dowager said.
“Does that make me a poor excuse for a mother or a poor excuse for a
Dowager?”
Owen closed his eyes for a few seconds, and now his smile was less forced
than earlier. “I do not believe anyone could accuse you of either such terrible
things,” he said, softly. “But I fear that should all not go well, we may further
—”
He stopped abruptly at the sound of wheels rolling to the front of the Castle.
Leaving his mother behind, he coughed, straightened his waistcoat, and
strode to the door. The silent footman who stood straight as a poker to its
right leaned forward and opened it, as Owen stepped through and down the
steps.
The wide beam across his face, a beam that did not reach his eyes,
dropped at the sight of the large black carriage that had now come to a stop.
“Lord, give me strength,” he muttered as the door to the carriage was flung
open before the coachman sitting above had the chance to leap down. A
young man with boyish curls emerged and stumbled out from the carriage
with a wide grin.
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