“Kenneth?” her father spat as if she’d said a grotesque word.
“I am to marry him, so why should I not use his Christian name?” She blinked, her entire body shaking with the force of this confrontation, but she’d not give in.
Her father stared at the letter again and shook his head. “He claims since he is a duke, he should be given preference,” he said, bitterness lacing each word.
“Should he not? Besides, he is wealthier and therefore better suited and more desirable, aside from having a higher rank. He is the fifth Duke in his line, whereas Lord Worcester is only the second Marquess in his. Adding to that, Kenneth’s ancestors were earls and viscounts.”
She was glad that Kenneth had told her his family history, so she might use it as leverage.
Her father’s shoulders drooped. He knew as well as she did that to decline the offer of a duke was unseemly. Kenneth outranked him by two rungs, and if he let it be known that he’d made such an offer and was rejected, her father would be looked at curiously. Likewise, it would not bode well for securing matches for Sally and Rosy.
“Like the Marquess, Kenneth agrees to forgo a dowry, and he will instead make a generous donation to the orphanage—more generous than what the Marquess has offered,” Joanna continued and crossed her arms.
She knew she’d won the argument already because her father had broken out in a sweat.
“I cannot allow this,” he said and then paused in front of his desk. “I gave my word to Worcester.”
“We are not betrothed. Nobody knows about the arrangement yet but us and him. There has been nothing announced on the broadsheets. Unless you spread the word, nobody will know,” Joanna argued.
Her father looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “I do not want to go back on my word.”
“You will have no choice, Father. An offer has been made—a better one—and I will not accept the Marquess.”
She held her father’s gaze as he stared at her incredulously. How was it possible that this man was the same one whom she’d loved dearly as a child? The man she’d admired?
Once, a long time ago, she thought her father was the very best man in the world. She’d hoped to have a husband like him one day, hoped her husband would be a good father like him. The sort of attentive, loving father.
But she’d come to understand that this was all an illusion. Her father had put on a facade for them all. Joanna was determined not to fall for his games and fallacies anymore. Not just his, but any man’s. For if her father—whom she’d thought so loyal, so kind—could be duplicitous, what hope was there for any other man?
As they looked at one another, she saw her father’s resolve crumble, and then, to her relief, he raised his arms and dropped them in a sign of resignation.
“Very well, Joanna. You refuse the Marquess in favor of a duke you do not know? You shall have it your way. But do not think for a moment that I am in favor of this, and do not think that I’m giving you my blessing. I only agree because I can see how determined you are and how humiliating it would be for Lord Worcester if you decide to make it known that there was another offer.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “But he does not deserve this, and you know it.”
And with that, her father sat at his desk, pulling a piece of parchment and his inkpot to write.
Joanna wetted her lips, took a deep breath, and turned away, knowing that she had won. At least, for now.
CHAPTER 6
“Kenneth, I hate to complain, but do you think we might start dinner? Leonard is more than half an hour late, and I am rather hungry,” the Dowager Duchess said from her place across the drawing room.
Kenneth glanced at the large grandfather clock in the corner. It was already half past eight, and there was no sign of his best friend.
“Of course, we shall begin,” he replied and then smoothed his black pantaloons as he rose and held out his arm to his mother.
Her taffeta gown—he thought that fabric was only used for ball gowns—rustled as she walked, and her long earrings dangled with each step.
When they stepped into the dining room, Kenneth smiled.
The space exuded an air of refined elegance, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight that danced off the fine china and silverware. It had been set up just as he’d requested.
Most nights, he ate alone in his study or the parlor, but he had decided a proper dinner was in order that night. After all, he had news to share. Not only that, but he also had to admit that he felt a little guilty over the way he’d spoken to his mother the last time she had called on him, and a fine dinner combined with the news she’d so longed for would make up for his less-than-gentlemanly behavior.
“Well, look at this,” the Dowager Duchess said as he pulled out her chair for her. “It is as it looked when I first moved here with your father. What a grand space. I’d almost assumed he’d decided to let the entire room be eaten by dust.”
Kenneth inhaled sharply, ignoring his mother’s slight. He loved her, but she often could not contain her disparaging comments.
“I am glad you approve, Mother,” he replied before sitting across from her.
