Once he was seated, Kate said, “I don’t remember this constant hunger when I was confined with the girls.”

Max smiled as he swallowed. “All the more reason I’m certain he will be a boy.”

Hell, he prayed her child would be a boy. Then the babe would become the new duke and he could return home and remain simply Maxwell Granville, country barrister.

“Perhaps,” Kate allowed. “Although the betting book at White’s apparently disagrees.” She rolled her eyes to the ornately plastered ceiling and back again. “My brother tells me that several wagers have been made and the majority believe that the child will be daughter number four.”

The duchess’s countenance was soft and serene, as if either outcome would make her equally happy. But he wondered if her smile was hiding the same worries his polite one did, simply in reverse.

They’d teased back and forth about it, but surely she hoped just as much as he did for a boy.

She’d never said, of course—she’d never be so gauche. And he would never ask her outright.

Just as she’d never asked him what his desire was, though he’d made it clear from the beginning. She likely didn’t believe him. She probably just thought he was being considerate of her feelings, given all she had to lose.

After all, who wouldn’t want to be a duke?

It was like an unspoken weight hanging in the air all the time.

Besides, it mattered not what either of them wanted. Both of their futures depended on the sex of the child Kate was carrying, fairness be damned.

It was time to change the subject.

“I believe I owe you a story. Let’s see…” He proceeded to regale her with the happenings of the morning, starting with his desire to see Hyde Park without all of the fashionable people who would descend upon it later in the day. Then he told her of the banshee he’d seen chasing off the geese, his rescue of her and finally of his swim to save the puppy—playing it all up in a most hilarious manner.

By the time he finished, Kate was wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks.

“I’m dying to know,” she said as her chuckles subsided. “What name did your mystery lady give?”

“She did not,” Max said. “But you should have seen her. She was quite fierce.” And lovely. Exceedingly lovely.

Kate’s brows dipped. “You said she had a maid with her? Do you think she was one of us?”

One of us. Max knew Kate meant one of the aristocracy. Just the question made his laughter flee and his cravat tighten. He might be a chance birth away from becoming a duke, but as a distant second-cousin who’d lived his entire life far removed from this world, he hardly felt like ‘one of us’. Nor did he wish to.

But he understood what Kate was asking. “I would say yes, given the quality of her clothing, the way she spoke and how she carried herself—apart from when she was running down the geese, of course.” It was on the tip of his tongue to give a description of her—given her striking black hair, startlingly green eyes and uncommon beauty, he was sure Kate would recognize her if she’d ever seen her before.

The words died upon his lips, however. He knew enough about life in the ton to know that even their innocent encounter could be misconstrued by gossips, and he didn’t wish the young lady any harm. He decided her identity was better left unknown.

As if echoing his thoughts, Kate said, “It’s probably for the best. You must be more careful. Once your identity becomes known, many an enterprising young miss will be after you. It’s not often a young, handsome duke comes on the market. One with all of his teeth, no less.”

She smiled at him, but her eyes clouded with sadness. Her own husband had been young and handsome, he knew—a man still very much in his prime. Theirs had been the match of the season thirteen years ago. His sudden death had been a shock to all who knew him. He’d simply grabbed his forehead, wincing in pain, and then he was gone.

“And if not the young ladies,” she went on, “then their match-making mamas or alliance-seeking papas. You’ll need to stay sharp to avoid their snares.”

Max shuddered. All the more reason he hoped to be headed home once the new heir of Albemarle made his appearance.

“Speaking of,” Kate said after polishing off the last bite of pastry on her plate. “The Earl of Montgomery sent round a note. He plans to call this afternoon and wishes for you to make yourself available to him.”

Max didn’t groan, but he wanted to.

The Earl of Montgomery had been the late duke’s mentor in Parliament, and should Kate’s baby be a boy, was set to oversee the estates until the new duke was of age to run them on his own.

Montgomery had also tasked himself with familiarizing Max with all of the responsibilities of the dukedom, should the child be a girl instead. He could not be put off.

Then the way Kate had announced Montgomery’s visit gave him pause. They’d been speaking of alliance-seeking papas… “Speaking of?”

Kate nodded. “Oh yes, Lord Montgomery has long wished for a ducal alliance. Had his daughters not been too young when Samuel and I married, I daresay Lord Montgomery would have physically shoved me into the Serpentine to secure the duke for one of them.”

Max thought about what the young lady in the park had said under her breath. Because I’ve been ordered to land a duke.

Could the woman he’d met be…? No, not likely. He’d met the earl several times these past weeks and he couldn’t imagine that such an exotic beauty had been sired by such a plain-looking Englishman.

It was more likely that several young ladies—and their parents—had the potential new duke in their matrimonial crosshairs already, sight unseen. Max swallowed. As if he didn’t have enough reasons not to want the dukedom, the idea of being ruthlessly pursued for a title and not because of who he was as a person…

It seemed like he would have to be more careful. He already kept to himself, didn’t go out in society, and wore only his own wardrobe—that of a poor-ish country barrister—even though both Kate and Montgomery had tried to press him into visiting the tailor first thing. He’d laughed them off, saying he didn’t wish to spend any of his new nephew’s inheritance, but the truth of it was, he just didn’t want to put on any trappings of the dukedom—lest it trap him.

Unreasonable, yes. Superstitious even. But there it was.

“I believe the eldest daughter is recently engaged, but I imagine Lord Montgomery is practically giddy that his youngest might have a chance at you,” Kate finished.

Max shook his head firmly. “Not if I can help it.”

The face of the woman from the park this morning flashed through his mind. Maybe if it were she… No, not even then. She was already after a duke. He could never trust that her feelings were real if they were to meet as who they truly were.

Besides, apparently the real danger was that he’d be inveigled into a meeting with Montgomery’s daughter, and soon. If he were a father, he’d make sure his own chit got her introductions before the rest of the pack even sniffed the potential duke out.

He’d have to do everything he could to avoid the Earl of Montgomery’s daughter, whoever she was.




CHAPTER 3




“DUKE! DUKE, COME BACK HERE!”

The little spaniel ignored Emmaline as he bounded off around the turn in the footpath, barking excitedly at something or other that had caught his attention.

“Want me to go after him this time, miss?” Molly asked, but her pained expression made it clear that she was hoping Emmaline would decline.

“No,” Emmaline sighed. “I daresay we’ll catch up to him eventually.”

The pup had the vigor of three of her father’s hounds. He tore around the house like a whirling dervish, constantly under someone’s feet. Just this morning, one of her mother’s favorite Limoges vases had been a casualty of Duke’s boundless energy. The countess had been only too happy to send Emmaline and the puppy—properly chaperoned by her maid, of course—off to get his exercise somewhere else. Anywhere else.

So she’d chosen to return to Hyde Park.

And if she’d selected a footpath along the southern end of the park rather than staying to the eastern edge nearer her home in Mayfair, so what? It most certainly wasn’t because that was the direction the man from yesterday had departed toward, and she hoped she might see him again.

No, it wasn’t. Not at all.

Up ahead, Duke’s barks ceased abruptly. Too abruptly.

“Oh,” Emmaline exhaled an indulgent, if exasperated, breath. “What has that little rascal gotten into now? I swear, he’d best not have let those geese chase him into the lake again or we very well may leave him there.”

Still, she picked up her skirts and hurried her steps, just in case he needed rescuing.

She huffed a laugh as she ran. When her father had ordered her to catch a duke, she was quite certain this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

As she came around the bend, her feet stilled and her heart leapt into her throat, where it fluttered wildly.

For there was Duke, happily content in the arms of her handsome stranger.

The dog’s long tail swished with enthusiasm as he heaped puppy love upon his obviously remembered savior.

Emmaline’s heart seemed to beat in the same eager rhythm upon seeing the man again—which was ridiculous, she knew. Nothing could come of their acquaintance. They weren’t even acquainted, for that matter.

And yet…she couldn’t explain the feeling that bubbled inside her chest, rising with the effervescent sting of good champagne. She only knew she liked it. It made her feel alive.

The man looked up at her then, and a smile broke over his face.

“I thought this fellow looked familiar,” he said, “though I hardly recognized him not soaking wet and covered in mud.” He ruffled Duke’s fur affectionately. “You clean up nicely, young master Duke.”