Read Online To Marry The Duke by Julianne MacLean - Free Book Online Page B

a late-morning gown of dark blue merino, rolled her hair up into a fashionable twist, and made her way downstairs to the parlor to join her mother and Florence for morning tea.
    She stopped just inside the doorway. There on the table in the center of the room was a large bouquet of red roses.
    She looked at her mother. “Heavens, where did these come from?”
    Sophia walked slowly toward the bouquet, gently pulled a single flower to her nose, and inhaled the enchanting scent.
    “Read the card and see for yourself,” her mother replied in a joyful, slightly smug voice.
    Sophia made her way around to the other side, where the card was lying on the marble tabletop. If they were from the duke, she would not go weak in the knees or simper like a lovesick fool. She would be wise and cautious. He would have to know that she was a sensible and stable young woman, and unlike these flowers, was not so easily plucked.
    She read the card silently to herself:
Delicate roses for a delicate rose of a woman. Whitby
.
    She read it again and blinked slowly up at her mother. She tried to mask the fracture in her pride, and not to look too disappointed, for they were not even
from
the duke. “They’re from the Earl of Whitby.”
    Sophia flipped the card over and handed it to her mother, who was holding out her arm, wiggling her little fingers with impatience.
    Her mother read it. With a squeal, she handed it to Florence. “Look what it says!”
    The countess took her turn reading it, then stood up to hug Sophia. “Red roses. How deliciously aggressive of him. It is a clear message indeed. Congratulations, my dear. You’ve hooked an earl. Though was there ever any doubt you would be a success here?” The two ladies hugged each other.
    Sophia tried to force a smile. She didn’t want to dash their hopes just yet—for she had no intentions of marrying the Earl of Whitby, nor did she want them to know what was really going on inside her heart: that she was obsessing over a man she was still very uncertain about.
    She felt it best to keep her cards close to her chest for now, until she could better evaluate the situation with the duke. She would know when the time was right to speak of it. Perhaps, if he did come today for the walk in the park as he said he would, Sophia herself could come to understand it enough to describe it.
    “Well, what do you think of him?” Florence asked. “He’s one of the best catches. He’s already inherited his title, and he is handsome.”
    Sophia nodded dutifully. “Of course he’s handsome, Florence. No one could argue that.”
    Whitby had fair hair and a strong jaw; he was slender and had beautiful white teeth, and not a hint of the duke’s darker, more sardonic qualities. Perhaps she was wrong to discount the earl so quickly.
    Just then, the butler appeared in the doorway. “Lady Lansdowne. There is a gentleman here to see Mrs. Wilson.”
    Florence looked at Beatrice uncertainly. “It’s hardly the time for calls.”
    “The gentleman claims it is a matter of particular importance, and he did not wish to wait, my lady.”
    An unsettling silence hovered over them. “Who is it?” the countess asked.
    “It is the Earl of Manderlin, my lady.”
    Another silence ensued while Florence decided what to do. “Show him in. Sophia? You and I will speak to the housekeeper about having Cook prepare those German sour cream twists you like so much.”
    Sophia and Florence left her mother in the parlor, to receive the Earl of Manderlin.
    Not long after, the butler entered the kitchen to summon Sophia to the parlor, and she felt a sudden rush of uncomfortable dread. She followed the butler down the long front hall and into the room where her mother sat across from the earl. He rose when Sophia entered the room.
    He was not a handsome man. He was small and slender, almost fragile in his appearance. Nor was he a warm man. He did not smile.
    “Miss Wilson,” he said, “thank you for seeing me this morning. I