Evie sat in her bedchamber at Tyndall Abbey in Derbyshire, dressed and waiting to go to the village church where in just under an hour, she would become the new Duchess of Bradbury.

Provided, of course, that the world didn't end before then. But she didn't think she was that lucky.

For years, she'd always believed that all she wanted was to just get married. To someone. Anyone. Well, anyone but the late Lord Milner, but at the time she was betrothed to him, she'd just turned eighteen and thought she had all the time in the world to land a better catch.

No one in the ton would ever argue that there was any better a catch than the Duke of Bradbury. She should have been ecstatic.

Instead, she felt as if she were awaiting execution. She'd never felt this condemned even when she was betrothed to Milner. She'd never abandoned hope that she would somehow get out of that particular match—and she did. She just never dreamed her mother would be the one to facilitate it by eloping with the old codger. She almost wished now that her mother had repeated the scandal with Bradbury.

Evie knew the man she wanted to marry, but she'd likely never see Gareth again. She'd neither seen nor heard from him in a fortnight—not since he all but accused her of treason and left her standing in the stable yard at AshdownPark. Bradbury assured her that marriage to him would not only protect her from his brother's accusations, but even send him out of England altogether. Now that the war with France was over, Gareth was certain to leave and seek his fortune in one of England's many far-flung colonies, as suited a younger son, or brother as the case might be.

Gareth had exhorted her to quit England herself, while she had the chance. Now that chance was gone.

She and the duke had remained at AshdownPark until Ross and Tabitha arrived on their way back from Brighton. After receiving her brother's blessing on the marriage, Bradbury left to obtain a special license and tend to other personal affairs elsewhere, while Evie continued with Ross and Tabitha to Tyndall Abbey, where their mother and new stepfather were waiting.

Someone tapped at the door, and she stood up. "Come in, Ross."

The door swung open to reveal not her brother, but her mother, the new Marchioness of Frampton. Evie sat back down again.

"I told him to wait a few moments so I could have a few last minute words with you," her mother said, closing the door behind her. "Are there any questions you'd like to ask?"

"Yes. Why didn't you just invite Lord Frampton to Tyndall Abbey and let nature take its course? Why all the subterfuge with Bradbury?"

"Those aren't the questions I expected you to ask."

"You didn't state any specifications as to topic."

"If you must know, I did want to invite the marquess here. Indeed, I had the letter written and ready to post the next morning when Tabitha showed up, and we thought she was a princess who'd lost her memory after being coshed over the head by who we thought was a highwayman, but instead was Lady Flora. That provided enough distraction that I almost forgot about my invitation to Frampton until Bradbury, who is Frampton's nephew, showed up here. Bradbury is the one who proposed that we pretend to be betrothed, but let me assure you, Evie, that he never, ever felt any real affection for me, and utterly nothing happened between us."

"So he told me. I suppose I should be relieved to hear that. But why the sham betrothal? Why didn't you post your letter to the marquess?"

"Bradbury thought the sham betrothal would motivate Frampton to finally come up to scratch. I've never told you this, but I never really intended to marry Milner. We only pretended to elope in hopes that Frampton would follow us to Gretna and put a stop to it before it was too late, but he never did, so—"

"Bradbury told me all of that," Evie said flatly. "Frampton would have come after you if I hadn't stopped him, because I believed—and I still do—that you were doing me a favor by eloping with Milner so I wouldn't have to marry him. I suppose I owe you an apology for thwarting your plans."

"Not at all, Evie. I can't blame you for doing what you did. Better that than running away to London as I did to avoid a similar match. I did beg Frampton's forgiveness in the letter I wrote to him. And he did grant it, or he wouldn't have married me. But that isn't the only reason Bradbury wanted to pretend he was betrothed to someone totally unsuitable to be his duchess. He was also hoping to draw out the bride his father arranged for him many years ago."

"Who?"

Her mother smiled. "Apparently, that bride was—is—you, my sweetling."

Evie shook her head. "I still don't believe it."

"Why not? Though I scarcely believe it myself. After all the censure we've endured over the years, my own daughter is about to become a duchess!"

"Surely it's someone else."

"No one else has come forward all these years. It must be you, Evie. I don't understand why you persist in behaving as if you don't wish to marry him—unless it's your fear of the marriage bed."

Oh, dear God...

"That's why I'm here now," her mother went on. "To answer your questions about that and allay any fears you—"

"I thought we already discussed that after I arrived here. My questions were answered and any fears allayed the night Lady Flora took me to Madame Delphine's instead of Lady Whitbourne's. That's where I met the duke's brother and was mistaken for you."

"No thanks to my own brother." Her mother sighed. "If only you'd said something after you came home that night..."

"I was afraid you'd insist on forcing Lord Gareth to marry me. And there might have been questions about how he and I met."

"But I thought you were keen to marry before I landed another husband!" her mother exclaimed, as if that had always been a foregone conclusion.

Evie gazed up at her mother through a misty haze of tears. "I always thought that was the case, but I realize now that I'm not so desperate that I would ever try to trap a prospect at a Cyprian ball, or let myself be blackmailed into it by another prospect who was there. I know now that I want to marry for love, as Ross and Tabitha did. And Lord Gareth Armstrong is the one I love. I think I must have been in love with him ever since that night. Instead I'm about to marry his brother. That he's a duke doesn't make any difference."

"Oh, my dearest." Her mother sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, and took Evie's hand into her own. "I am so sorry for that. But it seems you've been promised to Bradbury all this time, and even if you weren't, where is Lord Gareth now? He's not even here to stand up with his brother. If there was any chance he returned your feelings, I should think he would have acted on them ere this."

Evie thought he had, on the day she last saw him.

"You must put Lord Gareth out of your mind," her mother said firmly. "Now, I'm afraid we don't have much time left. I'll try and be brief. Dare I ask how much you already know?"

Evie stared at her mother. "About what?"

"The marriage bed. When you were at Madame Delphine's that night, did Lord Gareth perchance—"

"No!" Evie sprang to her feet and rushed over to the door, throwing it open. "Ross! Where are you? Take me to the church before I change my mind and cry off and take up Lady Cranston's offer to be her paid companion."

"I'm right here waiting," said Ross from the end of the long, gloomy hallway.

Her mother brushed past her into the hallway. "Let me go first. You and Ross must be the last to arrive at the church."

"My wife and Frampton are already waiting for you out in his carriage," Ross told her.

They went downstairs and out the front door, where the marchioness joined her new husband and new daughter-in-law in his carriage. Evie and Ross waited till the Frampton carriage disappeared out the front gate of Tyndall Abbey before they boarded the smaller Tyndall carriage. They rolled out of the gate just as another carriage approached and turned in to the abbey's front drive.

"Must be some guests late for the wedding," Ross remarked. "Well, at least they're early for the breakfast. You must be relieved that Bradbury was meant for you all this time, and not our mother. Indeed, I wonder if our mother didn't feign her own attachment to him just to build a fire under him to come up to scratch with you, Evie."

If her brother only knew. "I wonder if he would've dared to do such a thing had you not been away to Brighton with Tabitha," she countered. "Moreover, he wasn't the one who told me that tale. His brother did. Lord Gareth Armstrong. I was hoping to marry him, instead."

"What?" Ross gaped at her, stupefied. "Now why would you want to marry Lord Gareth and not the duke?"

Tears smarted her eyes. "Because I'm in love with him. And I thought—mistakenly now, as it turns out—that he loved me."

"When did all of this happen?"

"While you and Tabitha were in Brighton."

"Does Bradbury know of your feelings for his brother?"

"Yes, and he remains utterly unconcerned about it, because his brother will go abroad as all younger brothers must do." Evie barely kept the bitterness out of her voice. "The duke and I are both acutely aware that ours is not a love match. It's what our fathers wanted."

"I wish I could see the contract they must have drawn up," said Ross. "The solicitor said nothing about one when I returned to England to claim the earldom."

"Even Bradbury doesn't have it," Evie said. "Yet he believes I'm his intended bride."

"In that case, maybe he does feel something for you. Tabitha and I would like nothing better than to see you marry for love, just as we did. Just as our mother has, finally. You should forget about his brother and give him a chance."

"It seems I have no choice about that," she said glumly, as the carriage rolled to a halt in front of the church amid raucous cheers from the villagers clustered around the lych-gate in hopes of catching a glimpse of the bride.

Ross helped her out of the carriage, and together they strolled into the church and down the center aisle to the altar, as a flutist in the far corner played an air by Mozart. Evie glanced all around for some sign of Gareth, but he was nowhere in sight. The duke stood alone at the altar, his back to the nave, as if he couldn't be bothered to look at his bride and was more than ready to get the whole thing over with.

Evie was more than ready to end it, here and now. But then what? Who else would marry her?

She never thought she'd live to see the day when she would prefer to remain a spinster for all time. Today was that day. And why? Because just when she'd reached the point where she would have happily married anyone, even sight unseen, she had to fall so madly in love with Lord Gareth Armstrong that she didn't want to marry anyone but him.

Of all the rotten luck!

The vicar, Mr. Phipps, commenced reading the marriage service from the Book of Common Prayer. Not once did the duke glance her way, but then she didn't glance his way, either. They both stared straight ahead.

This was not how Evie had always dreamed it would be.

"Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace," said Mr. Phipps.

Silence fell over the nave. Somewhere in the back, someone coughed. Mr. Phipps cleared his throat and continued.

"I require and charge you—"

"Objection!"