ROMANCE: MAIL ORDER BRIDE: The Other Man’s Baby (A Clean Christian Historical Western) (New Adult Inspirational Pregnancy Romance) by Joyce Wright Read Free Book Online

open like a fish. Calling a Duke by his given name? She was almost certain that never happened. “Of course. Oscar, I must ask - why me? Of all the women in the country, why me?”
    He laughed lightly, thin smile lines appearing along his cheeks. “Why not?”
    She simply looked at him, brow raised.
    “Ah, you wish for a serious answer? I suppose I can give you one.” He leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on his knee. “It has a lot to do with your heritage. You come from a fine family - I am sure your parents have already given you the ‘families combined’ lecture.”
    Edith had, and she did not wish to hear it again. “Yes, they have. Is that all?”
    He said nothing for a long moment, considering his words carefully. Then, “no, not all. My uncle knows a relative of yours - a cousin, perhaps an aunt, I am not sure. They spoke highly of you, in any case. I think that is reason enough to wish to meet you, if nothing else.”
    That explained why he knew about her, but still not why he chose her. Clara supposed it didn’t really matter, as she had no interest in marrying him regardless. Still, her heart fluttered at the thought of being picked out among a hundred other women - some of whom were surely a better fit than Clara herself.
    “Miss Clara? Are you quite all right?”
    With a jerk, Clara glanced up at the Duke - no, Oscar. That was going to be difficult to remember. “Yes, I am fine. Just... thinking. Please forgive my rudeness.”
    They sat in silence for a moment - thick, awkward silence that settled heavily over Clara like a cloud about to rain. It had always been difficult for her to keep up a conversation - even more so with strangers. She shifted uncomfortably, raking her mind for something to say.
    “Clara, have you seen - oh goodness, I am so sorry ! It slipped my mind you had a visitor today.” Clara’s sister Jessie stood in the doorway, her face as red as a ripe tomato. “Please excuse me, Duke.” She moved back to slip out of the room, but then her eyes seemed to land on something by the mantelpiece.
    “Is there something you want, Jessie?” Honestly, she was glad for the interruption - but she knew things would be ten times more awkward once Jessie left.
    “Oh, just my book. It is just on that table - but I can retrieve it later, it is no trouble.” With an apologetic nod and swish of her hair, Jessie was gone.
    “I must apologise for my sister, Oscar. She is a kind girl, but does not know her etiquette.”
    Oscar’s gaze lingered on the closed door, and he smiled gently as he faced Clara again. “No trouble, I assure you. She seems like a lovely young woman - I can see the family resemblance.”
    It was not entirely true. They shared the same fiery red hair - given to them by their mother - but that was where the similarities ended. It seemed such unusual hair was enough for people to assume relations.
    “What were we discussing before our interruption?”
    Nothing, technically - but Clara said nothing of that in fear of sounding rude. “Us, I suppose.”
    “Of course.” He smiled again, showing perfectly straight teeth. Tiny dimples curved at the corner of his lips. “I was thinking, miss Clara, that we might meet for a picnic sometime this week? The weather has been so lovely lately.”
    She nodded, though it lacked enthusiasm. “Yes, I think I would enjoy that. Where do you suggest?”
    “The gardens of my manor, if that suits.”
    “Yes, thank you.” Idly, Clara wondered what his manor looked like. Her own home was considered impressive by others - his must be a dream, even to her. A Duke of his standing must have the biggest manor in the city.
    “It will give us the chance to get to know each other without any interruptions.” Once again his eyes drifted to the door, lingering for just a moment.
    Something clicked inside Clara’s mind. A gear slipping into place. Oscar had taken an interest in her youngest sister. The way he looked at the door, as if