This Duke is Mine by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online

Whitefriars with a jeweled snuffbox in his hand and a diamond set in his cravat. Suicide.
    The duke thumped his walking stick on the flagstones before the fireplace, rather as if he were trying to even out the stone. “The truth of it is that I’m concerned about the possibility that Rupert won’t go through with the marriage if I force him to the altar.”
    Olivia nodded again.
    The duke looked at her fleetingly and then gave the flagstone at his foot another good prod. “I could deliver him to a church, obviously, but I would be unsurprised if he said no at the crucial moment, even if I filled St. Paul’s with witnesses. He’d cheerfully explain exactly why he didn’t want to say his vows, and he would certainly be happy to tell everyone that he planned to marry you after he achieved—” His voice broke off.
    “Military glory,” Olivia finished his sentence for him. She was feeling very sorry indeed for the duke. No one deserved to be humiliated like this.
    “Precisely.” Another thump sounded, along with the distinct sound of splintering wood.
    “I have no doubt but that the marquess will return from Portugal satisfied with his prowess,” Olivia said. It was true, too. As long as someone was at Rupert’s shoulder who could describe marching down a country road as valiant subjugation of an (invisible) enemy, Rupert would come home happy.
    “I’m sure you’re right.” The duke leaned his splintered walking stick against the fireplace and sat down opposite Olivia. “What I have to ask you is something that no gentleman should ever address with a young lady.”
    “Something to do with common law?” Olivia inquired.
    His brow creased. “Common law? What does that have to do with anything?”
    “The old law and the new law? My parents said something about older and newer rules pertaining to betrothals . . .”
    “English law is English law, and to the best of my ability, common law has no bearing on a betrothal.” The duke gave her a clear, penetrating look. “Women shouldn’t be meddling with matters of the law. Though you must develop some familiarity, because God knows you won’t be able to let Rupert make decisions on his own. But I’ll teach you all that. As soon as you’re married, you’ll come to the estate and I’ll start training you.”
    Olivia considered it a great triumph that her smile didn’t slip, even though her heart was racing and a panicked voice in her head screamed: Training? More training?
    His Grace didn’t notice her silence. “I’m going to have to teach you how to be a duke, since Rupert isn’t up to the task. But you’re smart enough for it. I saw that when you were fifteen.”
    Olivia swallowed and nodded. “I understand.” Her voice sounded rather faint, but the duke wasn’t listening anyway.
    “You may not know this, but our title is derived from an ancient Scottish dukedom,” he said. He still didn’t meet her eyes. He reached over and picked up his cracked walking stick and held it in his lap, examining it as if he thought it might be worth repairing.
    “I am aware of that fact,” Olivia said. The duke obviously had no idea of the extent of her knowledge of the Canterwick holdings and history. She could have told him the name of his second cousin thrice removed’s firstborn child. And the name of that cousin’s seventh-born child, the one notorious for having been born in the common room at the Stag’s Head Inn after his mother had drunk too much ale.
    “Due to our ancestral roots in Scotland, a case can be made that Scottish inheritance rules apply.”
    “Ah.”
    The duke pressed down deliberately on his knee, and the walking stick broke in two. He did not raise his eyes. “If you were to conceive a child now, before my son goes to Portugal, that child would be legitimate under Scottish law. I want to be quite clear about this, however: you would not become a marchioness until my son returned and wed you. There are those who might say unkind