Donna’s stomach was full and her belly was slightly sore from laughing. Martina Oberlin was a one-woman comedian with her witty comments and overly dramatic reactions all while providing intelligent insight to Blackwell and Woodbridge Hall. She’d never had so much fun over lunch.

Blackwell led her toward the garden as his mother went in the other direction after they said goodbye. Once she was gone from sight, Donna told him, “Your mother is delightful. How did you, the man who rarely laughs, come from such an amusing woman?”

He shook his head. “I had a father who straightened me out. Would you like to walk the grounds and get some exercise after lunch?”

They’d eaten a gourmet meal of mushrooms, chicken and creamy pasta. “Sounds lovely.” She looped her arm in the crook of his elbow and gazed all around her. The green lawn went as far as the eyes could see with a clear path surrounded by trimmed trees. “Can you point out the dowager house your mother lives in?”

He motioned with his shoulder that it was in the other direction. “If that’s how you want to come back, we can. I wanted to show you the pond, which is probably my favorite spot besides the stables.”

She had no idea how nobility worked, not really. All she knew was in the historical books she’d read but none of that was very modern and she doubted there was a book that would tell her what marrying Blackwell might entail. She stayed beside him on the smooth dirt trail and focused on what he’d just said. Right, stables. He wanted to show her his horses. She patted her backside. “I can’t wait for my first lesson.”

His brow lifted. “Really?”

“Maybe.” She imagined him mounted on a huge brown horse with muscular thighs as he showed her how to ride. He was already larger than life, and on a horse, he’d be that cowboy.

They made it to the section where the trail split, and he motioned for them to go right. “This way. We’ll take the front path.”

Flowers surrounded every tree in a circle and the emerald lawn was cut perfectly even. “The gardens are beautiful. Miami is so hot that the only time you can go for a walk is in the evening, but where I live, I pass condo complexes, not trees.”

He shrugged and kept his gaze straight ahead. “On our farm, we grew fields of wheat so I miss the smell of freshly turned soil. Here everything is designed for visual stimulation instead of food harvesting.”

The large gardens had definitely been designed but the results were relaxing and peaceful. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself on a farm. In the city, there are always people around, even when you don’t want them.”

He slowed his pace. “It is just a short drive from here to any shopping or entertainment you might need.”

Blackwell wanted to show her that she’d fit into his world. She patted his shoulder. “The village I stayed in that first night was very close to town. I’m not worried about being lonely here.”

“Good.”

They made it to the pond, which was much larger than she’d anticipated. It even had a small boathouse and a pier. Blackwell stopped near the path. “Let me talk to the boat master to get us a row boat. Give me two minutes.”

She looked around and saw a black metal bench situated beneath a shady tree where someone might read for hours without being disturbed. She smiled. “I’ll wait on this bench.”

“I’ll be right back.” He strode toward the boat house. She took a seat, closed her eyes and visualized sitting here with a book in her hand while she smelled a pink peony.

If she married Blackwell, she could read here every day.

A twig broke on the path and Donna opened her eyes. It was too soon for Blackwell to return. A young blonde with an elaborate updo, in a pale peach swing skirt with matching shirt and cardigan, complete with a string of pearls, walked closer.

Donna tugged on her t-shirt and tucked it in behind her as the woman approached. “Hello?”

“Oh, hello. Are you a guest of Oberlin’s?” The woman stopped in front of her and her bright confident smile told Donna that she’d been born into this world.

She held out her hand, nails classic with a French manicure, and offered to shake. Donna did and said, “I am. I’m Donna Smith.”

The handshake ended but the sheer brilliance of the woman surrounded them. “Lovely to meet you, Donna. I’m Chelsea Bright, possibly the next Duchess of Oakley.”

Donna’s heart nearly stopped. Blackwell had clearly chosen a woman far more suitable than Donna. Chelsea would know how his life was supposed to work here and could be a reliable partner. Donna could hardly breathe. “Possibly?”

Chelsea’s cheeks had a slight blush. “Yes, Oberlin has asked for my hand.”

There was no way Donna would ever be so gracious and Blackwell had a better option in the classy blonde. It would be better for both of them if she just disappeared and left. Right now. Her stomach twisted and her heart felt cold. Why had he lied? She swallowed and wondered if he’d gone around asking every woman he met to marry him before he turned thirty. How many potential brides were there? Her heart sped up at the thought and she held her hand to her throat. “He did?”

Chelsea’s eyes widened and she stepped backwards onto the path. “One of the maids said he was taking a walk toward the pond and I was hoping to catch up with him. I won’t take up any more of your time, Miss Smith. I hope you enjoy your stay here. I’ll send you an invitation to join our women’s group if your stay will be longer than a few days.”

“Thanks.” Donna had no intention of sticking around.

Every cell in her body flared with heat and her pulse was so fast she couldn’t think. Harry had left her for another woman that was more attractive and knew how to wear makeup. Blackwell claimed to want to marry her, but he’d already asked another woman. He’d leave her too. Everyone else left her.

Cold seeped up her spine.

Blackwell left the boathouse and walked toward her, stopping in front of her. She couldn’t greet him; her voice had deserted her. An older man put a rowboat into the pond from the pier. “Are you ready, Donna?”

The last place she wanted to be was on that small boat with him. Not now. She took a step backwards and lifted her chin. “How many women have you proposed to, Blackwell?”

“What?” His gaze narrowed.

She crossed her arms. Harry had denied at first that he’d cheated on her with the woman who became his girlfriend after Donna left. Blackwell’s defensive tone reminded her of that moment. She swallowed back the fire that grew around her heart, threatening to burn right through her. “The question was clear. How many possible brides do you have?”

He stepped forward, his expression guarded. “I only want you, Donna.”

Until the prettier, better, duchess came along. She knew better than to believe in this impossible dream he tried to weave in front of her. She stepped backwards. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

His hands went into his jean pockets. “Why not? I told you that I must marry soon. I thought I saw a woman walk past on the path—who was it? Of course, I have a backup plan—how was I to know that I’d meet you?”

He had told her about the law. But he hadn’t mentioned that the woman was perfect in every way and should honestly be the first choice. The fire was leaving her body, turning her heart to ash. “Your backup plan is young, blonde, blue-eyed, thin and beautiful. I’ve already been left for a more beautiful woman and I can’t deal with that again.”

He straightened as if she’d hit him. “Donna, I’m not Harry. Don’t put his mistakes on me.”

No, Blackwell was far worse. With Harry, she hadn’t felt loss or that she might never recover. Donna wanted to run away and not look back. “I’m not, Blackwell. I just met your future bride.”

His brow scrunched with confusion. “It was Chelsea, the Earl of Paston’s younger daughter then. I’ve never even met her in person.”

She let out a snort. This was too much. He needed to simply walk further on the path and find perfection. He didn’t need to waste his time here. “She’s touring your property. Go find her then. Look, I’m going to wish you every happiness in the world. She’s clearly more qualified to be a duchess than I would ever be.”

He tilted his head and stared at her like she’d transformed into Medusa with snakes for hair. “You’ve not even going to give us a chance, are you? I can’t make you believe that you’re who I want.”

No. His words were impossible and tears burned as if she was going to cry. “Why me? I don’t understand you.”

He lifted his brow, took his hand from his pocket and reached for hers. “Because I fell in love you that moment in the bar where you swallowed the beer just to prove you could. Love is in my heart, but it is clear you don’t feel the same.”

Her ears buzzed and she shook her head. He loved her? Her parents had loved her but they’d deserted her. Love couldn’t be trusted. Harry had claimed to love her but he’d cheated. “You can’t mean that.”

His body stiffened and he stood straighter. “I realize now it’s one-sided and I won’t bother you again, Donna.”

Oh goodness. He didn’t understand at all. How could he?

He turned and walked down the path, away from her.

She sank back onto the bench and her tears fell. She wiped her face but more tears took their place. She closed her eyes as water dripped from her cheeks onto her lap. “What have I done?”

Years ago, Donna had gone to a therapist, knowing she used the loss of her parents to avoid living life to its fullest. Then Harry called off the wedding after admitting he cheated on her and she’d lost her job. She’d come here to figure out what she wanted with her life, not fall in love. Love hurt when she lost it and she’d lost over and over again. And yet here she was, stopping herself from feeling and hoping to block out what might be the best thing in her life. She’d ruined everything.