The Duke of Ravenwood stood in the blue parlor in the rear of his estate awaiting the arrival of his bride for the second time this year.

On the previous occasion, he had been about to marry his dead friend’s paramour…until the very-much-alive brigadier returned against all odds to stop the wedding.

Ideally, Miss Ross would have no such skeletons in her past.

Edmund and his wife were seated in the front row to show their support. They were even more in love now than they’d been when Edmund had first gone off to war. When all of them had gone off to war. Every single one of the childhood friends that Ravenwood cared about most.

Everyone but him.

He’d felt like a failure at the time. As if he were hiding behind his title rather than putting his loyalty to the Crown first.

But managing a dukedom was no small responsibility, and Ravenwood had no heirs. If he were felled by an enemy rifle, the title would pass to none other than his Uncle Blaylock.

Ravenwood would die before he let that happen. And he’d take Uncle Blaylock down with him.

An emotional reaction to the rules of primogeniture? Absolutely. One of the few Ravenwood had ever allowed himself.

He was furious at his sister for having manipulated him into attending that ill-fated charity gala, but of course he had still invited her to the wedding. She was his sister. The only person who ever came close to knowing the true him.

As much as Ravenwood disliked time spent with most people, these past long months had been lonely without his sister.

The elder by a few years, Amelia had managed the daily minutia of Ravenwood House from the moment their parents had died. Aunt Blaylock might have thought she was pulling the strings, but even an adolescent Amelia had been a force of nature.

It was likely because of the Blaylocks’ presence in their lives that Amelia had learned to pay close attention to every detail, to rule with cunning rather than commands.

The best thing about having a sister like Amelia was that she managed to handle everything Ravenwood hated in such a way that he didn’t even need to know about it, much less deal with it. He was not required to mediate drama amongst the staff or attend public events where he would be forced into awkward conversations with people he didn’t even know.

Amelia was always so good at her job that it had been easy to forget it wasn’t her job. Until the day she’d met her husband and left Ravenwood House behind.

It had felt empty ever since.

He broke his fast alone. Lunched alone. Took tea alone. Dined alone. Sipped his port alone. And then began his day all over again.

All that, however, was about to change.

Probably.

He would not impose mealtime regulations upon a duchess. If Miss Ross wished to take her meals in the privacy of her bedchamber, he would not deny her.

No matter what he might have wished his marriage to be like.

Movement in the corridor caught his eye. He held his breath. His bride had arrived at last.

She was beautiful.

Her eyes were clear and bright. She wore a long, intricately beaded gown of pale blue silk. He had no idea if it had been commissioned for this purpose or if it was a gown she’d worn to hundreds of less-than-respectable soirées.

It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. From this moment on, she was his duchess. He would treat her with the respect she deserved. She was attractive and interesting. They would get to know each other eventually. It would be fine. He would make their marriage succeed.

His bride’s long blond hair was twisted into some sort of complicated French style, with a plethora of pearl combs holding up all but a few artful ringlets.

That was new. Her hair had been arranged much more casually the night of Amelia’s dinner party, and even during the night of the charity gala. Which meant, regardless of its provenance, she was viewing their union with at least some degree of interest. Perhaps she, too, wondered what might have happened if her aunt had not interrupted them in the storage room.

Arm in arm, Mrs. Havens walked her niece all the way to the clergyman, her strut pleased as a peacock.

“Kate is going to be a duchess,” she whispered to Ravenwood when they reached the altar.

“So I heard,” he replied, careful not to betray his startlement at the proclamation. “I may even be the duke in question.”

“I hope so. You’re a handsome one.” Mrs. Havens gave him a coquettish wink.

Ravenwood bowed.

Miss Ross led her aunt to the row of chairs and settled her in the closest seat. When she resumed her place at the altar, she tossed Ravenwood a merry grin. “At least she has good taste. You are a handsome one.”

The back of Ravenwood’s neck heated, but he couldn’t look away. Not when she continued to surprise him at every turn.

She didn’t want to marry him. Neither of them wished to be in the position in which they now found themselves. They were all wrong for each other.

And yet…she looked as relaxed and comfortable as she had the night of the charity gala, when she’d stepped onstage to announce the items for auction.

Ravenwood couldn’t think of anything worse than taking the stage before hundreds of people. Except perhaps being forced to marry one of them against one’s will. So why was she so relaxed about the ceremony taking place? Had the allure of a dukedom trumped her disdain for the duke himself?

“You look happy,” he growled, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice.

If anything, the unspoken accusation made her smile even brighter.

“Of course I’m not happy,” she murmured, giving him a pointed gaze. “Neither are you. Yet there’s nothing to be done but make the best of the situation. The fact that it’s not a love match also appears to have slipped Aunt Havens’ mind, so if you could bear a few smiles of your own…”

He jerked his gaze toward Mrs. Havens, who waved at him with such spontaneous delight that he could not help but smile back.

“Perfect,” his bride whispered. “Thank you for playing along.”

He froze. He’d actually smiled and meant it. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten his list of extremely valid concerns, and simply let himself be happy.

And it had worked.

The tightness in his chest began to lighten. Perhaps there was hope for this union after all. If they both tried to be happy with the other, if they both playacted convincingly enough, it might actually come true.

Hope entered his heart. What if they could coexist without clashing, starting this very night? He’d show her that doing one’s duty needn’t be a joyless affair. With a little luck, their marriage might succeed on a deeper level.

Perhaps someday they’d even have the large, happy family he’d always dreamed of.