Page 19 of Loved by a Dangerous Duke

Pennington arched a brow and skewed his mouth into a sideways smile. “That’s most generous of you.”

“Generosity has nothing to do with it. I want Ophelia to know that nothing compelled me to marry. Circumstances might force her to marry me, but the reverse is not true.”

Pennington made an indecipherable sound and scribbled a few lines on the document. He turned it to face Stan. “Will that suffice?”

Stan scanned the modification and nodded. “Yes. I also want her to know that the money is hers. I believe it will help her feel empowered in a situation that surely must make her feel powerless.”

Leaning back into his leather chair, Pennington rubbed his chin. “Given your reputation for ruthlessness, I admit, I’m surprised at your consideration for Ophelia’s feelings.”

“She will be my wife. I shall always consider her feelings above all else.”

A slow grin pulled Pennington’s lips upward, and a devilish glint entered his eyes. “As it should be.” He stood and gestured toward the closed door. “Shall we go find your bride and mine?”

My bride.

“By all means. I have a ring I wish to present to her.” Stan patted his coat pocket. That was another thing he’d done these past two days. Shopped for the perfect ring. The duchy had few genuine jewels left. Most were paste imitations. Ophelia deserved a ring as unique and beautiful as she was.

“I shall arrange for you to have a few minutes alone,” Pennington offered as they stepped into the hallway. “The other guests aren’t due to arrive for half an hour. You may speak with Ophelia in the drawing room until a quarter of three.”

Stan kept stride with Pennington as he led the way to the drawing room. They entered, and the Duchess of Pennington and Ophelia glanced up.

Today, they looked identical, except the duchess wore a rosy pink, and Ophelia wore periwinkle trimmed in violet. And while the duchess’s expression was neutral but pleasant, Ophelia’s was unreadable. As if she’d donned a mask, much like the one she’d worn the other night at the ball.

“My dear,” Pennington said. “I’ve promised Asherford he might have a few moments alone with his betrothed before the other guests arrive.”

Ophelia’s gaze flew to meet Stan’s before she swiftly dropped her attention to her tightly clasped hands.

A most reluctant bride.

His gut wrenched. Could he go through with the marriage when Ophelia so obviously didn’t want to? The Dangerous Duke wouldn’t have hesitated. But Stan didn’t want to be that man anymore.

Ophelia had changed him.

No. She’d made him want to change.