Walking to the study was like going from the sickroom to a funeral. That would be what it would seem to her father, who viewed her pending marriage almost as though it were a live thing. And she had not just witnessed the death of it, she had been instrumental in bringing it about. She had murdered her one chance at a title and a life of ease. No one would want a girl who jilted the most eligible bachelor in London. How picky must she be, if even a saint was not good enough for her?
Yet she felt almost happy to be free of it. She had parted from him as a friend. She would not have to lie to the Duke about her feelings, since she understood them already. She would not have to stifle herself and confirmed to his ideals for a perfect wife. She could go on as living as she had been, lonely b
