Which was not the sort of speech one generally wished to relive in one’s head.

There was an awkward, empty moment, and then Grace cleared her throat and said, “He said he would be here this evening.”

“He did?” Amelia asked, her eyes flying to Grace’s.

Grace nodded. “I saw him at supper. Or rather, I saw him as he walked through the room as we were taking supper. He chose not to dine with us. I think he and his grandmother are quarreling,” she added as an aside. “They frequently do.”

Amelia felt the corners of her mouth tighten. Not in anger. Not even in irritation. It was resignation, really, more than anything else. “I suppose the dowager pestered him about me,” she said.

Grace looked as if she did not wish to answer, but finally she said, “Well, yes.”

Which was to be expected. It was well-known that the dowager Duchess of Wyndham was even more eager to see the marriage take place than Amelia’s own mother. It was also well-known that the duke found his grandmother vexing at best, and Amelia was not at all surprised that he would agree to attend the assembly just to get her to leave him alone.

As it was also well-known that the duke did not make promises lightly, Amelia was quite certain that he would indeed make an appearance at the assembly. Which meant that the remainder of the evening would follow a well-worn path:

The duke would arrive, everyone would look at him, then everyone would look at her, and then he would approach, they would share several minutes of awkward conversation, he would ask her to dance, she would accept, and when they were done, he would kiss her hand and depart.

Presumably to seek the attentions of another woman. A different kind of woman.

The sort one did not marry.

It was not something Amelia cared to ponder, not that that ever stopped her from doing so. But truly, could one expect fidelity from a man before marriage? It was a discussion she and her sister had had any number of times, and the answer was always depressingly the same: