She hiccupped, then dabbed at her running nose with the hem of her gown. “Oh, please, my dearest darlingest beloved! You cannot abandon me and marry the bastard daughter of a duke!” Lord Raoul turned his back to the sight of the damp woman and looked out upon the velvety green lawns at Firthstone. He was saddened he had to give up the bit o’ fun that was Rowena, but after all, she didn’t have nearly the dowry that Pruenella, the natural daughter of the Duke of Colinwood, had, and dammit! one didn’t pay for the cow when one had the milk for free! “Why should I not marry her?” he asked carelessly. Rowena looked at him as if he’d lost his senses. “Er…well…for one thing, she’s a bastard, Raoul. Not legitimate. Her parents weren’t wed. You do understand that concept, don’t you?” “So, what do you think? Is it too harsh? Do you think Lady Rowena would speak in such an insolent manner to her beloved Lord Raoul? Is he too unsympathetic?” Kamil the grocer had that look peculiar to deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck, but he gamely rallied a smile and smoothed a hand over the stack of evening tabloids next to the cash register.
