A week had passed since she and Westcliffe had returned from the seaside. Beth had survived her time with the duchess remarkably well. Leo had begun painting a portrait of her. Another suitor, the third son of an earl, had begun calling on Beth, although she still favored Greenwood above all others. She glanced up as Beth flounced down beside her. “You seem so remarkably happy,” Beth said. “Are you glad you came to London?” Claire bit her lower lip, then nodded. “I should have come long ago. I should not have accepted exile so docilely.” “What choice did you have? A woman is supposed to obey her husband.” Reaching over, she squeezed Beth’s hand. “Which is the reason that it is important for you to consider all suitors. You wanted a choice, and you seem to have very quickly settled on one.” “But he’s perfect. Why do you have such a difficult time believing that?” Claire sighed. “Perhaps because I thought if I’d been given a choice, I’d have chosen another, and now I realize that marrying Westcliffe was the correct thing to do.”
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