Free What the Groom Wants by Jade Lee

difficult. As did her mother’s incessant screaming. “Mama, everyone’s staring. Let’s just get this done without all the noise.”
    “Noise?” her mother snapped. “I’ll not be run out of my home all silent-like as if I were ashamed. We’re good tenants, you and me. They’ve no cause—”
    “I know,” she said. The unfairness of this had been her mother’s only conversation since they’d been told to leave. “I know, Mama. But if you could just let the men work—”
    “And break my crockery! Well, I never!”
    Wendy started to argue, but then thought better of it. Her mother was expressing her own fears in the only way she knew how: by complaining at the top of her lungs. She wouldn’t stop until everything was resolved.
    She leaned against the wall, her hand shoved deep into her pocket where she toyed with a scrap of paper. It had one sentence on it plus the date: Lady Ottwell sucked Lord Northcott’s cock at the Westfall Ball. It was the only secret she’d gleaned from her time at the vingt-e-un table last night, and she’d scribbled it down this morning. A pitiful secret and one likely known by half the ton after last night. Lord Northcott had been crowing about the lady’s technique to anyone who would hear. But it was what she’d learned, and so she’d scribbled it down as she did all the tidbits she’d gleaned over the years. After they were settled, she’d add this to her other written notes.
    Meanwhile, she stared bleakly at the scene before her. She watched Freddie grab a basket of her clothing. She had precious few dresses, and when the sleeve of one dragged over the side nearly to the ground, she should have leaped forward to save the gown from dirt. She didn’t. Suddenly, she was too tired. So she watched with dull eyes, her mind too weary to think. And, in that moment of exhaustion, a familiar voice startled her.
    “My goodness, Wind! You aren’t one to let the work go begging, are you?”
    Radley. So he hadn’t forgotten his promise to let her stay with his mother. Lord, how her heart just stuttered when she thought of him now. Of his laugh. Of their kiss. But before she could enjoy the rush of feeling from those memories, the other one intruded. The one where he was no longer just a sailor on leave, but a man with a title.
    She closed her eyes, doing her best to hide the pain. They might have shared a kiss. They might have made a go of it. But now, the distance between them was too great. So she straightened off the wall, smoothing her skirt in self-conscious movements. Then she turned to face the new Duke of Bucklynde with poise and dignity.
    Sadly, her mother did not have the same reserve. Wendy had barely turned when suddenly her mother clapped her hands in delight. Then she squealed loud enough for the neighborhood to know that a duke had come to call.
    “Oo-ee! Look at you. Come to see us just like you promised. Little Radley, now a duke! And ’oo is this fine gentleman with you?”
    Wendy had been looking at Radley, at his broad shoulders, tanned face, and bloodshot eyes. He looked weary, and her mother’s squeal had him wincing. She recognized the symptoms. He’d likely gotten drunk last night and was suffering for it this morning. She wanted to think ill of him, but really, who wouldn’t celebrate becoming a duke? It was all the neighborhood could talk about, and many a man had celebrated on his behalf.
    But at her mother’s words, Wendy turned her attention to the man beside Radley. “Mama, this is Lord Crowle. He has just married Lady Irene.”
    “Blimey! Lord Crowle, pleasure to meet you, it is. I’ve ’eard so much about you from my Wendy. Says you’re a right fine gent.”
    “A pleasure madame,” said Lord Crowle as he bowed, his manner neither mocking nor dismissive. It was one of the things Wendy most liked about the man: he treated every person with equal parts charm and respect. That he was bowing so politely now set her mother to