Say Yes to the Duke by Kieran Kramer Page A

of your life with a man you don’t love.”
    “Even if he’s rich?”
    “Yes, Isobel, even so.” Janice patted Izzy’s arm. “I know you mean well. But trust
     me that money doesn’t solve all one’s woes.”
    “It doesn’t?”
    “No. It doesn’t,” she said softly. “It seems to me that only love makes things truly
     better.”
    “I hope so,” Isobel said with a short chuckle, “as I’m never going to be rich.”
    “Neither one of us knows what our futures hold. Besides”—Janice sighed—“I can’t say
     no to people. I think it comes from living in a large family. One has to compromise.”
    “You are agreeable, my lady,” said Isobel. “Perhaps too nice.…”
    “Isobel. One can never be too nice.”
    “I don’t know, miss. I remember the circus trainers cracking their whips at the tigers.
     If they didn’t frighten them a little bit, they’d get eaten up.”
    “I don’t propose to crack any whips,” said Janice, “nor shall I be devoured. I promise.”
    They shared bemused smiles.
    “Well, I’m off.” She looked one more time at her reflection and didn’t see an ounce
     of the lurking ambition that the dowager—as the Queen—seemed to think she had. “Wish
     me luck downstairs.”
    “You don’t need it.” Isobel winked. “You know the secret. ”
    “Right,” said Janice dryly. “I suppose I do.”
    Say no.
    Say no, and if the dowager was right the world would be Janice’s, whether she magically
     blossomed out here in the country—per her mother’s wishes—or not.

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    On her way to the drawing room, Janice got lost. She thought she was going down the
     corridor that led to the staircase, but instead she found herself in a vast hall—the
     portrait gallery. One stunning portrait in particular caught her eye. It was of a
     beautiful lady with a spark of something—a glow—in her eye.
    She’s in love, Janice thought. That’s what love looks like. She’d seen the same look on Marcia’s face and on Mama’s.
    And then Janice wondered if the woman in the portrait was the dowager when she was
     young. The clothes would have been from about that time.
    Janice had turned back, determined to find her way to the stairs—it was a simple enough
     correction she had to make—when she found the most wonderful sitting room with an
     enormous window, in front of which were three wingback chairs. She skirted around
     them and stood before the panes, where a blanket of cold air made her shiver as she
     looked out to a snow-covered garden.
    She was so glad Esmeralda was no longer trembling out there in the cold but was instead
     snug in her straw bed with her puppies.
    Thanks to Mr. Callahan, Janice couldn’t help thinking, and wondered what he was doing at the moment. Talking
     to Oscar? Looking in on Esmeralda?
    Or … thinking of her?
    No. She really had to rein in her too-vivid imagination. She didn’t even like him.
     How could she like a man who’d warned her away from him himself? And he didn’t like
     her. He’d made that obvious. He’d not helped Esmeralda for Janice but for the dog’s
     sake alone. Had it really been necessary to tell her that?
    No. Which proved that he didn’t give a fig for her. He simply liked to kiss her. As she did him.
    She decided the dramatic yet pristine view deserved her attention more than Mr. Callahan
     did, so she’d linger over it another minute. She sank into the middle chair, curled
     up her feet, put her chin in her palm, and gazed upon the portion of sky where the
     setting sun lent an orange glow to the tops of the tree line. For a few seconds she
     closed her eyes and let herself drift …
    Right back into Luke Callahan’s arms.
    “I left them in here, I’m sure.”
    Her eyes flew open at the sound, and she felt a moment’s embarrassment, as if she’d
     been caught out doing something entirely wrong. But of course, no one could see inside
     her head. Nor could anyone see her, not unless they came