My Untouchable Duke (The Wicked Dukes Society #2)

Chapter 1

One

“There is no need to be nervous,” Lady Arabella Harcourt said.

“I am not nervous,” the Honorable Margot Harcourt responded sharply. She had not meant to speak in such a way to her cousin, yet despite her claims, she was indeed feeling nervous. However, that feels like an understatement of the highest order.

“Nor is there a need to be so defensive,” Arabella continued, not letting her cousin’s sharp tone get to her. “Likely, nobody is even going to notice you. All this worry is for nothing.”

“Are you sure about that?” Margot scoffed.

“If anything, I am the one who should be ripe with nerves…” Indeed, Arabella fidgeted as she spoke, her eyes glancing every which way.

They rode in a carriage together, and were it not for the fact that it moved at a steady pace, Margot wondered if her cousin might leap from it and run while never looking back. “Perhaps this was a mistake.”

“You are the one who convinced me to come!” Margot cried.

“Only because Elizabeth convinced me first,” Arabella shot back, her fidgeting increasing so that she could not sit still. “Would it be so awful if we turned about and went home?”

“We are not going home.” Sitting beside Arabella was her older sister, Lady Elizabeth Harcourt, and she looked at the two women with the firm command that was needed for a moment like this one. “You both need this – despite how much the two of you complain. Why I bother…”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Margot said. “That was Arabella. Truly, I am excited for this evening…” She affected a smile, but it was forced, and the way her stomach twisted with dread made the smile hard to keep.

“Oh, you are not,” Arabella said.

“I am.”

“Am not!”

“Will the two of you stop!” Elizabeth cried over them.

“You are both being ridiculous – and you know it.” She raised an eyebrow at each, warning them off their bickering.

“For too long, you have both hidden away as if doing so might solve all your problems, when all it has done is exacerbate them. It is easier to gossip about a person when they are not there to defend themselves, and the way you have both behaved these last three years has made for a verdant field of unchecked rumor.” Again, she looked between them. “It is time that changes.”

Arabella shifted with discomfort but did not argue, accepting her sister’s words as the right ones.

As for Margot? She wasn’t so certain that she agreed with Elizabeth.

It had only been three years, after all, and surely in that time most had forgotten about Miss Harcourt and the reason she’d fled the ton in shame.

In truth, it has been so long that even I have started to forget… So why would others care to remember?

She resigned herself to the fact that it made no real difference anyhow, and her return to London’s social scene was inevitable because she could not hide forever – that was the main reason she had agreed to attend tonight’s ball.

Not because Arabella had insisted. And certainly not because Elizabeth had forced the issue.

Personal issues, also, those which she tried not to think about, because then she would surely turn as nervous as her cousin was. A problem, but a necessary one that she had to overcome, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

At least this way, I will see firsthand if everyone has forgotten about me. If so, perhaps it is time that I stay. And if not… well, what’s another three years spent hiding?

“Oh, this is going to be fun!” Elizabeth clapped her hands together excitedly. “The first ball of the Season. How I have looked forward to it.”

Arabella sighed. “Just promise me that we do not have to stay all evening – you know how I hate crowds, Elizabeth.”

“Yes, yes,” her older sister waved her down. “I promise I will not force you to spend the entire evening. But we cannot return home too early either. Mother will not be happy.”

“She’s never happy,” Arabella sighed.

Elizabeth laughed. “This is also true.”

The mood in the carriage shifted, and the tension eased enough that the three young women were able to chat comfortably without the weight of nerves hanging over them.

Even if Margot felt them always, gnawing at the back of her conscience, warning her against getting too comfortable.

She looked to the window, through the darkness and the star-splattered sky, wondering to herself how her life had come to this.

I had so much promise. The world was my oyster, and all I needed to do was open it.

Yet here I am, positively terrified at attending a simple ball despite it being something I used to love more than the world.

Oh, how things had changed…

It hadn’t always been like this. Just three years ago, when Margot was eighteen, she had been the toast of the ton, such that her first Season as a debutante had seen her announced by all as the Diamond of the Season.

She was elegantly beautiful. Prim and proper and desirable.

Her only fault had not been her own, raised by a single father who might have loved her but was so distraught by the loss of his wife that he’d succumbed to loneliness and heartache in a way that invited whispers about his mental health and fragility.

And that’s not to mention the booze which followed.

Even with that burden, Margot was looked upon as one that any man should covet. In her desperation to secure a marriage that she hoped might remove the stain from her name and propel her into a life that she thought herself to deserve, she had been courted quickly… too quickly.

Margot did not like to think too often about what had happened next.

How it had happened. The fool she had been, and the consequences borne from it.

But there were many, and she’d been forced to flee London in shame, living with her cousins on a remote estate so that her mistakes might be forgotten.

For three years, she had lived away from prying eyes and gossipy tongues, enjoying the company of her cousins – Arabella especially, a year younger than Margot – but also eager to escape London for reasons that were not far removed from Margot’s own.

And there she might have stayed, had circumstances not brought her back to London.

As for this evening? A necessary evil. It was time to face her past. Dammit, it was time to prove that she had changed from a girl into a woman.

One who would not cower and hide from those who wished her harm, but confront them, stand up to them, prove that she was a true daughter of the peerage and deserving of the life she always dreamed of…

“Oh!” Elizabeth sat up suddenly and shuffled toward the window. “We’re here.”

“Oh no…” Arabella swallowed nervously.

“Nonsense.” Elizabeth slapped playfully at Arabella’s arm.

“Tonight will be fun – I promise you that it will be. All you need to do is present an air of confidence, smile and laugh, and look to be enjoying yourself, and most importantly…” She cocked an eyebrow at both women.

“Don’t do anything that might invite rumor. ”

Margot laughed bitterly. “You make it sound so easy.”

Arabella shifted frantically as the carriage began to slow.

Elizabeth took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze to calm her.

Margot’s breathing was quick but not labored, and she forced calm upon herself as the carriage came to a gentle stop.

That it had been three years since her last ball was strange to think, just as it was to wonder whether this might be her last for another three years, or if things would not be nearly as bad as she presumed.

This is the ton, so likely things will be even worse. Such is the way in which my life is concerned…

“I told you it would not be so bad,” Elizabeth said rightly, a firm nod to confirm the point. “Hardly anyone has even noticed you are here.”

“Are you certain about that?” Margot glanced about the busy ballroom.

“If you look for reasons to complain, you will find them.” Another firm nod of confirmation from Elizabeth.

“But as I see it, your reemergence into high society hasn’t caused nearly the stir that you expected.

” She snorted. “The way Arabella was carrying on, it was as if she thought the two of you might be tarred and feathered.”

“Perhaps we would have been,” Margot offered. “Was it not for the fact that a good tarring is a messy business, and I doubt anyone would take the risk of ruining their gowns.”

“Oh, that is ridiculous talk.”

“Exaggeration, yes,” Margot agreed. “Besides, who would have thought to bring a pail filled with tar with them? I don’t know what I was worrying about.”

To that, Elizabeth gave her cousin a dismissive eye roll.

Elizabeth was half-right in her assessment of the evening.

Indeed, since the three of them had waded their way through the ballroom, hardly a soul had so much as wasted a minute in greeting them…

or looking at them… or appearing as if they wished to find themselves anywhere near Margot and Arabella. And that was the problem.

She felt like a pariah. Margot and Elizabeth were standing toward the back of the expansive ballroom, able to see from their place the breadth of the room and its guests.

It was a cavalcade of color, a sea of moving bodies, a chorus of laughter and cheer everywhere one looked.

Drinks were had. Nibbles were picked at.

People danced, moved in groups, circulated the room, and made sure to be seen by their peers, as that was the entire point of these things.

And Margot could not help but notice how she was being avoided.

No one wasted time approaching her, but many offered a curious glance, a disdainful glare, and she noticed many heads leaning in and whispering as she passed by. No need to guess what is being said. Although I would rather that they say it to my face.

Perhaps she should have been grateful that she was being ignored, because that felt like a better outcome than the alternative.

Yet she could not help but think back to the balls she had attended before the scandal that had ruined her, how fun they had been, how involved she was in them, and how she was always the center of attention in a way that made her feel special.

“Oh my…” Elizabeth said suddenly, taking hold of Margot’s arm.

“What?” Margot looked about, panicking because she sensed the worst about to happen.

“I cannot believe he is here.” Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she cast her gaze across the ball. “Which I suppose is a good thing. Takes the attention away from you.”

“Who? Who is here?”

“Not that the attention needed to be taken off you,” Elizabeth continued. “Still… it provides a nice buffer. Let us call this a happy accident.”

Margot scowled at her cousin. “Who are you speaking of?”

“Who else…” Elizabeth nodded across the ballroom to where Margot could now see a small commotion as guests parted and whispers gathered like a storm. “His Grace, the Duke of Eastmoor.”

Margot had heard of the Duke of Eastmoor – not a surprise, as all women her age had been told of him…

and then warned. He was a known rake of the ton, a philanderer and scoundrel, the type of man whose wake was littered with the broken hearts of maidens he’d offered the world to, only to discard them the moment he got what he needed.

That he was here was strange, as Margot had heard he’d left London years ago. Run off on some adventure across Europe, presumably because there were no women left in England for him to savage.

It's typical, really, that a man as repugnant as that can do as he pleases and still show his face without care for what others think. Meanwhile, I make one mistake, and my entire life is ruined because of it.

She watched the duke wade across the ballroom and had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

He was tall with wide shoulders, although not bulky or muscular, rather strong of poise and confident in his stride.

His hair was dark, his features sharp, his smile cocksure and arrogant.

And where he clearly recognized that there were many eyes watching him with disdain, he did not seem to mind. If anything, he enjoyed it!

“He is rather handsome,” Elizabeth said as she eyed him.

Margot scoffed. “He is not.”

“Oh?” She turned and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Margot.

“It is perception…” Margot glanced again at the duke, who was now speaking with a bunch of fellow lords. He was the center of attention, and they hung on every word he said. “The way he holds himself. His confidence. That is what attracts.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Whatever it is, it is working.”

Margot narrowed her eyes at the duke as if she despised him. Truthfully, she merely despised what he stood for. It reminded her too much of her own misfortunes, for she had once found herself drawn to a man of similar style and allure… and had been ruined because of it.

“Say…” She gave her head a shake and looked about, only just now realizing something. “Where is Arabella?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth blinked, only just then realizing that her younger sister was missing. “She told me she needed fresh air…”

“The balcony?”

“There is none,” Elizabeth said, and then she laughed. “As it is, Arabella, I would say she has fled the ballroom and found a library somewhere. You know how she is.”

“Yes, well…” Margot spared a final glance for the duke before stepping back from Elizabeth. “I might go and find her. Just in case something is wrong.”

“As you say,” Elizabeth said. “But tell her to hurry back – there is no point in coming tonight if she spends the evening hiding.”

“Even if I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her,” Margot joked as she stepped back and then turned.

With that said, she made her way through the ballroom, finding the way easy to navigate as most who saw her coming were glad to step out of the way.

One mistake made and a lifetime is spent paying for it. A lesson learned the hard way… a shame that it was the type of lesson that doesn’t allow for second chances.