The Duke of Frost (The Dukes of Desire #2)

Chapter 1

“Anastasia, my dear! What are you doing here? And without sending word ahead! We were not… expecting you.”

Anastasia winced at the tone of her mother’s voice.

The Viscountess of Wilkins had always been a woman of theatrics, quick to gasp, sigh, or flutter over the smallest of things.

To anyone else, her words might have sounded no more than pleasantly surprised, but Anastasia heard the familiar tremor beneath.

Her mother not only had not expected her, but was also not at all pleased to see her.

It hurt. She had imagined a warmer welcome after two years away at her aunt’s quiet country home. When her mother had drawn her straight into her private chambers, Anastasia had allowed herself to hope it was a sign of welcome.

I should have expected as much. Yet, foolishly, I still hoped for something… different after all this time.

Anastasia set the thought aside and forced a smile onto her face.

“I am sorry not to have written ahead, but I was eager to come home… it has been so long and…”

Whatever her mother might have replied was drowned out by an excited cry from the room that connected to her mother’s private quarters.

Moments later, Serenity came hurrying in, her skirts rustling and her soft chestnut locks flowing around her face.

“Anastasia! Welcome back! I did not know you were coming home.”

Anastasia clasped her younger sister’s hands and drew her into a swift embrace, glad to see one person who was pleased with her return.

“I… I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It is! And a perfectly lovely one. Mama and I were just speaking the other day about my plans for the Season, and I was saying—”

“Serenity. That is enough. There are guests to attend to in the gardens, and it is not polite to leave them without a hostess to greet them.” There was an edge to her mother’s voice that made Anastasia’s heart sink further.

A party—likely a garden party at this hour. That explained the carriages along the drive. And it explained why her mother had ushered her into her private quarters. She must have wanted to be sure that none of her guests would see her arrival—or gossip about her return.

Of course, she would hide me away. I am still the family’s shame. Perhaps I deserve it… but I thought two years of exile was punishment enough. Am I never to be more than my scandal?

The thought made Anastasia straighten her shoulders and lift her chin.

While it was true that she had been relieved to escape from the eyes of society two years ago, things were different now.

“I apologize for not offering more warning, but I was eager to be home. After all, it is Serenity’s third Season, and after two years away, what better time to—”

“Oh, you simply must be in jest!” Lady Dawson put a hand to her forehead.

She feigned a stagger before falling heavily—though gracefully—onto the couch that looked as if it had been placed there solely to accommodate her mother’s dramatics.

“You want to come back here? For your sister’s Season?

How could you think… Your father would be furious to see you!

And the way the ladies of the ton would talk! ”

The last word was almost a wail as her mother drooped into a reclining posture, her face twisted into a carefully elegant mask of tragic distress.

“How could you risk tainting Serenity’s prospects, after everything…”

“Surely, it is not that bad, Mama.” Anastasia bit her lip. “It has been two years. I am certain most of the ton has forgotten all about me. With two Seasons’ worth of scandals and news to gossip about, they will find me utterly uninteresting.”

“Oh, you foolish child!” Morticia sniffled into a lace handkerchief. “You do not understand… Serenity’s prospects if she remains under the same roof as someone with your reputation… Oh, it is not to be borne. The strain on my poor nerves…” She huffed pitifully.

Anastasia remained unmoved. She had seen her mother succumb to such fits of hysteria before, and it only served to reinforce her privately held belief that her mother was wrong; no one would care about her presence.

Serenity frowned, a worried line creasing her youthful face before she stepped forward.

“Mama, I do not think it so bad as all that, but if you are worried, I am certain Evangeline might let Anastasia stay with her if it would ease your… Ouch!”

Serenity jumped and yelped in an almost unladylike fashion as her mother, in one of the sudden reversals Anastasia had suspected might occur, darted from her fainting couch and seized her youngest daughter’s ear.

“That is out of the question. Anastasia will most certainly not be imposing on your elder sister after her disgraceful behavior when she jilted His Grace and ran away. It would be the height of poor taste. No, absolutely not.”

The Viscountess marched her youngest daughter to the door and directed her firmly into the hallway. “Now, you will go and entertain our guests, as a proper hostess should, while I speak with Anastasia.”

“But, Mama…” The door shut on Serenity’s entreaties, and Anastasia braced herself as her mother turned to face her.

“Mama…”

“Now listen to me. If your father knew you were here, he would be quite livid. Especially if you were to embarrass him by showing up at a public event like this. What would people say to see you swanning about like some unrepentant hussy?”

Anastasia flushed despite her determination not to allow her mother’s words to sting. “Mama, are you sure you are not exaggerating? It cannot be so terrible as all that. It has been two years…”

“And if it were two decades, your appearance would still set tongues wagging among the ton after what you have done.” Her mother shook her head. “No, you simply cannot be here! Serenity has already struggled too much with her past two Seasons because of your scandals.”

“Mama, I think you are overreacting, like you so often do.” Anastasia stiffened her spine once more. “But there is a simple way to test the truth, and prove to you that people barely remember what happened.”

With that, she strode out of the room. Her mother called out behind her, but Anastasia lifted her chin and ignored her cries.

I will go down to the garden party. Surely, things cannot be as bad as Mama makes them out to be. Besides, I cannot go back to Frostmore. Not after…

Resolved in her plan, Anastasia descended the stairs. She paused in the powder room to freshen up her appearance, then made her way toward the back gardens. She paused by the doorway leading to the garden terrace, straightened the skirt of her baby-blue day dress one last time, then strode out.

Her jaw tightened as the first guest’s gaze caught hers, a flicker of judgment flashing in their eyes. The Baroness of Litchford stiffened, clutching her husband’s arm before hastening him toward a nearby knot of guests gathered about the refreshment table.

From her place by the wall, Anastasia saw the whispers spread.

First one lady, then another, then another—eyes sliding her way, lips pursing, words passing in low tones that leaped from mouth to ear like fire.

And like flames, their touch burned. Anastasia heard snatches as she moved toward the refreshment table.

“…quite the audacity…”

“…after that captain… and Baron Oxford…”

“Exiled to the country, that’s what I heard…”

“…heard she was confined… gave the baby up for adoption…”

“…scorned a duke, of all things…”

With every word, Anastasia felt her heart sink. Her mother was right. She had never imagined that the rumors could still be so strong, even after two years. Even worse than the words were the looks of scorn and faint disgust, poorly masked by shallow, polite expressions.

The dread sharpened when Anastasia noticed Viscountess Rathmore.

The woman cast her a look of glacial contempt before gliding to her father’s side.

Anastasia could not hear what was said, but there was no mistaking that it concerned her.

A moment later, her father’s head snapped toward her, and a firm scowl settled over his features.

Anastasia winced.

Rathmore departed soon after, followed by a slow trickle of others, each pausing only long enough to murmur a few words to her father and deliver a scathing look of disappointment and disgust in Anastasia’s direction.

There was never a child! How could anyone say such a thing? Surely they cannot believe…

“Anastasia.” Her father’s voice made her flinch. He strode toward her, his face carved with anger and disappointment. “Why are you here?”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a sharp wave toward the doors. “Inside. We will discuss this in my study.”

Sick to her stomach, Anastasia obeyed. They walked in brittle silence through the elegant halls until her father ushered her into his study, closing the door behind them with a decisive thud. He took his place behind the heavy oak desk, his eyes cold.

“Explain yourself.”

“I just wanted to come home… it has been two years and now that the Duke is…” Her voice faltered. “I missed you and Mama and Serenity. I did not think—”

“That is certainly true. You did not.” His words cracked like a whip.

“Did I not tell you to stay away until your sister was safely wed? And yet you barge back now, on the very eve of Serenity’s Season.

Worse, you parade yourself before my guests, leaving them to assume you have been welcomed back into our family.

Have you no thought for how your disgrace would damage your sister’s chances? ”

“I am so sorry. I thought—”

Her father continued speaking, as if she had said nothing. “Several ladies have already made it plain they will not appear where you are received. Serenity’s prospects are at stake, and you endanger them with your selfishness!”

Anastasia bowed her head, every word slicing through her. She wanted to protest, to remind him of her exile, her penance, the loneliness she had borne, the treatment she had received by the late duke, but the memory of the ton’s scornful eyes silenced her.

“I realize I might have been hasty, Father,” she whispered. “But I only wished to be home. With my family.”

“And if you had not been so reckless, you would have realized that we cannot afford to be associated with you, not at this time.” Her father scowled at her. “Better for you to return to Frostmore until Serenity is wed.”

Her heart rebelled, and tears welled in her eyes, but the weight of those departing stares crushed the words in her throat. She knew her family was right. At last, there was only one answer left for her to give.

“Yes, Father.”