Bound By the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #2)

Chapter 1

“Sir Whiskerton!” Lady Aurelia Frid yelled before landing flat on her bosom.

Goddammit.

She groaned, scrambling to her knees as the pain from her fall registered.

Chasing after her cat under the scorching London sun had certainly not been on her schedule for the day. But her monstrous beauty of a fluffy white cat always managed to surprise her, just like when it had jumped off the carriage earlier.

Now, what should have been a harmless trip had brought her to the grounds of Hyde Park in the most humiliating position ever, with her skirts puffed up like a deflated soufflé.

However, to her embarrassment, she could still see her cat running off, looking like he was having fun darting between noblemen’s legs and tripping them.

“One would think you are a tortured pet, with the way you cherish freedom so,” Aurelia muttered before adjusting her bonnet on her head, which had slipped sideways.

The reality couldn’t be further from that. Sir Whiskerton was a cat spoiled beyond reason, and she was much to blame, since she had found him as a kitten.

Taking a deep breath, Aurelia attempted to pick herself up from the floor before anyone of importance spotted her.

It wouldn’t help her escape spinsterhood if any of the still unwed gents were to see her in such an undignified state.

However, a wave of laughter interrupted her, stilling her movements.

Aurelia knew that sound.

The kind of laughter that, though trilled with ladylike amusement, like she had been taught to emulate, hid sinister intentions.

“Oh dear. Do you suppose she’s…quite all right?” came a much too familiar voice, the pitch high and honeyed.

Aurelia didn’t look up. She didn’t need to. She could feel them and the smugness with which they carried themselves. She didn’t even need to see them to know that the quartet would be complete. They travelled as a group to cause the most damage with honeyed words and charming smiles.

The Catterfield sisters.

Had Aurelia known, she would have wished not to be seen by both unmarried gents and the Catterfield sisters. Her reputation would suffer a worse blow with the girls.

They were so perfectly fashionable and well-connected. Most importantly, they were all married. Daughters like them would be a dream come true for Aurelia’s mother.

“Her ankle must be terribly twisted, poor thing,” another voice added with mock concern.

“Or perhaps it’s her pride.”

When the third one spoke without hiding her mockery, Aurelia huffed. She’d had enough. She pushed herself up slowly from the floor, brushing gravel from her gloves and dignity from her knees.

“Good morning, ladies,” she greeted with a cheeriness that she hoped masked her embarrassment. “Don’t mind me. I was just chasing after my cat. He escaped this morning and led me all the way here. Have you seen him? Tiny, white, green eyes?”

The sisters blinked in synchrony and stared at her for a moment.

Then, the eldest, Dorothea, gave a grin that held a hint of smugness. Instantly, Aurelia knew there wouldn’t be anything pleasant in her words.

“Was he the one who scratched the vicar’s boots during the Sunday sermon?”

Aurelia breathed deeply, feeling her cheeks redden slightly. “He thought they were old boots.”

The women laughed politely at her response, and she smiled at them through clenched teeth.

“Well, if we see your brave-knight cat, we’ll be sure to tell him to return home,” Frances, the youngest, spoke, fanning herself delicately. “But I must remark on how… spirited you are. So very independent and strong. It must be terribly exciting, chasing animals through London.”

Aurelia managed another sweet smile, trying her best to maintain her composure. To anyone listening in on their conversation, they would think they were all having a friendly repartee, and she would be damned before she gave the vipers any more weapons to use against her.

“Indeed.” She nodded. “And you must be terribly brave, daring to wear white on such a gloomy day. We should hope the weather doesn’t turn.”

The silence from the sisters this time was delicious, and she treasured the dumbfounded look on their delicate faces with a secret smirk.

Taste of your own medicine. Provoking politeness.

Without waiting for any of them to speak again, Aurelia quickly bobbed a curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me, Sir Whiskerton’s probably terrorizing someone else’s boots by now.”

She turned before they could recover, cheeks burning but chin held high. There was no use pretending she didn’t already know she was the subject of that day’s whispered amusements. She knew what she was in their eyes. Twenty-three, unmarried, and chasing after a cat instead of a husband.

But damn it, she liked her cat.

And unfortunately, he liked her.

Distancing herself further from the sisters, the rebellious animal in question reappeared. He lifted his head from beyond a trimmed edge, and she could almost see a smug look on his tiny face.

“Get back here, you infuriating creature!” she called out.

Her cat flicked his tail, his eyes glittering like trouble in feline form. If he could talk, he would certainly be telling her, Catch me if you dare. And without caring to wait for her, he turned and darted even deeper into the park.

A frustrated groan had her rubbing her temples. But despite how tired she was, she couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t abandon him. Because in truth, she needed him more than he needed her.

Taking a deep breath, she resumed walking, following the path the cat had taken.

Eventually, she noticed the path was becoming more… secluded. The trees grew thicker, and the road became quieter with the absence of gossiping ladies and noisy children. Trepidation filled her as she eyed the barely defined path ahead, not liking how devoid it was of human attention.

Hiking her skirts up again and gritting her teeth, she continued moving through the trees with renewed determination. She would find the stubborn creature and return home quickly before it got too dark or the weather turned, as she had mentioned.

But her determination was quickly met with a challenge when something unexpected greeted her on the other side.

Yes, yes, she found her cat. The silly creature was lounging behind a shrub with the satisfaction of a king surveying his kingdom. But for that moment, chasing after him wasn’t the challenge.

Rather, it was the scene ahead of her.

A very quiet, very private scene.

She sighted the silhouette of two men standing several paces ahead. They were conversing in hushed, intense tones, seeming so absorbed that they didn’t notice her presence.

She was quite thankful for that, because something about the presence of these strange men felt like a storm gathering that had her stopping dead in her tracks, especially the taller one.

The one who looked like a charming statue that suddenly decided to breathe.

He stood with his back half-turned, and his midnight-blue coat fit him so perfectly that it could have been stitched onto his skin. So much power clung to him.

Although she couldn’t see his face except the sharp line of his jaw, something about the shape of his shoulders utterly, foolishly, piqued her curiosity.

“She’s suitable,” the other man, who looked older, continued to speak. “Uncomplicated. Well-mannered, according to her former governess. No expectations. Just parents who can’t wait to marry her off.”

Aurelia knew she was supposed to grab her damned cat and leave. But for someone like her, who was a spinster struggling to find a match, the topic of marriage always caught her interest.

So she remained behind the tree, her head poking out only slightly.

The blue-coated man didn’t answer immediately. And she waited. She wanted to know what his voice sounded like.

When he spoke, his voice was deep, composed, and colder than the autumn wind. “I don’t care who she is, as long as she signs the papers, Samuel.”

Aurelia blinked.

He doesn’t care who his bride is?

“She has a pretty face and a respectable background. Or as respectable as one can find with noble blood. You’re certain you don’t wish to meet her beforehand?”

“No.”

“Not even a letter of introduction?”

“No.”

Aurelia’s mouth curved slightly, almost feeling sorry for whoever the lady was. As a hopeless romantic, she wouldn’t wish that for herself—getting married to a stranger who lacked the barest trace of empathy.

The older man sighed. “Very well. I’ll move forward with the arrangement. Though I must say, it is unusual to go through a solicitor’s list instead of—”

“I am not interested in parading through another Season of empty-headed debutantes,” the blue-coated man stated flatly. “And I’ve no intention of marrying for romance,” he added, his voice laced with quiet disdain.

How charming.

Aurelia folded her arms.

She’d had enough of the strange brooding man and his solicitor. She needed to get her cat out of the area as quickly and quietly as she could.

Her gaze dropped to Sir Whiskerton, who hadn’t left his spot.

“Good, now stay right where you are,” she whispered.

She took a step, careful not to step on the dry leaves, before she quietly tried to grab his fur. But just as she did, he flicked his tail and darted past her ankle with the speed of a cannonball.

“Whiskerton…!”

Too late.

It was too damn late.

Aurelia watched in horror as the cat jogged boldly toward the two men. He stopped in front of the blue-coated man and flicked his tail majestically, before hissing.

It was the kind of loud hiss that broke through the thick quiet of the area.

The blue-coated man finally turned. Despite the trouble caused by her cat, Aurelia could only focus on one fact.

The man looked far worse than she had expected.

Not in the traditional sense.

Rather, his face was simply breathtaking, with aristocratic brows, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth that looked like it had long ago forgotten how to smile. And those eyes of his, they were the most beautiful shade of blue, but so cold.

A look of utter disbelief crossed his face. Seeing that, Aurelia knew it was time to step out of the shadows.

At the sounds of her footsteps, those stern eyes of his slowly rose to her.

“My apologies,” she said as she stepped forward, before scooping Sir Whiskerton into her arms with all the grace of a guilty servant retrieving a drunken uncle. She cleared her throat and straightened. “He’s not usually so—” the cat hissed again. “—dramatic,” she finished flatly.

The man stared at her.

His stare wasn’t admiring or assessing. It was the kind that measured her usefulness and discarded her all within the space of a single glance. The kind of stare that came with a silence so powerful that she felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead.

“If you cannot manage your pet,” he finally spoke, his voice cool and distant, “perhaps you ought not bring it into public spaces.”

She blinked. “Oh, well, he only escaped the carriage because a dog barked at him.”

“And whose fault was that?” He raised a brow.

She blinked again. “The dog’s?”

He did not seem to find her amusing. Rather, his gaze dropped back to the cat, and his lips curled into a faint, disdainful sneer.

“That,” he scoffed, “is not a pet. That is a rat in an ill-fitting fur coat.”

Aurelia gasped, his words hitting her like a slap across the face.

Rat? Ill-fitting?

“He is not a rat,” she corrected in a clipped tone, squeezing Sir Whiskerton even tighter.

“Mm,” the man murmured, with a restrained snicker that made her step forward.

“I’ll have you know that he has a lineage. He was a gift from a colonel in India who claimed he once survived a cobra bite as a kitten.”

“Then perhaps the cobra died of shame.”

A bark of laughter escaped the older man beside him, but he quickly smothered it with a cough when her gaze snapped to him.

His audacious words left her stunned for a moment, and she wanted to know more about him. To know about who dared to deem the cat of the Earl of Scovell’s daughter ill-fitting.

“And who might you be, exactly, to pass such judgments on innocent animals?” She tilted her head. “Do you have any idea of who I am?”

The blue-coated man didn’t flinch, didn’t look a tad intimidated. “Someone who values discipline,” he responded eventually, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones.

“You strike me as the sort of man who irons his cravats and frightens small children for entertainment.”

He tilted his head slightly, like a predator amused by a mouse who had learned to squeak back.

“You’re bold,” he observed quietly.

The park had gotten dark by now, and she was standing in front of two strangers.

“Not by choice,” she muttered. “It’s just that I find it hard to remain silent when my cat’s being verbally assaulted by someone dressed like a brooding thundercloud.”

For a second, his mouth twitched, hinting at something close to amusement. But it was gone before she could even place it. As though something close to a smile was rare on that face of his.

Strangely, something about this man piqued her curiosity.

“I suggest,” he spoke again after a while, “you keep your pet on a leash.”

She inhaled sharply. “If I put anyone on a leash today, I assure you, it won’t be the cat…” she trailed off when he turned around abruptly, disregarding her as he walked off, his long strides cutting through the grass as if he owned the very earth beneath him.

Just like that, Aurelia was left standing in the shadowed park, watching the two men disappear in the distance. For some reason, her breathing was shallow, and her heartbeat was oddly loud in her ears.

Sir Whiskerton licked his paw with calm detachment, snuggling deeper into her embrace as though he had not just caused chaos.

“Good heavens,” she muttered as she looked down at him. “Was that… was that real?”

He blinked up at her.

She shook her head. She couldn’t imagine the last time she felt this way—dazed, annoyed, and entirely too breathless for someone who had just been insulted by a perfect stranger.

And what a stranger.

She hadn’t caught his name, and yet something about him stuck in the back of her mind. Like the aftermath of a storm. Or the memory of a touch that never happened.

She drew a breath before adjusting her bonnet and brushing off imaginary dust from her sleeve. It was time to go home.

As she retraced her steps toward the park’s main path, her thoughts kept returning to the alluring stranger.

She glanced down at the smug ball of fur in her arms. “This is your fault,” she whispered. “I was perfectly content being unremarkable today.”

Sir Whiskerton purred louder.

By the time Aurelia made it back to the iron gates, the ladies had vanished, and her knees still ached faintly from her earlier fall.

But it wasn’t the fall she kept thinking about. It was those cold eyes that had seemed to see everything and yet nothing at once.

She didn’t know his name.

But deep in her bones, something told her that she hadn’t seen the last of him.