Her Wolf of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

“ S ister, you simply must have higher expectations for yourself than this!”

Emma sighed, resting her head against the cool window of the carriage. On more than one occasion, it rattled and her head bumped against it gently, but she paid it no mind. In fact, she hoped she might hit her head even harder and therefore not have to listen to another word from her younger sister.

She had thought it made perfect sense for her not to search for suitors herself during their trip, but Sarah clearly had other ideas. She disagreed with them completely, of course, as they were not at all aligned with her own: find Sarah a husband, see her married off, and then escape.

“Sarah,” she said at last, pulling away from the window, “you and I both know that my prospects are slim to none. I am five-and-twenty, and it is not as though I am a prize.”

“Good,” their father grumbled. “It appears you have learned something after all.”

“That does not mean you cannot try,” Sarah replied, ignoring the comment. “You may surprise yourself!”

Sarah would only have such enthusiasm until the moment they stepped out of the carriage. Emma reminded herself of this in the hopes that the following half an hour might be a little more bearable.

It was strange how timid Sarah was when in front of others. She was a very pretty girl. She should have had far more confidence in herself than she did, and yet the moment eyes were on her she withdrew into herself.

Emma tried not to judge her too harshly for that. After all, even as a spinster she could not scoff at her own looks (though she did). It wasn’t that she was not pretty, for as far as the aristocratic standard went she was quite acceptable, but she hated her reflection. She was not blessed with her mother’s green eyes as Sarah had been. They were hazel, and she hated them entirely.

“In any case,” Emma said gently, “I am not attending this party for myself. I am doing so for your sake.”

“Everything you do is for my sake.”

“And for good reason! You know, I heard that there will be a few dukes in attendance. You may surprise yourself, as you say.”

“Sister, the party is to be hosted by a duke.”

Emma blinked. She was not made aware of who they were to be staying with, and she was quite surprised that their father had told Sarah, even more so that her sister had kept such knowledge from her.

“If a duke is hosting, then that is even better. You may find during your introductions that you fall for him at once, and then this shall all be settled. Which duke was it, again?”

“You will never find a match for your sister if you are this stupid,” her father sighed. “I do not know why you don’t simply take my offer of a friend of mine being her husband.”

“We have a deal, Father. I have until she turns one-and-twenty. That leaves a year and a half until you can call upon a friend.”

She did not often stand up to her father, but on that occasion she hadn’t felt like she had much of a choice. He had been furious with her for turning three-and-twenty and still turning suitors away, and it was a deal that she had to make to stop him from ridding himself of both of them.

It was beneficial to him, too, of course, for it meant he would not have to lift a finger. Emma would do everything, and he would simply pay for whatever was necessary. He did so without complaint, which was one of very few things that Emma was grateful to him for.

“Then you have less than a year and a half,” her father said, “to learn all of the eligible dukes’ names. The one hosting, for example. Sarah, do you remember it?”

“Yes, Father. It is the Duke of Pridefield.”

Their father smiled triumphantly, as if proving his point that Emma was an imbecile, but Emma did not notice. Instead, her blood ran cold. She knew of the man, and of his equally dangerous friend.

“The Duke of Pridefield,” she whispered. “I am indeed aware of him, Sarah, and he is not the sort of man you will be associating with. You will not speak to him, am I clear?”

“I must at least make an introduction. He is the host, after all.”

“I will allow that, but from then on you shall avoid him at all costs.”

“Why?” Sarah asked, and as Emma did not think her father would explain it to her, she took matters into her own hands.

“He is a scoundrel, as is his friend. One does not receive the moniker of ‘Ruiner of Reputations’ without reason, after all. In any case, you will do well to avoid the both of them.”

“You will not tell your sister what to do,” their father said coldly. “You might think that you know better than I do, but as is always the case you are wrong. Should the Duke of Pridefield express an interest in your sister, then the match is settled, no matter what deal we once had.”

“But he is a rake, Father. He is known for his scandalous reputation, which I would wager is why you did not tell me that it was his estate we would be visiting. Sarah deserves far better than that.”

“The both of you deserve exactly what I have planned for you. Sarah shall marry the highest ranking gentleman that offers to take her hand, and you shall…”

Emma knew perfectly well that he did not care what became of her. His spinster daughter was a disappointment in his eyes. It was just as well that he had no intentions of finding her a match, she thought, as that was not why she was attending the party. It was to take place over several days, and in that time Emma hoped to find a suitor for her sister. That was all that she intended to do, and it was already a daunting prospect. Sarah wanted a love match, and that was a very finicky thing indeed.

Upon their arrival, Emma saw her three friends in an instant. They were all standing together, a strange mismatch of ladies that Emma would only add to the variety of. Their looks, however, did not matter to her at all. She was simply ecstatic to see them. She practically threw herself out of the carriage in excitement; she knew she would receive a scolding for that from her father that evening but she didn’t dwell on it.

“You are here at last!” Cecilia Penton beamed. “I was afraid that you were not coming. We spinsters must stay with one another, you know.”

“I believe what you meant to say is that without me you are the oldest,” Emma laughed.

It was true; Cecilia was but three-and-twenty, though she might as well have been a spinster since she was all of seven.

Cecilia laughed, a stray blonde ringlet bouncing as she did so. It was a shame that she had never had any interest in marriage, for she was the very definition of beauty. Her blue eyes captivated many gentlemen, the beauty marks beneath her eye and above her lip giving her a very striking appearance, but the words coming from her pretty red lips frightened each one away. It was just as she liked it.

“Well,” Cecilia continued, “I must admit that is another excellent reason for my liking you so much. I cannot wrangle these two blushing future brides alone.”

“Cecilia, be quiet!” Dorothy yelped.

“Why? Can you not stand the thought of anyone looking at you?”

“You know perfectly well that I cannot,” Dorothy huffed, folding her arms over her ample bosom, her cheeks flaming so much that they almost hid her freckles.

“Well, unfortunately,” Emma said kindly, “you are one of four very witty ladies. You cannot hide away forever.”

“Sadly, no. Then again, among the three of you I can hide very well. I am the shortest, after all, and though wider than you I believe gentlemen find it easy to overlook the one that appears to have been plucked from a local farm and wedged into orange satin.”

Beatrice, the youngest of the group, grimaced.

“Your sister again?”

“Indeed. I have tried so hard to avoid her wonderful advice, but she refuses to let me escape into the corner. All of my gowns are these horrific bright shades.”

“Then it is just as well that I have your measurements,” Cecilia winked, “as well as a lack of need for my own new gowns. I shall show you what I have later, yes?”

Dorothy’s green eyes came to life.

“Oh, Cecilia, thank you!”

They were a strange group of all shapes and sizes, all with different ideas of what they wanted, but they did all agree on the very important fact that they would, eventually, achieve their dreams. That made their friendship very easy, and as a debutante, Emma knew that Beatrice was very grateful for that. Her dark blue eyes were wide, watching the exchange.

“I thought we ladies were supposed to see each other as competition,” she joked.

“Should I ever be seen as competition,” Cecilia grinned, “something must have gone very wrong, indeed.”

“None of us are competition to you, Bea,” Dorothy sighed. “Well, except for Emma, should she ever change her mind.”

“Dorothy Godwin,” Emma said in a strict tone worthy of a governess, “I cannot have this week pass with you being so… like this. You are a beautiful young lady, and only twenty. One day, you shall find a very nice gentleman that shares your floral passions and you shall be very happy indeed.”

“I do hope so.”

“I know you will!” Beatrice smiled.

Beatrice Jennings was the newest addition to their group, having met them at a ball a few months prior, but it was as though she had always been there. The best part about her was that she softened whatever Cecilia said, which lightened Emma’s load a good deal.

“Have you ever been to this estate?” Dorothy asked, turning to Emma. “The three of us have not.”

“Nor have I, no. I do not tend to spend time with rakish dukes. It would be a very nasty habit indeed.”

A dry cough and a side glance from her father told her that she had said a little too much with that.

“It wouldn’t be too bad,” Cecilia said absent-mindedly, “to have been born as one, though.”

“A dream, truly,” Emma replied, rolling her eyes. “Though I must say, the Pridefield Estate is certainly grand. Well maintained, too.”

“Unless the Duke made his staff do it quickly as he knew of our arrival,” Beatrice suggested.

“No,” Dorothy said softly. “I have already looked at the grounds. They are clearly kept to this standard at all times. I would have been able to tell if they were not.”

The three other ladies laughed at that. Dorothy was an intelligent lady, but she did not always notice when a joke was being made.

“Oh!” Beatrice said quickly. “Emma, have you met– Emma?”

But Emma had already followed her friend’s line of vision, her eyes coming to a stop on a devastatingly handsome gentleman. He was tall, muscular but not too terribly so, with green eyes beneath a brush of brown hair. She had to admit, his hair was usually a little too long for her taste, but she didn’t seem to mind when it came to him. Then, she saw that he was standing beside their host, and her heart pounded as she realized just who he was.

“Emma?” Cecilia asked, nudging her sharply.

“Cecilia, that hurt!” she whined. “What is it?”

“Do you not know who he is?”

“Of course I do. He is the Duke of Lupton, the Duke of Pridefield’s rakish friend.”

“Precisely. Perhaps it might be a good idea to greet him?”

“Certainly not. I would rather speak with that tree than risk engaging in conversation with him.”

“You are a liar. I saw how you were looking at him.”

“I… You simply do not see very many men as tall as him, that is all. It caught my attention.”

“Caught and didn’t let go,” Beatrice grinned.

“That is nonsense. You all know that I am only here for Sarah’s sake.”

“Then perhaps,” Dorothy considered, “for Sarah’s sake, you should make yourself known to him? He ought to at least know who the two of you are.”

“Have you all made introductions?”

All three ladies nodded, which caught Emma by surprise. It made sense for Beatrice to have done so, but Dorothy was terribly shy and Cecilia preferred to frighten gentlemen to making herself known to them. It meant, however, that other than Sarah, who was off speaking with her own friends, she would have to make his acquaintance alone.

And then he spotted her.

He came over to her in an instant, smiling devilishly. He had a confident air about him, which she tried not to take as a bad sign.

“Your Grace,” Cecilia said politely, “this is Miss Emma Kendall. Emma, this is His Grace, Levi Hunter the Duke of Lupton.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Emma curtseyed, hoping her cheeks were not stained pink.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Kendall. I do hope that you enjoy your time here. I know that I intend to.”

His eyes lingered on hers for a moment, the brilliant green holding her in place before he smirked a little and walked away.

No, she said to herself, No, I must be mistaken.

“Emma?” Beatrice asked. “What has gotten into you? You look terrified!”

“Did you notice that?”

“Notice what?”

“He was smiling— smirking— at me. Is there something on my face? On my gown?”

“Why do you care if there is?” Cecilia asked.

“Is there?”

“No,” Beatrice said gently, “though I must agree with Cecilia. You do not usually care for such things.”

“Yes I do. You all know that I like to be presentable.”

“Yes, but not to the extent that you panic like this.”

“Ah,” Cecilia said knowingly.

“What?” Dorothy asked.

“Nothing,” she grinned. “Nothing at all. Now, we really ought to see some other guests before the festivities begin. Are your chaperones nearby?”

Both young ladies nodded, gesturing to their mothers. Emma’s heart ached. It had been her father that was charged with her entrance into society, and it only made her more determined to undertake Sarah’s. She couldn’t allow her sister to go through what she had. Perhaps, if her mother had been alive…

She shook her head and tried not to think about it. It was how her life had been, and there was no use dreaming about it being any other way. She would be happy once Sarah was married, she was certain of it.

She simply had to find her a match, first.