His Forsaken Duchess (Beastly Dukes #1)

Prologue

“ A udrey, I cannot believe your luck!” declared Grace Winslow, the Countess of Stonebridge, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she looked over the bride with an approving eye. “You are the envy of every unmarried lady in England.”

“I daresay the married ones too!” Lady Lilianna Winslow, the Countess’ middle daughter, said from her seat near the window.

Seated before the gilded vanity, Lady Audrey Winslow tilted her head as her lady’s maid inserted another pearl pin into her hair. The pearls caught the sunlight streaming through the high windows, lending her chignon an elegance that matched her pale pink wedding dress.

She gave her stepmother a polite smile through the mirror, the faintest twitch of amusement at the corners of her lips. “Is that what everyone is saying?”

“To marry a duke so young—and handsome, no less. It is a rarity, indeed. Most of the available men are either far too old or entirely lacking in charm.”

Lilianna let out a dramatic sigh as she folded her hands over her pale blue muslin skirt. “I cannot wait for my debut next Season. Who knows? Perhaps I, too, shall ensnare the heart of a duke. Though I suppose,” she added with a theatrical pout, “I might have to settle for a marquess, seeing as young dukes are a rarity.”

“By the time I come out, there won’t be a single duke left unattached, I am sure of it.” Their younger sister, Lady Clarise Winslow, sat cross-legged on the rug, leaning forward with the unguarded eagerness of youth.

“Three more years,” she lamented with an exaggerated groan. “But at least we have the vol-au-vents to look forward to. I heard that Cook had outdone herself for the wedding breakfast. I simply cannot wait to taste them!”

“Oh, there will be pineapples, too!” Lilianna said. “Everyone is talking about the pineapples and how rare of a delicacy they are!” She turned to Audrey. “They are still not as rare as your Duke.”

Audrey’s laugh was warm but restrained, her manner as poised as ever. “Perhaps rare delights are best savored when they come,” she replied, glancing at Clarise in the mirror. “I daresay there are many other titles to be considered.”

Clarise straightened, her expression earnest as she declared, “But none so grand as ‘Duchess.’ Truly, Audrey, you are the luckiest among us.”

“Let us not forget that such fortune requires meticulous planning,” Audrey said lightly, smoothing an invisible crease from the delicate lace cuff of her dress. Her gaze shifted to her stepmother. “Mama, the peony garlands—are they all in place as I instructed? Along the nave and the entryway?”

Grace rose from her chair with a soft laugh and crossed the room to place a reassuring hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “They are precisely where you wanted them, my dear. And the Camelias are perfectly arranged in their glass displays. Everything is exactly as you envisioned.”

Audrey exhaled, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Thank heavens. I could not bear to think of the arrangements appearing haphazard.”

Grace chuckled, giving Audrey’s shoulder a gentle pat. “You must not fret over these trifles, Audrey.”

“Trifles?” Audrey turned her head slightly, her gaze sharpening as she met her stepmother’s kind but amused eyes. “Mama, these are not trifles. A wedding is not merely an exchange of vows; it is a spectacle, a memory that will linger in the minds of all who attend. Every detail matters.”

“And the Duke?” Lilianna interjected, a teasing glint in her green eyes.

Audrey allowed her lips to curl into a faint smile, her expression composed as her maid carefully adjusted the last pin in her hair. Her reflection in the mirror betrayed nothing of her thoughts, yet inwardly, two words echoed with faint amusement: The Duke?

How could he possibly rival the wedding itself? The flowers, the music, the reception—all were planned to perfection. These are the details that will remain in memory, long after the vows are forgotten.

“I wonder,” Lilianna said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “if all the stories about him are true.”

“What stories?” Audrey asked, though her tone was dry, her eyebrow rising slightly.

“Oh, you must have heard them,” Lilianna replied with an air of delight. “They say he once fought a mountain lion and has the scars to prove it.”

Clarise’s eyes widened. “And that he spent a season aboard a pirate ship!” she added, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

Audrey’s smile turned slightly sardonic as she turned her attention back to the mirror. “Surely the ton has not descended to spinning such wild fancies. A duke, of all people, consorting with pirates? Absurd.”

“And yet,” Lilianna persisted, her grin mischievous, “would it not be terribly romantic if it were true?”

“Romantic?” Audrey repeated. “Romance is a luxury afforded to poets and dreamers, not dukes bound by duty and propriety. The idea is as ridiculous as the notion of battling a mountain lion.”

Her sisters erupted into a chorus of laughter, their merriment filling the room. Audrey’s lips twitched with the faintest smile as she allowed the sound to wash over her, her gaze lingering on her reflection.

She looked every inch the composed Duchess-to-be, yet her thoughts danced elsewhere, far from the gossip and the man waiting for her at the altar.

The wedding—now, that is what truly matters. Although, I wonder if he will keep his promise…

The lady’s maid stepped back with a satisfied smile, and Audrey inclined her head. “Thank you, Miss Smith,” she offered, her tone polite.

Miss Smith curtsied deeply before stepping aside, her hands smoothing the folds of her apron. She lingered a moment longer, her eyes darting to the Countess, as if seeking approval of her work.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Miss Smith. That will be all for now.”

She curtsied once more and exited the room quietly.

“Now, girls,” Grace said, turning to Lilianna and Clarise, who were perched nearby, their chatter filling the room like the melody of songbirds. “It is time for you both to excuse us.”

Lilianna’s smile faltered, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “But why, Mama? We are quite content here.”

“As am I,” Clarise added, folding her arms with the indignation of her fifteen years. “Why must we leave?”

Grace’s lips curled into an indulgent smile. “Because, my dears, there are matters that require privacy between a mother and her eldest daughter on her wedding day. You may wait downstairs.”

“But, Mama?—”

“No arguments, Lilianna,” Grace said firmly, though her voice remained gentle. “The wedding is soon, and your sister has many preparations still ahead of her.”

Lilianna huffed but rose with a swish of her pale muslin skirt. “Very well, though I cannot imagine what requires such secrecy.”

Clarise followed suit, dragging her feet with a dramatic sigh. “At least allow me to stay by the door. What if Audrey needs something?”

“She has me for that,” Grace replied with a pointed look. “Now, off you go.”

With much muttering and reluctant glances, the two sisters finally left the room, their footsteps echoing faintly down the hallway.

Grace turned to Audrey, her smile softening as she closed the door. “Now, my dear,” she said, her voice touched with nervousness, “we may speak freely.”

Audrey arched an eyebrow, her smile faltering slightly. “It seems you have sent them away on a rather mysterious pretext, Mama. Should I be concerned?”

“Not at all, my dear,” Grace said, her hands fluttering nervously before she clasped them tightly in front of her. “It is simply that there are certain… matters… that I feel I must address with you before you marry.”

Audrey’s eyebrows knit together, though she remained silent. Her stepmother’s uncharacteristic awkwardness made her uneasy.

“Well,” Grace began, pacing a short distance before turning back to Audrey. “Marriage, you see, is… much like… a garden. Yes, a garden! It requires care, patience, and a great deal of attention.”

Audrey blinked. “A garden, Mama?”

“Precisely,” Grace said, her voice firm, though her cheeks had turned a faint shade of pink. “There are certain… duties… one must tend to, just as one tends to a garden.”

“I see,” Audrey replied slowly, though she felt more confused than ever.

“And,” Grace continued, her voice growing slightly more strained, “it is important to understand that… well… sometimes one must trust the gardener to know what is best.”

Audrey tilted her head to the side, feigning an expression of thoughtful consideration. “The gardener?”

“Yes,” Grace said quickly, clearly relieved by the metaphor’s apparent success. “In this case, it will be your husband. He will, of course, understand how to… cultivate the garden properly.”

At that, realization began to dawn on Audrey, though she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “Oh… I do believe I understand now, Mama.”

Grace’s shoulders relaxed visibly, and she let out a soft sigh. “Oh, good. That is a relief. Though I wonder how you came by this information.”

Audrey looked down, twisting a ribbon between her fingers. “I might have overheard some of the maids talking,” she admitted.

Grace gave a gentle, if not slightly exasperated, smile. “Well, I suppose curiosity is natural at your age.”

Audrey nodded, though her stomach twisted at the thought. She hoped—yet again—that the Duke meant it when he said that theirs would be a marriage on paper only. She attempted a reassuring smile, though her nerves were frayed.

Her marriage to the Duke of Haremore was an arrangement of convenience, devoid of the complications and risks of affection. It was precisely what she wanted: a life of freedom within the respectable bounds of marriage.

Grace studied her for a moment, then reached out to take her hand. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“I am,” Audrey replied with a firm nod.

Rising gracefully, she allowed her gaze to sweep over her reflection in the tall mirror. The sight of her elegant dress, perfectly styled hair, and the heirloom pearls gleaming at her throat filled her with quiet satisfaction. She smiled to herself.

Today will be unforgettable.

Grace took her arm, and together they descended the grand staircase. At the foot of the stairs her father, George Winslow, the Earl of Stonebridge, was pacing the marble floor of the front hall. Lilianna and Clarise hovered near the door, their excitement palpable as they whispered and exchanged furtive glances.

The Earl turned sharply at the sound of footsteps, his gaze landing on Audrey and Grace. His expression was inscrutable as his eyes scanned Audrey’s form, taking in every detail of her attire.

Audrey felt a flicker of unease, her hands tightening briefly around the folds of her dress. Was that approval in his eyes, or disapproval? She could not tell.

“What took you so long?” he asked brusquely, breaking the silence.

Grace responded sweetly, her voice as smooth as silk, “It is Audrey’s wedding day, My Lord. Perfection cannot be rushed.”

He grunted, his eyes lingering on Audrey for a moment longer before he turned and strode toward the open door.

“The carriage is waiting,” he announced, before stepping outside.

Audrey drew in a measured breath, lifting her chin as she followed, her stepmother’s arm still linked with hers. Her sisters’ excited chatter and the crisp autumn air outside promised a day unlike any other.

Let it begin.

The church was everything Audrey had envisioned. Pale pink and white peony garlands were draped elegantly along the pews, their soft fragrance mingling with the cool air of the nave. The sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a golden hue on the assembled guests. Her family and closest friends were all watching as she entered on her father’s arm.

The Earl of Stonebridge walked stiffly beside her, his grip firm and perfunctory, as though this was any other duty he was obliged to perform.

Audrey kept her head up high, her steps measured. Her eyes, however, were fixed on her betrothed. The Duke of Haremore stood at the altar, his back straight, his black wavy hair catching the light. Broad shoulders and a tall, commanding figure completed the image of a man the ton would envy.

She allowed herself a private smile.

An enviable prize, indeed .

The entire room would marvel at her good fortune, and tonight, at the reception, she would bask in the admiration of everyone.

The Duke turned as she approached, and her smile widened, warm and inviting. He was handsome, strikingly so, with sharp cheekbones and the deep, earthy brown eyes she had heard so much about. But his face was unreadable, his expression as unyielding as stone.

Audrey’s steps faltered slightly, though she quickly recovered, masking her surprise.

As she came to stand beside him, she muttered under her breath, her tone light but pointed, “Do smile, Your Grace. Everyone is watching.”

His eyes flicked to hers, holding them for a long moment. No smile came. He turned away without a word, fixing his gaze on the vicar. Audrey stiffened, her hands tightening around her bouquet.

What a brute!

She exhaled slowly, reminding herself to be patient.

Perhaps he is nervous. Weddings do seem to unnerve men of a certain temperament.

The ceremony began, the vicar’s solemn voice echoing through the church. Audrey repeated her vows with poise, each word deliberate and clear. When the Duke spoke, his voice was steady, yet there was no warmth, no indication that he felt anything at all. As the vicar pronounced them man and wife, Audrey barely resisted the urge to glance at him, seeking even the slightest shift in his demeanor. None came.

When he offered her his arm, she took it, her gloved fingers resting lightly on his sleeve. Together, they walked back down the aisle, the murmurs of the guests a soft hum in the background.

“The arrangements came together beautifully,” Audrey said softly, glancing up at him. “The wedding breakfast will be a splendid affair. I took great care to ensure that everything was perfect.”

He gave an insouciant grunt, his gaze fixed ahead.

Undeterred, she continued, “Cook prepared a marvelous menu. I believe the pheasant will be particularly delightful, and the guests shall enjoy a pineapple dessert of exotic origin.”

He merely nodded, offering no further comment.

Despite his coldness, Audrey felt a thrill in her chest. She was now a duchess, and soon, all of London would see her as such—on the arm of a man admired and respected by all.

But the moment they stepped outside the church, the Duke turned to her, his face still devoid of emotion. “I have done my duty,” he said flatly, his voice cutting through the crisp air. “As promised.”

Audrey blinked, startled by his abruptness. “What do you mean?” she asked, her tone carefully controlled.

“I mean that I will now be leaving for my estate in Cumberland,” he replied. “If we are fortunate, we shall never cross paths again.”

Her hand slid from his arm to fall at her side. “What? Surely you jest.”

“I do not,” he said, his gaze unyielding. “Our arrangement was clear. You have the title, the status, and the wealth. I have fulfilled my obligation. My one condition was that we would part ways once the vows were spoken. I intend to uphold that.”

Audrey stared at him, her pulse quickening with indignation. “You cannot be serious. The reception— our reception—awaits. The ton will never let me forget it if you abandon me now.”

“I have no desire to placate the ton , ” he said sharply. “Their opinions are of no consequence to me.”

Her composure faltered, but she quickly straightened her spine. “You cannot mean to humiliate me like this.”

“This arrangement was never meant to include anything beyond what I offered,” he said, his tone as unrelenting as his gaze. “You knew that. One rule, Duchess—once we married, we would part ways. No exceptions.”

Audrey’s pride flared, the sting of his words sharp against her resolve.

She lifted her chin in defiance. “Very well, Your Grace,” she said coolly, her voice cutting like a blade. “Run off to your solitude. I dare say I shall enjoy the peace far more without you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and swept back toward the church, her dress trailing behind her like the armor of a queen. If he thought to wound her, he would find her far too proud to bleed.

And she hoped never to cross paths with him again!