The Duke’s Spinster (Duke Dare #1)

Chapter One

T his is what it must feel like to be drunk. If not drunk, exactly, then definitely a little…tingly. Lady Boudicca had never been drunk before, but surely, this fuzzy feeling must be part of it. There must have been something in the tepid lemonade because, of all the four sisters in the Rochester clan, Boudicca would never have taken a drink of her own volition.

Artemisia, her youngest sister? Yes. The third youngest, Joan? Probably. Zenobia, second in line? Probably not. Boudicca? Definitely not. And they all knew it.

It was one of the reasons why she could almost be their chaperone. That, and she was six-and-twenty years of age now. A veritable spinster. Men hadn’t cast glances at her since, well, since she’d been shelved at the ripe old age of three-and-twenty. And they still weren’t looking tonight.

“Nobi, stop ogling Christopher,” Joan nudged her sister. “You do realize that you’re not discreet about it.”

Zenobia blushed.

“She can’t help it. She’s in love,” Artemisia drawled the last word as only the baby of the family could do.

Boudicca took another sip of the bland lemonade.

“You do realize that the lemonade is spiked, Bodi.” Artemisia held up her glass and gulped it down.

Blame the drink or her bad mood, but Boudicca did not hold herself responsible for her petulant response, “Don’t call me that ridiculous name. There are no ladies with such a vulgar name.”

“There are no ladies with our names at all. Blame our parents for that one.”

“It was mostly Father. What with his love for battle strategy. Do you really believe Mother would have chosen these warrior names for her dainty daughters?” Dainty would have sounded sarcastic if it hadn’t dripped from Joan’s lips.

“Just let her be, Mimi. Bodi—I mean Boudicca—is obviously in a poor temperament.” Zenobia patted Boudicca’s forearm and gave each of the bookended sisters a knowing glance.

“You’re right.” Artemisia smiled. “But just because you’re happily in love, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

The red in Zenobia’s cheeks returned. “I wouldn’t quite say happy . Or love .”

Artemisia blew a raspberry with her lips.

“Mimi,” Boudicca hissed.

“Please. She’s halfway down the aisle.” If they hadn’t been in a ballroom, Boudicca would have expected Artemisia to stick out her tongue. Never mind, they were in a ballroom, and Mimi still managed to stick out her tongue.

Zenobia shook her head. “There won’t be any aisle.”

“Well, not if you don’t make a move. He’s too slow to see—”

“He’s not slow.”

“All right, he’s too…much of a man”—Artemisia eyed Zenobia for approval on her verbal amendment—“to notice you pining after him. You’re going to have to be the one who makes the first move.”

Zenobia scoffed. “That’s never going to happen.”

“You can’t be timid. This is your life, Zenobia, you have to do something.”

Boudicca had heard it all before. It was no secret that Zenobia was in love with their brother’s best friend, Christopher, the Duke of Saxby. But, as with all the times before, she was too much of a lady to do anything about it.

“She’s right, Nobi.” Joan was huddling the sisters. “This is your life. Don’t you want to be married to him?”

Zenobia chewed on her bottom lip. “I do.” She took a sip of lemonade, which, Boudicca realized now she should be denying her sisters. “But I don’t see how that’s going to happen.”

“It’s easy.” Artemisia stood, battle ready. She could have had one hand waving a tribe flag in the air, or raising a spear, or blowing a trumpet. Thankfully no said props were readily at hand. “I dare you to tell him how you feel.”

Zenobia gasped. “I couldn’t.”

“What are we, twelve?” Boudicca had to step in. This was moving past ridiculous into scandalous.

“I said what I said.” Artemisia crossed her arms and glared at Zenobia. “And we’ve never balked at a dare.”

“They’ve never been this…this…”

“Important?” Artemisia supplied.

“Scandalous,” Boudicca countered.

“Risk not, gain not.” May as well have been embroidered on Mimi’s flag.

“Who are you, Mimi? Or maybe I should be asking, what’s gotten into you tonight?” Boudicca held up the lemonade.

“Call it spirits, but I call it the truth.” She turned to Zenobia. “You know you need to do something.”

And then, right before her eyes, Boudicca watched a veil lift from Nobi’s eyes.

“I’ll do it,” Zenobia’s face hardened. “But—” she lifted her finger and pointed at the other three. “I’ll not do it alone. I dare each of you to claim your own duke as well.” Where were flags when one needed them?

“What?” Boudicca’s heart banged against her chest. Once. Hard. She thought it was done. It was not. The banging banged again in a rhythm she had never heard banged out before.

Artemisia laughed. “I’m in. If that’s what it’ll take for you to claim the love of your life, then I’m in.” Boudicca thought she saw something flash across Mimi’s face, but she couldn’t decipher it.

Zenobia pointed at Joan, “You’ve been quiet. Are you in? If I tell Christopher how I feel, will you follow through on my dare?”

Joan shrugged her shoulders, but her shoulders didn’t even have time to drop before Artemisia clamored in, saying, “She’s in too.” She peered at Boudicca. “And Bodi’s in too.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You out of all us need a duke the most. In fact, you’re going first.”

“I don’t need a duke.”

“Everyone needs a duke,” Artemisia laughed.

“I’m a spinster. You three go ahead with this silly dare. I’m the chaperone.” Boudicca was about to cross her arms and then remembered where they were.

“Oh no. You’re not sitting out on this one. This is your life too. You deserve to be happy.” Artemisia wasn’t backing down.

“Marrying a duke does not guarantee happiness.”

“Not marrying a duke doesn’t guarantee happiness either.”

Trust the youngest to apply that kind of logic.

“Bodi, I think you should do it.” Joan intervened. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

That stung.

She knew Joan wasn’t being intentionally mean. Joan, of all her sisters, was kindness personified. But still, hearing those words pierced through a layer of her heart she thought she had closed off.

She was a spinster. She had accepted it. But to hear the words that she had nothing to lose sounded as if she had already lost.

Well, she hadn’t lost. Yet. Besides, if she was going first, and she failed, then maybe none of them would go ahead with the silly dares.

Not following through on the dares would make chaperoning easier.

*

Another night. Another crush. Another failure.

Wesley, the Duke of Baskim, had just finished dancing with a diamond of the first water. And he had already forgotten her name. To be honest, he wasn’t paying attention to much of the ballroom either. It looked like every other one he’d been to. Candle lights in sconces. Fresh flowers—roses, he could see that much—in enormous bouquets. Footmen hurrying trays about. It was just another ball. And it was nice. But nothing to notice.

“What was wrong with that one?” Samuel eyed the blonde he had just danced with. At least, he thought it was the same woman.

“She had nothing to say.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

“You may not need conversation in your future, but I’d like to have some kind of stimulation. I think Chris and James would back me up on that one. No?”

“I want conversation. Actually, I even think it’d be ideal to marry my best friend.” Chris murmured the last phrase, “If that were possible.”

“Conversation sounds great. Not as great as some other things though.” James grinned.

“Thank you, Chris.” Wesley tilted his head at one of his friends.

“All I’m saying is that you find something wrong with every woman you meet. You just need to pick one, and get an heir. Society may think you’re Adonis incarnate, but you’re the oldest of all of us.” Samuel rocked back and forth on his heels.

“I’m not even halfway through my thirties. I have time.”

“Hardly.”

But truth be told, Wesley was starting to feel slight tremors of desperation. Of all the ladies he had met, not a single one had captured his attention for more than a dance. Perhaps it was time to just make a choice. He had had enough of women flocking to his good locks and deep pockets.

“If you know the ladies so well, why don’t you just choose one for me?” It was an impulsive thing to say, but Wesley said it anyway.

Samuel rubbed his hands together. “Now, there’s the best idea you’ve had all night. Indeed, quite possibly the best idea you’ve ever had. You’re too damn picky. If my recollection serves, you haven’t given a single lady a second chance. The three of us can most certainly do a better job on your love life than you.”

“Not my love life, just my married life.” Wesley was irritated. Samuel would make this a competition. Everything was a competition with him. Often Wesley won. Then again, often Samuel won. So really, it was an ongoing, never-ending battle between them.

Wesley watched as Samuel’s eyes scanned the ballroom. And he watched as they landed on another diamond in the water a few feet away from him. A brunette. This time, although he didn’t remember the name, he remembered that she was secretly promised to another duke. He hadn’t inquired so much as she had told him. With the obvious intent to (unnecessarily) ward off any further advances from him. Amused at the memory, Wesley felt his spirits lift.

Knowing any initiatives with her wouldn’t last, he felt pity (or was it glee), and figured he may as well give his opponent a shot.

“You have to propose to the next lady you bump into.”

“I’m not going to propose to some random lady of your choosing tonight.”

Samuel hadn’t taken his eyes off of the brunette. “Not tonight. Tonight you dance. Then you finally give a woman a second chance: you court. Then you propose. If she refuses you…then…”

“Then what?”

“I guess you win this one.”

“Those stakes are awfully high. And one-sided. What do I get if I win?”

Samuel lowered his voice and stated his stakes.

Chris and James, who had otherwise only been listening, gasped. “What? Why would you do that?”

“I like a good bet. And I like to win,” Samuel shrugged.

The bet was preposterous. There was no good reason Samuel would bet that . Was there?

It also seemed too easy. Wesley weighed the risks in his mind. He knew the brunette would say no. He knew he would win. Really, he had nothing to lose.

So, with the odds obviously in his favor, Wesley shook Samuel’s hand.