The Enemy Duke and the Widow Duchess

Chapter 1

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Lavinia had never been worried about her life before her father announced her engagement.

As the daughter of a baron, her place in society had been secured, with less of the scrutiny that she had often seen other ladies and duchesses experience.

With long, brown hair and hazel eyes, her appearance had attracted the eye of two suitors before she turned twenty.

After that, however, her parents had started to become worried that she would become a spinster. Marrying had never been her priority, love and freedom had. She used to imagine, on quiet nights after her sister was asleep and her parents went to bed, a marriage built on something warm.

She wondered if such a marriage truly existed outside the pages of a novel, or if her mind was leading her down the path of foolishness. Still, some part of her had hoped she could have a good marriage.

Then, she met the duke.

He was a tall man, with thick arms and sturdy legs.

Lavinia wondered if he had once been a boxer, or some other kind of athlete.

A kind known for strength, but not endurance.

Something about the shimmer of sweat on his brow, even in the cool parlor, did not bring thoughts of health and stamina to mind.

He was well dressed, but it did not make his appearance any less intimidating. His icy-gray eyes had looked her up and down as if he had been assessing a horse.

“This is to be your groom,” her father, Baron Fenwick said bluntly after they were introduced.

“Father, I do not wish to marry him,” she replied firmly.

“It will be a good marriage.” He added a touch of warmth to his voice. Lavinia had felt uneasy, but she had pushed it aside, assuming her father knew best. How she wished she had pushed harder for her concerns to be heard.

It was two days before the wedding. The study in the Fenwick estate had never felt so cold and claustrophobic. Her father’s study had always been a serious room, but never like that.

Lavinia was sitting next to her father, wringing her hands, as he and the Duke of Alderwick discussed the marriage contract.

Lavinia’s father was sitting tall, his fingers drumming on the table.

The curtains had been drawn, a shaft of light cutting through the room.

Suddenly, the Duke of Alderwick laughed. Lavinia grimaced.

“Do you really believe her dowry should be so little?” the duke smirked.

“I can increase the dowry by one hundred pounds,” her father said dryly.

“Is that all?” the duke snorted. “It feels as if you are not seriously concerned for your daughter’s well-being.”

Lavinia looked up at her father. His dark eyes flicked back down toward the contract and then back up to the duke.

“Three hundred can be added,” he decided. She could see his teeth clenching and a muscle ticking in his forehead.

“That is better,” the duke grinned. “And is your daughter ready for her duties as my wife?”

“Of course she is,” her father replied. Lavinia frowned.

“Excellent. She is expected to bring me healthy heirs. As many as she can. Boys if possible.”

“She will do that.”

“And she is expected to act with utmost decorum and conduct herself in a manner befitting a duchess,” the duke chuckled.

“Of course,” the baron agreed.

“Excellent.”

“How many—” Lavinia started, but the duke held up a hand to silence her.

“I wish to have an intelligent conversation right now,” the duke said, looking at her. “That means you stay quiet.”

His words shot through her and her heart sank. She looked at her father. His eyes were narrowed with contempt. She nodded slowly and looked down at her hands.

“I apologize,” she whispered.

“I said,” the duke snapped. “Quiet.”

Lavinia tensed, feeling tears in her eyes, but she did not dare acknowledge them.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” her father asked, leaning back in his seat.

“I do not believe so. Have you finished the church preparations?”

“Of course. The church is prepared; the wedding breakfast will be at Briarwood Hall, as we agreed.”

“Good,” the duke said. “My estate is all set. It would seem there is nothing else to discuss.”.. “I will have the solicitor send the adjusted and signed documents tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” the baron said. Lavinia watched the door of the office swing as the duke left.

“Father,” she whispered, finally looking up. “I am begging you, please, do not allow this engagement to continue. I do not wish to live my life with… With… Him!”

The baron grabbed her wrist. “Suppress such outbursts,” he hissed at her. “The Duke of Alderwick is known for his temper. He will not tolerate your childish temperament.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You are treating me as cattle, not a daughter. You are selling me off so you can increase your standing, not for my happiness.”

“Watch your tongue,” he growled. “You are doing this for your sisters and your family, not for your own selfish heart.”

“I am not the selfish one,” she said, standing quickly. Her chair scraped backward and almost fell over. Lavinia turned toward the door and froze. Her little sister, Cecily was standing in the doorway, her large brown eyes were wide and glossy with tears.

She wore her best pink dress, her blonde hair pinned well; the house had intended for both of them to look their best for the duke. The nineteen-year-old girl was pale, trembling, and clinging to the doorframe. Lavinia’s heart sank. She ran to her sister and pulled her tightly against her chest.

“I will never let anyone force you to go through this,” Lavinia whispered into her sister’s hair.

“I am not worried about myself,” Cecily whispered, hiccupping, tears in her eyes. “I am worried about you.”

Lavinia’s breath hitched. She held Cecily a little tighter.

“I will be fine,” Lavinia whispered. “I promise. I will survive this marriage.”

Even as she spoke, she was not sure that she believed her words.

***

The day of the wedding arrived, and Lavinia was being pulled into her dress. The maids had been instructed to tight lace the stays to ensure that Lavinia fit perfectly inside the dress that the duke had chosen for her. The maids struggled, but soon, the vile thing was on her body.

Lavinia looked in the mirror. The dress was dreadful.

The neck came up much too high; the off-white silk and silver decorations did not suit her and the lace which seemed to have been fashionable a decade earlier made her look far older than her age of twenty-four.

She glanced down at the silver sequins sewn into the sleeves.

He is trying to show his wealth, put himself next to royalty… But it makes me look sickly.

She tried to take a deep breath, but the restrictive fabric made that difficult. Tears blurred her vision.

I look as if I am being prepared for burial. I am pale enough to be dead…

“It is time,” her father said from the doorway. She nodded but could not look at him. He took her arm and began walking her toward the carriage.

The two of them were silent for the journey. Lavinia was more focused on her breathing as opposed to being a polite young lady. Her father seemed to have no interest in conversation either.

Finally, they arrived at the church, and he helped her out of the carriage. As they entered, the faces of all of their guests turned toward them. The duke’s relatives and friends seemed jovial, grinning widely. Most of Lavinia’s relatives were the same.

They knew that it was an advantageous marriage. The only ones who looked concerned were her friends and her sister. Two of her friends exchanged worried glances. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them, and Honora shook her head. Temperance’s shoulders sagged, and she sat back in the pew.

Lavinia’s eyes reluctantly went to the front of the church.

Standing there, a smug smile adorning his face, was the duke.

She slowly walked down the aisle. Once next to him, the duke put a possessive arm around her, and nausea rolled through her stomach.

The priest began to speak, but she did not listen to a word.

She managed to say her vows when they were needed, though she did not look at anything but the stone floor.

Eventually, the priest finished, and the duke pulled her close, moving her chin so she looked up at him.

Their lips met. He tasted of tobacco and port.

Bitter. She did her best not to look disgusted as he pulled back.

Rice was thrown over the newlyweds as they turned to leave.

Lavinia’s eyes met the stone relief of the crucifix above the doors of the church.

Please. If you can hear me, save me from this wretched man.

***

Briarwood Hall was a stark building, with tall columns made of gray stone decorating equally gray walls. The windows were tall, allowing the cold light to stream into the empty rooms. Lavinia looked up as the celebration happened around her on the lawn.

The wedding breakfast passed in a blur of laughter, food, and wine. Lavinia dared not partake in much of it. The nausea of the day still had not left her. Eventually, she was able to leave early, claiming a headache and a need to prepare for her groom.

As soon as she was alone in her new chambers, she all but tore off the dress.

The pale fabric seemed to shimmer against the dark orange floor.

Orange wallpaper embossed with flowers and leaves stretched around her.

Tallow candles in sconces threw long shadows over the room.

She knew he could afford better. He had chosen not to spend generously on her.

As if I could not hate my home all the more.