Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
London, Grosvenor Square
Aurelia hurried through the grand rooms of the house until she reached the duchess’s sitting room, a space that in ordinary cases might have been a peaceful area.
The duchess had never known peace. In another life, she might have been a general, standing stiff-backed before her army. In this household, she ruled with a rod of iron, and when Aurelia came upon her, she sat before the fire with her cane in one hand, her narrowed eyes fixed on the door.
Aurelia almost stumbled at the sight. She jumped to a halt and dipped into a curtsy. Her hands shook, and she buried them in her skirts.
“You summoned me, ma’am,” she managed in a shaking voice.
The duchess clacked her cane against the ground. “I did. Can you tell me what you have done to incur my wrath?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Insolent!” The duchess rose, her eyes flashing fire. “Think again. What took place when my nephew visited?”
Aurelia’s stomach dropped into her shoes. Lord Redwood, the duchess’s nephew and the apple of her aging eye, had thought himself at liberty to grope and paw at her as though she were not his aunt’s companion but a lady of the night.
Aurelia had resisted, and evidently, he had run to his aunt with stories of how unobliging she was.
Hateful man.
She couldn’t say that, of course, so she merely cast her gaze at the floor. “I don’t understand what Your Grace is meaning.”
“Is that so?” The duchess clicked her tongue. “I’m disappointed in you, Miss Dufort. I had thought, after taking you in when your mother died, that you would treat my household with more respect.”
“I—”
“Instead, you attempted to seduce Lord Redwood in my own home. Imagine my shock when he informed me of your betrayal. Attempting to ruin yourself in the hopes of him marrying you, no doubt. As though a man of my blood—and an earl, at that—would ever commit himself to a shameless hussy like you!”
A carriage clock ticked obnoxiously loudly on the mantelpiece, and Aurelia squeezed her jaw shut so tightly, it ached. If she called Lord Redwood out for his lies now, the duchess would never believe her.
So much for her home and mode of employment. She knew where this was going.
“But, Your Grace,” she tried, measuring each word, “I—”
“I will not hear your excuses!” She bashed her cane against the floor again, and Aurelia recoiled physically. The hard metal end had never been used on her, but there was always a first time. “If you cannot admit to it, then say nothing at all!”
All the indignities Aurelia had endured, all to secure a place in a prestigious household that would pay her a small amount and offer food and board. All this, and for the most basic securities. Aurelia wished she could throw it back in the duchess’s face—but if she did that, where would she go?
She had nowhere to go. No family to receive her, no home to retreat to.
And so, she cast her dignity to the wind as she fell to her knees and clasped her hands together. “I would never disrespect you in your own home, ma’am. Please believe me. I—”
“Stand up, girl.” The duchess huffed, her grip tightening on her cane.
“You ought to have known better, given your position. If you had merely done what I asked of you and kept your head down, I would have allowed you to stay. But I will not countenance this.” She tapped her cane against the carpet.
“You have an hour to collect your things and get out.”
Aurelia’s fingers trembled. “Please—”
“Leave.”
Aurelia’s amenity to humiliating herself came to an abrupt end, and she rose, dusting off her skirts. No amount of begging would restore her position, so she gave up on the attempt.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said flatly. Then, because the duchess would never give her a good reference regardless, she added, “Your nephew is a boorish pig, and he has no right to attempt to seduce the help, then complain about her licentiousness when it fails miserably.” She bobbed an ironic curtsy and left the room, ignoring the duchess’s spluttering fury.
Without looking back, she strode along the hallway, anger and determination alive in her chest.
She would find something else. When her mother and uncle had died, she had not despaired; she would not despair now.
A gentleman stepped in her way. Lord Redwood, leering down at her from his position of privilege. His hand snaked out to grip her elbow. “Scared, little mouse?”
Aurelia wrenched her arm free. Now that she had been dismissed, what did a little incivility hurt?
“Do not touch me,” she snapped, loudly enough for a passing footman to raise his head. If Lord Redwood were to force her, the footman would do nothing, but the servants would talk. Servants always did. “If you do, I’ll scratch your eyes, you see if I don’t.”
“Now then, Miss—”
Without waiting for him to say another word, she strode through a servants’ door and down through the servants’ quarters. To her relief, he didn’t follow, and she was left to gather what little remained of her dignity, along with the rest of her possessions, and leave.
A carpet bag under one arm, Aurelia made her way out of the servants’ door in the side of the house.
The first thing she ought to do, with what little she had, was to place an advertisement in the paper.
For a lady’s companion, perhaps. Or a governess.
Perhaps there might already be a placement she could apply to—so long as the duchess didn’t poison the well against her.
That theory seemed hopeless.
As she made it to the main street, where the facade of the grand house stared down at her, a carriage came to a halt beside the front door. She spared it half a glance, noting the well-sprung, plain black carriage, bare of any coat of arms.
She would have paid as little attention to the older gentleman stepping out, too, had he not seen her and done a double take.
“Excuse me,” he called after her, glancing from her face to the grand house. “Are you by any chance Miss Dufort?”
Pausing, Aurelia took in his appearance. He was perhaps in his fifties, gray playing through his hair and a pair of spectacles perched firmly on his nose. Although he dressed well, it was obvious he was not of nobility.
She could not relax. What would any man want to do with her?
She hugged her carpet bag to her chest. “Who inquires?”
Immediately, he snapped to attention. He inclined his head, giving her a kindly, fatherly smile. “My name is Mr. Arnold, the solicitor to the Duke of Ravenhall. I came here to bid Her Grace to give me an interview with you, but I see I am fortunate enough to find you independently.”
“I no longer live in Her Grace’s household.” As of an hour ago, if that. Still, it was her reality. “Why do you care to speak with me? I have never met the Duke of Ravenhall.”
“No, indeed. Ah—” Mr. Arnold leaned into the carriage and retrieved a letter sealed with red wax and the unmistakable Ravenhall crest. “Would you be so polite as to accompany me?”
One glance at the seal dispelled any lingering suspicion. Although Aurelia had spent little time in fashionable London, through her time in the Duchess of Fenwick’s household, she had come to be aware of many members of the nobility.
The Duke of Ravenhall, she had never met personally, but she had seen correspondence bearing his seal. As a member of one of the oldest and most influential families of the ton, Aurelia knew the duchess had been trying to ingratiate herself with him some more.
“I assure you I mean you no harm,” Mr. Arnold coaxed when she still hesitated, staring at the letter as though it would bite her. “In fact, my proposition would change your fortune exceedingly.”
She raised her gaze to his face. “And what is your proposition?”
He smiled reassuringly at her, as though his smile alone could banish any fears she might have.
And perhaps they might have done—the duke had chosen his solicitor well.
The man was charming in a very understated, non-threatening way, and he exuded a sense of calm control.
In a world where everything felt increasingly out of her control, Aurelia found herself wanting to believe he could fix all her problems with a magical wave of his wand.
Then he said the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her entire life.
“The duke proposes that you accept his hand in marriage and become his wife.”