Chapter 1
One
“Let the Duke Hunt begin!”
Austin leaned against a pillar near the French windows with an untouched glass of claret in his hand.
He barely lifted his head as the Dowager Duchess’s voice rang out across the vast drawing room of Greystone Park.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, fires roared in twin marble hearths, and two dozen eligible ladies, along with a handful of married ones who pretended not to be hunting, turned towards their hostess with polite smiles.
Let them hunt, He thought with lazy amusement.
No one would catch the Duke of Windemere because this time he was there to do the hunting.
He scanned the room idly and found familiar faces. Lady Amelia, in a pale blue gown, looked ravishing. Across from her stood the widowed Countess of Harrow, whose dark eyes had already found him across the room and promised recollection of certain very pleasant nights last summer.
Austin cleared his throat.
None of them will do.
“There you are, Your Grace!” The Dowager’s announcement caused all heads to swivel in his direction. “You’re not usually skulking by the windows when the Hunt begins. I swear you grow more elusive every season.”
Austin straightened, offering her his most charming smile. “Your Grace, I have decided to observe rather than participate this season. One must study the field before engaging.”
“Pish.” She rapped his shin lightly with her cane. “You have been studying the field for years and never once fired a shot. This year will be different.”
He lifted a brow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I have invited a particularly fine selection of young ladies. Several of them have already asked after you.”
“I am flattered.”
“You should be terrified.” She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.
“Lady Amelia has been practicing her curtsy for weeks. Lady Ann Fairchild’s mother has memorized your entire pedigree.
And dear Lady Harrow…” The Dowager’s gaze flicked towards the widowed countess.
“Well, she has been looking remarkably satisfied with life ever since last summer’s house party at your estate. ”
Austin’s mouth twitched. “Your powers of observation are, as always, terrifying.”
“I am old, not blind.” She patted his arm.
“But mark my words. This season, you will dance more than twice with the same lady. You will take walks in the garden without disappearing into the shrubbery with someone else’s wife.
And you will—” She paused for dramatic effect. “—consider matrimony seriously.”
He laughed softly. “You wound me. I always consider matrimony seriously. For other men.”
“Not this time.” Her expression softened, just a fraction. “You are eight-and-twenty. Handsome, wealthy, and titled. But even dukes cannot outrun time forever. And I have watched too many fine gentlemen end their days alone because they mistook freedom for happiness.”
Austin inclined his head, the amusement fading slightly. “Your concern is noted, Your Grace.”
“It is more than concern. It is determination.” She squeezed his arm. “I like you, boy. Far too much to let you waste yourself on fleeting pleasures. Somewhere in this house is a woman worthy of you. Find her.”
Before he could reply, the dowager’s attention snapped towards the doors. Her face lit with genuine delight.
“Ah! The last of my guests.”
Austin followed her gaze, where the double doors opened again, and his breath caught. His gaze landed on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Every nerve was suddenly alert.
Her reddish-brown locks fell over her pale shoulders as she maneuvered through the crowd. She was ethereal in the room full of unauthentic women, and every eye was on her.
“Who is she?” Austin asked the Dowager, but when no response came, he realized he was standing alone.
The Dowager swept through the room to greet the mysterious beauty; he watched in awe as her smile lit up the room.
He was certain that he knew every woman in this room. Married, unmarried, widowed, and wanting. He had danced with them, flirted with them, bedded more than a few. But this one…
She carried herself as though she owned the air around her.
Slim, yet unmistakably curved beneath a simple traveling gown of deep forest green that looked almost severe against the froth of pastels everywhere else.
Freckles dusted the bridge of her straight, proud nose.
And in her gloved hand, she held a small leather-bound notebook, clutched like a weapon. She looked like a woman on a mission.
He could not remember the last time a woman had walked into a room and made him forget every other female in it.
Is she married?
He was completely and utterly intrigued by her as she moved gracefully, avoiding the glances and whispers of the people around her.
“Your Grace.”
A familiar sultry voice pulled his gaze away for a moment. The Dowager Countess of Harrow had glided to his side, fan fluttering and décolletage arranged to devastating advantage.
“I had hoped you might save me from boredom this evening,” she murmured, leaning close enough that her overbearing perfume drifted over him, filling his mind instantly with the many nights of pleasure he had with her.
“My chambers are in the east wing. Third door on the left. Shall we say… midnight?”
Austin turned to her with the smile that had earned him his ridiculous nickname.
“Any other season, my lady, I would already be counting the minutes,” he said softly. “Your generosity has brightened many a dark night for me.”
“But not this season?” She pouted.
Austin shook his head regretfully. “This season I fear I will soon be off the market.”
The countess’ fan stilled. “Are you saying what I believe you’re saying?”
“You’re a smart woman; you’ll figure it out.” He winked at her.
The countess gaped and asked him loudly. “Are you… getting married?”
Heads turned again, and Austin could hear the whispers ripple outward like circles in a pond.
“Did she say married?”
“The Velvet Duke is searching for a wife?”
“Impossible!”
“Who do you suppose he will choose?”
Austin bowed with practiced elegance, his smile a perfect blend of charm and apology.
The dowager countess gave a low, knowing laugh. “Run while you can, Your Grace. We shall corner you yet.”
He inclined his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I look forward to the chase, my lady. Truly.”
And with that, Austin turned away before any other hopeful young lady or ambitious mother could tighten the circle or snare him with another invitation.
His stride carried him across the room, unhurried but purposeful, straight towards the one woman who had not tried to catch him at all.
She had not joined the swarm. Instead, she stood alone until the Dowager returned to her.
Austin stopped a few paces away, studying her profile as the Dowager whispered something in her ear.
She is familiar.
Austin knew that she was not a debutante; she carried herself with too much assurance. And yet… something about the set of her chin, the way she held her shoulders…
He took one more step.
She sensed him, and her eyes lifted and met his without a trace of flutter or blush.
Something in him tightened. Austin knew this sensation well—the moment a hunt began. And when the Dowager finally left the young woman’s side, he glided towards her.
“Good evening—” he started, but the mysterious woman suddenly whipped around and walked away.
Austin sighed loud enough to draw attention. It seemed like finding a wife was not going to be easy.
He slipped away from the ballroom, weaving through the bright chatter and rustle of silk until he reached the quieter corridor beyond.
The library was his usual escape from the claws of the hungry ladies.
A single branch of candles burned on a side table and its dim lights offered some comfort, but Austin stilled when he spotted her by a nearby shelf.
She stood on her tiptoe, trying and failing to reach a high shelf. He admired the way the firelight caught the reddish glints in her hair. Then he stepped inside and closed the door with a soft click.
“Escaping the fray as well, I see,” he broke the silence. “Or are you hunting for something more dangerous than husbands?”
She turned smoothly, notebook in hand, and he spotted a hint of green in her piercing eyes. If she was startled by his presence, she hid it well. There was no start of alarm and no maidenly gasp, only a faint, knowing smile.
“Your Grace,” she said, dipping the shallowest of curtsies. “It is good to see you again. And timely. I could use your help.”
He arched a brow, leaning against a nearby table with deliberate ease.
“Again? Have we met then? Because I am certain I would remember a woman who greets a notorious bachelor in a darkened library without a chaperone in sight.” For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed his mind that he might have bedded her in some forgotten interlude of his past; yet he dismissed it at once.
A woman like her was not the sort a man ever forgot.
Her smile widened, a touch wry. “Oh, we have met. Many times. Though I was considerably shorter and less interesting then.”
He tilted his head, studying her openly. “You intrigue me. Most young ladies would be fluttering for their vinaigrettes by now.”
“I am hardly a young lady,” she replied, setting the book aside. “And I have no intention of marrying, ever, so your reputation poses no threat to me.”
Austin felt slightly disappointed.
“Then we are perfectly matched for an evening’s conversation,” he murmured, stepping closer. “But you said you needed help. What service may the Duke of Windemere render?”
She hesitated for only a moment, then lifted her chin. “I am… compiling information on certain scandalous lords of the ton. With an eye towards publishing it, anonymously, you understand. A cautionary volume for innocent debutantes.”
He laughed softly, genuinely delighted. “A lady pamphleteer of vice? My lady, you grow more fascinating by the minute. And you wish my contribution?”
“Discreetly, yes. You move in circles, I do not. I am sure that you hear things.” Her gaze sharpened. “For instance, there is a gentleman known as the Wolf Duke. I’ve heard whispers of his exploits, but nothing concrete enough for print.”
Austin folded his arms, letting his voice drop to a conspiratorial drawl. “The Wolf Duke. He was a silent seducer, or so they used to say. That was until he married. Before his darling wife entered his life, he was always a bit of a… mysterious fellow.”
“Exactly,” she said, leaning in toward him. “If you know anything of his secrets, anything beyond gossip, I should like to hear it.”
Austin grinned. This was far easier than he had imagined. A woman investigating a scandal, alone with him, asking about alter egos? She was practically inviting seduction.
“I might know a detail or two,” he said, closing the distance until only the width of a book table separated them. “But information of that sort comes at a price.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was laughter in them. “I am not in the habit of paying with coin, or anything else.”
“Pity,” he murmured. “Though conversation might suffice. Tell me, what drives a beautiful woman to chronicle the sins of dukes rather than secure one for herself?”
She gave a soft huff of laughter. “As you well know, I have no interest in securing any man. I have seen what marriage offers women who stray even an inch from perfection.”
He frowned slightly.
As I well know? What the devil did she mean by that?
“You speak as though we are old confidants,” he said carefully.
Her brows lifted. “We are. Or at least, we were acquainted before I left England. You used to visit Greystone often, ride out with Dominic, lose spectacularly at cards, and tease the kitchen maids until the cook chased you with a rolling pin.”
Austin searched her face again. Her freckles, green eyes, and that stubborn set to her mouth. A memory tugged, distant and hazy: a skinny girl with red curls hiding behind her brother’s coattails, glaring at him whenever he greeted her.
“No. Impossible.” He shook his head and chuckled.
She watched the realization begin to dawn on his face and sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused.
“Do you truly not recognize your best friend’s sister?”
The words landed like a bucket of freezing water.
Deena Archdall.
Dominic’s little sister who had been packed off to Paris after a scandal at her debut. The one he had barely noticed before she vanished. Austin exhaled slowly, every careful plan for seduction scattered like cards in the wind.
“Dee?” he said at last, voice rougher than he intended. “God. You’ve changed.”
Her smile turned sharp. “So have you, apparently. I thought you, of all people, would know me at once. And you cannot call me that anymore. I am not a child.”
He ran his hand through his hair, laughing despite himself. “I apologize, Lady Dee, I thought you were some bold adventurer come to expose us all. Not… Dominic’s sister.”
“And now that you know?” she asked, tilting her head. “Does that change the price of your information?”
Austin met her gaze; the spark between them suddenly became far more complicated than simple desire.
“It changes everything,” he said quietly.