The Duchess Curse (Alchemy of Desire #3)

Prologue

THE CURSE

Gabriella Guinevere Pottinger wore black to meet her future husband. She stood behind her mama and stared at the man who seemed more sad than scary. He had big, watery eyes and a friendly mouth that lifted up at the edges as he knelt so they were closer to the same size.

“Lady Gabriella.” His voice was lilting and friendly. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Gabriella dropped a curtsy, the perfect one she’d practiced with her mama, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice.

When she didn’t respond, the man—Edward Cunning, the Marquess of Handsford—stood and looked to her mama. “She’s not… mute, is she?” he asked with some hesitance.

“Oh heavens, no!” Mama laughed and grasped Gabriella’s shoulders, pushed her toward the marquess. “She’s simply shy. You understand. Not yet eleven and meeting her husband. She’ll become accustomed to the idea.”

The marquess shifted from foot to foot, and the old floorboards of his home—the kind of sprawling castle Gabriella had thought only existed in stories—creaked.

“You do understand, we’re not… I’ll not marry her yet.

She may stay here, as I live in London most of the time, but I have no use for a child wife.

In ten or so years, I’ll be happy for the connection, but—”

“You may discuss such arrangements with my husband. We simply want what is best for our daughter, and she’ll never find a match so grand as you, not now and not in a decade when she is ready to take on a wife’s duties.”

“Still… It is unusual. She should live with you until she is of age.”

“No. This is the Pottinger custom. Once a marriage is legally arranged, the future bride belongs to her husband. And your house is suitably isolated.”

He looked about the cold parlor. “Yes, well, that cannot be good for one so young.”

“It’s perfect for a Pottinger.”

He nodded. He must have realized what Gabriella knew well—once her mother had made up her mind there was no use arguing. He offered one more smile to Gabriella, then left them alone without even a goodbye.

Mama swung Gabriella onto a low sofa as soon as the door shut. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ll ruin everything!”

“I don’t want to live here.” The house at Handsford was huge and gray and dark, nothing like her old, sunny, rambling home near Brighton. “I want to live with you and Papa.”

“This is for your own good, Gabriella. In a place like this, you’ll be all alone.

No temptations.” Her mother was pacing now, wringing her hands.

“If I’d known about the curse, I never would have married your father.

Forgive me, darling.” She hit her knees in front of Gabriella, laying her heavy head in Gabriella’s lap, and sobbing, said, “Please forgive me.”

Gabriella let her cry, smoothing back her yellow hair. It never took long for mother to recover, and soon she was drying her eyes and standing tall once more.

“It is not ideal,” she said. “I wanted to wait until you were older, but with Magdalena’s death…

” Mama smoothed her black skirts, inhaled as if the air gave her courage.

“Your father’s sister knew better, Gabriella.

Every woman in your father’s family who’s fallen in love dies early. One year. Married for one year!”

“They loved each other.” And had been buried beside one another. Uncle Henrick had gone first, and without her husband, Aunt Magdalena had, well… Gabriella wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. Mama had cried and Papa had called it the curse.

“Listen closely, Gabriella. If your aunt had accepted an arranged marriage to Handsford, she never would have met Henrick. But she disregarded her family duty and followed her heart all the way to the grave. I know you do not want to be here. But it is the safest place for you. No young people. No society. No one to fall in love with. Only servants and an elderly husband who was handpicked for you. Living, surviving, is more important than loving. And the only sure means of survival for a Pottinger is cold indifference and an arranged marriage. Do you understand?” When Gabriella didn’t answer, her mother shook her. “Answer me!”

“Yes, yes. Of course. Living is better than loving.” No other answer to give, and her heart told her the truth of it, too.

She’d loved Aunt Magdalena and Uncle Henrick.

It hurt to lose them. Sometimes she cried at night when no one would hear her because she’d never again feel her aunt’s fingertips pushing hair off Gabriella’s forehead or see her mischievous smile as she handed Gabby another biscuit when she knew she shouldn’t.

Her mother backed toward the door. “Hopefully this situation, your father’s contractual promise to Handsford, will keep you safe. Alive. Now be a good girl. Do as you’re told, be quiet as you can, never fall in love, and never speak of the curse. Do you understand?”

“But why?”

“Do not!” Her mother’s voice bounced off the walls, and Gabby curled into herself, as if she could create a hard shell to hide within. Her mother stroked her hair. There was an apology in her watery eyes. “And remember…” Her lips trembled. “Remember I… I love you.” She spun and quit the room.

Leaving Gabriella alone. And terrified that if she ever fell in love, her husband would end up like Uncle Henrick—dead within a year—and she’d want to be like her aunt and follow him to the grave.