The Wicked Duke’s Wallflower (Duke Hunt #4)
Chapter 1
One
“Don’t look now,” Blanche’s sister whispered. “Lord Bromley is coming.”
“Oh, bleeding hells,” Blanche muttered, eyes searching the crowd for an escape route.
Normally, the Dowager Duchess of Greystone’s annual house party was the height of elegance, a week-long tactical maneuver famously known as the Duke Hunt. But to Blanche, as she surveyed the sprawling ballroom of the Greystone estate, it felt more like being a cornered fox.
Lord Bromley was simply unbearable—he had quickly become known among the ton for his drinking and presumptuousness, character traits of which Blanche, in particular, found appalling.
“It is only one dance,” Fanny said softly, taking Blanche’s hands affectionately.
“Just one, and then you can go back to daydreaming about the heroes in your novels. You know the Dowager is watching; she’s already matched so many couples.
First her grandson, then your dear friend Christine, and only last season, her granddaughter was caught in the Dowager’s net.
You wouldn’t want to be the first failure of the Duke Hunt, would you? ”
The mention of her friend’s marriage—another “trophy” in the Dowager’s perfect record—visibly flushed Blanche, while her sister’s mischievous giggle echoed behind her as she disappeared from the room.
“Lady Blanche,” the viscount pronounced. “Will you do me the honor of the next dance?”.
“I don’t believe my dance card is free for this number, my Lord,” she triple-checked her empty dance card, which he managed to see as well, and smiled.
“Lucky me,” he said with a sneer, and extended a hand toward her. She took it reluctantly, trembling with anxiety.
As soon as Blanche—still flushed—faced him on the dance floor, the man took the liberty of asserting, “I must say I am flattered that you feel nervous in my presence, I—”
“Oh, it’s just that I’m feeling quite hot,” Blanche cut him off immediately.
“Yes, you do look lovely tonight, Lady Blanche. Enough, at least, to have attracted my attention.”
Am I to take that as a compliment?
“I did not know that you took any interest in me,” she admitted, successfully concealing almost any displeasure in her voice.
“I didn’t,” admitted the viscount, lifting his face proudly, which was of no benefit to him, for from this perspective, the hollows forming in his vain attempt at a beard were much more evident. “But lately, I’ve found myself entertaining the notion of giving even you some consideration…”
“Oh, really?” Blanche was about to let out a sarcastic chuckle, but restrained herself. “And to what do I owe the honor of this sudden change of heart? Has the Dowager Duchess whispered my name in your ear as a potential target for your ‘hunt’?”
“Why, to your good fortune,” the viscount replied smoothly, with the smugness of a man who believed himself generous. “I have been considering certain noble ladies to offer them the honor of my hand in marriage. And naturally, you have come to mind.”
Oh, no… No, no, no…
“Such honor must be taken with caution, my Lord. I hope you will make your decision wisely.”
“Indeed,” affirmed the viscount, who seemed satisfied with Blanche’s consideration, not quite noticing that she was merely being sarcastic and coldly polite.
“It is a matter I must consider delicately. My good reputation has won me the affection of certain noble families who wish to see their daughters well married. Though of course, I will not mention their names, out of respect for the ladies.”
“Of course.” Blanche nodded, feigning seriousness, or at least trying to. “You are a very thoughtful man, Lord Bromley,” she replied, anxious to be rid of the tedious conversation.
“So, I have decided that it is not only beauty or charm that should dictate my interests in choosing a worthy partner, for I need a well-bred and submissive lady who will recognize my greatness…”
“In which case, I am sure you will find a—”
“Please, Lady Blanche, allow me to finish,” interrupted the viscount, halting abruptly in the middle of the room, drawing not only the attention of the ton’s most curious ladies but also causing Blanche to blush visibly.
The viscount’s hand clutched Blanche’s tightly as he paused after the dance was over, and he pulled her to a slightly more secluded corner of the room.
To Blanche’s fortune, it was not far from where they had been previously, so she could still see her family a few paces ahead.
She tried to catch her sister’s eye to seek help, but Fanny was, at that very moment, being courted by a handsome young man, to whom their mother was offering coquettish smiles without pause.
Only her father seemed truly aware of what was transpiring between Blanche and the viscount; yet, to her surprise and dismay, the Earl of Gooldwer did not appear particularly inclined to assist his eldest daughter. Thus, Blanche had to face the viscount alone.
“I daresay you are neither the fairest nor the most charming lady of the ton, nor does your family possess an unblemished reputation—for your father has been entangled in a few rumors that… well. Nonetheless, it suffices for me to know your rank in society makes you a most suitable match.”
“Lord Bromley, truly, I must thank you for your interest, but—”
“And it is for that reason that, on this grand evening, I offer you the honor of becoming my wife—”
“—I must decline your offer,” Blanche concluded, just as the viscount finished his proposal.
For a moment, they stared at one another, caught in a silence that spanned from awkwardness to sheer bewilderment.
Of the two, it was the viscount who recovered first, letting out a smug and self-satisfied chuckle that deeply irritated Blanche.
“Your father did not jest when he claimed you possessed a sense of humor, Lady Blanche, for I must assume you are not truly serious in rejecting my proposal.”
“I can assure you that I am quite serious, Lord Bromley,” Blanche said, drawing a deep breath and stepping slightly away from the viscount. “I am most grateful for your interest, my Lord, but I must reiterate my refusal to become your wife.”
“But do you even comprehend what you are saying?” the viscount asked, slightly affronted.
“You must be aware that a woman such as yourself, now in her fifth Season, has been granted a great honor in being deemed eligible by me. The Dowager Duchess of Greystone herself would tell you that you are squandering a miracle.”
“Well, since you put it that way, then I find myself compelled to decline such an honor.” Blanche had grown increasingly irritated and took another step away from him.
The viscount, who also seemed somewhat shaken, looked her over from head to toe, as though he could assess her worth with a single glance. After a moment, he offered her a chilling smile, followed by words as sharp as they were cutting.
“Are you aware, Lady Blanche, of the rumors circulating throughout the ton about your family? About your father?” the viscount pondered aloud, closing the distance to her.
If anything, his words only served to inflame Blanche’s temper further. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her sister trying to come to her aid—only to be stopped by their father.
A father who might not have been perfect, but whom Blanche loved deeply. And the fact that Lord Bromley used the rumors surrounding him to pressure her into marriage only intensified her indignation.
“If the rumors concerning my family—and especially my father—are truly as ruinous as you suggest, then surely you would be wise to forget me entirely. I have no intention of tarnishing your pristine reputation by uniting my name with yours,” Blanche said firmly, hoping to dissuade him.
“Your father is the one who has made this promise on your behalf,” Lord Bromley spat coldly. “A man who assured me you were a docile and obedient woman. But I see now that, like so many others, he has deceived me most cruelly.”
Swelling with pride like an over-inflated balloon, he continued his tirade against her.
“Out of pure benevolence, I took pity on you. But now I see you are nothing more than a rude, miserable, and foolish spinster. I daresay your intellect would not recognize a good match even if it stood right before your very eyes!”
At that insult to her character, Blanche could do nothing but defend herself. She was utterly exhausted by men like Bromley—men who, season after season, thought cruelty was a way to earn a lady’s favor.
“Perhaps I am a spinster, my Lord, but I would choose that fate a thousand times over before becoming your wife. That is the depth of my aversion to joining myself to a man so conceited as to think a lady’s favor is earned by humiliating her.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd, subtle yet unmistakable, and she was now all too aware of just how loud they had been.
Couples faltered in their dance; their movements stilled by curiosity.
Bromley had made a spectacle of her, and she him, and now the room was watching, judging.
Even the Dowager Duchess, standing near the punch bowl, seemed to tilt her silver head in their direction, her keen eyes missing nothing.
Blanche felt Fanny’s gaze from across the ballroom—wide-eyed, concerned. But there was no escape, no retreat. Not with him still standing before her, his fury barely concealed.
Blanche inhaled sharply, steadying herself, though her pulse pounded in her ears.
Fortunately, her father arrived hurriedly at their side. He wore a na?ve, perhaps even nervous, smile. It was enough to make Blanche understand that the Earl likely assumed his daughter was simply unsettled… not suspecting the storm that was about to break over them all.
“I’ve waited as long as I dared, but may I now offer my congratulations to the happy couple?” the Earl said to Blanche and Lord Bromley, who stared at him as though the Earl had spat in his face.
“Happy couple?” the viscount repeated, sneering with disdain. “If anything, I would be committing the gravest error of my life by wedding this… this…!”
“I’ve refused Lord Bromley’s proposal, father,” declared Blanche. Her words barely left her lips before the Earl choked on his drink. Across from them, the viscount’s cheeks darkened in rage, his nostrils flaring.
“This is outrageous! An absolute disgrace!” Bromley spat, turning on his heel and storming off like a furious beast.
All eyes followed him, whispers rising in the wake of his departure. Couples interrupted their dance, a few ladies craning their necks in delight at the unfolding scandal.
Fanny slipped to her sister’s side, barely holding back a laugh. “What did you say to Lord Pompous to send him off in such a fury?” she whispered, squeezing Blanche’s hands.
But their father was far from amused.
“This is nothing to celebrate,” he announced, his voice cold and clipped as their mother approached. “Blanche has ruined us.”
“Ruined us, Father?” Blanche repeated incredulously. “You are well aware I have never expressed a desire to wed—especially to someone like Lord Bromley.”
“A man of wealth, society, and title! I fail to see what fault there was in him!”
“Money isn’t everything—can’t you see that?” she argued, her voice rising with frustration.
Their mother, ever aloof, now joined them. “So, when should I have the wedding arranged?”
Oh, dear Mama…
“This is unfair!” Fanny interjected—her voice sharp with frustration as she turned to their father. “Blanche shouldn’t be forced into a marriage she despises just because—”
“Silence, Fanny,” their father cut her off.
Blanche saw the desperation in her sister’s face—her eagerness to fight for her. But their father’s glare silenced her, his authority absolute.
“We shall see if you still believe that money isn’t everything when you’re forced to seek work as a governess to survive,” the Earl snapped, while their mother covered her lips with both hands in horrified disbelief.
Blanche felt her chest tighten, her breath shallow.
A governess?
“But Father, why would I need to seek employment? Has something happened?” Her voice trembled despite her efforts to remain composed.
“You do not understand,” Lord Gooldwer said, his words were tight and clipped with frustration. He pointed at her mother and sister as he spoke.
“You have just ruined all three of you, Blanche.”
Humiliated and overwhelmed, Blanche turned and fled, her pace hurried, her anger simmering. Her sister called out after her, but it was all a blur as tears threatened to spill with every step.