1. Chapter 1 #2
“He’s desperate for a wife,” Martha added, “though I’m not sure how many women would be willing to move into a haunted castle on the coastal moors—no matter what her title might be.”
I released a sigh before I knew it was escaping and said, “I would prefer living as far away from London as possible.” I glanced in Lord Cranford’s direction, a shiver running up my spine. “Almost anything would be preferable to a townhouse in the city.”
“It won’t matter all that much.” Martha snapped her fan closed. “Louise Garfield has set her sights on the duke.”
We all watched as Louise approached the duke. She was bolder than the rest of us and had created more than one scene since the season started a little over two months ago. From what I’d heard and witnessed, Louise and Clara had been rivals, even back in New York.
“She already tried to attract the duke’s attention when he was courting Clara,” I told my two friends. “But I don’t think she’s the kind of girl he’s looking for.”
The duke glanced in Louise’s direction but quickly turned his attention away from her, not acknowledging her arrival.
“My, he’s handsome,” Ruth said with a strange noise in her throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more attractive man.” She lifted her fan and fluttered it so hard, the wind caused her curls to dance around her face. “It doesn’t seem fair that one man can be so good-looking.”
“His brooding countenance only makes him more so,” Martha added with the same strange longing in her voice.
His attractiveness was something we could all agree upon.
Even with the scar that ran across his left cheek and into his hairline, the duke was dangerously handsome, with black hair and black eyes.
He was taller than many of the men in the room and held himself apart.
His life was not only a mystery, but it was wrapped in rumors and intrigue.
I didn’t believe half of what I’d heard, but each time I saw him, I was left to wonder if perhaps it was all true.
As his gaze turned toward our side of the room, Martha and Ruth straightened beside me.
It was hard to care what the duke thought of me.
The London season had been nothing more than a marriage mart, and the American heiresses were this year’s fresh stock.
I’d been perused, peppered with questions, and pandered to so often, I had lost all interest in being noticed.
Yet—when the duke’s gaze met mine and he paused, his attention focusing on me—my heart started to beat an unusual rhythm.
I held his piercing gaze as I studied him with unwavering curiosity.
And then my breath caught as he started to move in my direction.
He’d been searching for me.
It was such a strange sensation. I knew everyone was watching, yet it felt as if the whole ballroom faded away as the duke approached me.
“Lily,” Martha breathed beside me in a desperate whisper, her usually polished voice high and squeaky. “He’s coming this way.”
I could not think of a single thing to say in response.
Why was the duke walking toward me? We’d been introduced once, but it was at the same ball where he’d met Clara Hill.
Her beauty had outshone every woman in the room, yet I didn’t think it was her looks alone that had captured the duke’s interest. I’d overheard their witty banter and knew he had been drawn to her confidence and charm.
She hadn’t appeared scared or intimidated by him and had never ingratiated herself with flattery.
Perhaps that’s why she’d stood out to him.
I had no wish to attract his attention, yet it seemed I had done just that.
Everyone stepped out of his way, as if he were parting a great sea that stood between us. Even Martha and Ruth moved aside.
Mother and Lady Paget, the American heiress who was sponsoring my season in London, had drilled courtly manners into me and so I offered him a curtsey.
“Your Grace,” I said, dipping my chin before rising again.
“Miss Parker?” His deep voice matched his powerful presence.
I answered, “Yes,” surprised that he remembered my name from our brief interaction.
“May I have this dance?”
I blinked in surprise. I’d only seen the duke dance twice the whole season and both times had been with Clara Hill.
Mother had cautioned me not to dance with too many men tonight, since she wanted Lord Cranford to believe he monopolized my heart. So my dance card was conspicuously empty, allowing me to offer my gloved hand to the duke. “Yes, of course.”
He took it—and a bolt of something passed through me, though I wasn’t sure if it was electricity or fear.
When his gaze jumped to mine, I wondered if he felt it, too.
Every eye was upon us as we moved to the dance floor.
There was something magnetizing about the Duke of Severton, and I was certain he would have been just as attractive and fascinating if he was a common laborer or lamplighter.
Yet I couldn’t deny that his title had given him the power and authority he exuded without effort.
It wasn’t until he turned to me and slipped his hand around my waist that I realized the song was a waltz.
Stepping closer to him, more aware of his hand on my back than I’d ever been of any other man’s, I lifted the train of my gown in my left hand and slipped my right hand into his.
Before I could catch my breath, we began to dance.
His gaze was more intense and penetrating as we stood so close.
What was he looking for? And why did he wear such an intimidating facade? He couldn’t truly be this menacing and detached from the people closest to him, could he?
What was he hiding underneath it all? And were any of the rumors true? I wanted to know more than I should, but he intrigued me. He was a challenge, and I liked people who were not easy to read. They made the best kind of characters.
Our gazes collided and something shifted in his eyes. Some strange understanding.
Could he see that I was also hiding something behind my own facade? A writing career that would shock this entire room.
His hold tightened as if he’d found the answer to a question.
He was an accomplished dancer, one of the better I’d waltzed with, yet he wasn’t the type of man who seemed to need—or want—my praise.
“How long do you plan to stay in London, Your Grace?” I asked.
“I want to leave as soon as my business is settled.”
By business , he meant finding a wife. Everyone knew the truth. Why couldn’t we talk about it openly? I decided to be honest and forthright.
“And how does your search go?”
“It has not produced the results I would have liked.”
“Miss Hill was an acquaintance of mine. I am sorry things ended the way they did.”
“I am certain she will be happier with the man she chose.”
I lifted my eyebrows, expecting him to be bitter and angry. He was neither. Yet had he meant Clara would be happier with her fiancé—or happier that she wouldn’t be married to the duke?
“I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for very soon.”
He continued to study me and then said, “I believe I already have.”
The world seemed to pause around us as I stared back at him.
Did he mean me? But why? He knew nothing about me, except my name and that I was an heiress.
Anger suddenly replaced my nerves as I thought about my stepfather and Lord Cranford, and all the other men who had married for money alone. I’d never met a man who loved me for me, and I feared I might never know what it felt like. Did true love even exist? Especially for wealthy people like us?
The bitterness I’d felt since my father’s passing pushed against my chest, and I looked over the duke’s shoulder to try to steady my feelings. Why was I suddenly overcome with disappointment and resentment? Wasn’t the duke playing the same game I was? We both knew why we were here.
“Of all the women in this room, why me?” I asked feeling bold, knowing I had nothing to lose. “I am not the most beautiful, the most accomplished, nor the wealthiest.” Perhaps that last part was not true, but he didn’t need to know how much money I possessed.
“You don’t look through me.”
I stared at him, my shoulders loosening a fraction. “What?”
“The others.” His stormy gaze met mine. “They do not see me, only the title and prestige. From the moment I met you at Lord Hawthorne’s ball, I could tell you were different.”
“You mean Clara and I were different,” I corrected, feeling a little sardonic. “She must have not looked through you, either. She was the only woman you danced with that night.”
“I met her first.”
In a room full of flattery and guile, his honesty appealed to me, so it was my turn to be frank. “I don’t want to simply be the second choice.”
“None of us do, but life isn’t always fair.”
It certainly was not.
“Perhaps none of it even matters,” he added, his voice grave. “Clara was not meant to become the Duchess of Severton.”
“And you think I am?”
He continued to watch me as we danced around the room.
“I cannot presume to know what God has planned for your life, but I need a wealthy wife, and I cannot wait any longer to return to Pickering Castle. As much as I hate to admit it”—he scowled—“I will lose everything if I do not marry an heiress. I have dozens of tenant farmers whose lives depend upon me, a castle that is falling to the ground, and four younger brothers who need proper guidance or I fear they will be reprobates for the rest of their lives. I inherited all of it, along with my father’s insurmountable debts and his—” He paused and looked as if he wanted to finish his statement but then redirected his comment.
“I would not have come to London if I was not…desperate.”
There was something about his raw honesty, which obviously cost him dearly, that appealed to me. I was not desperate, though my mother might disagree.
Yet just as he had mentioned four younger brothers, I had my two younger stepsisters to consider.
Margaret and Adeline were just a couple of years younger than me, and both were poised to debut soon.
If I made an advantageous match, every ballroom in New York would open to them and they could have their choice of husbands.
As it stood, their deceased mother’s questionable past and their father’s current reputation would leave them with few options.
They were the only blessing that had come from Mother’s second husband, and I wanted to do everything in my power to care for them.
The duke was silent as I considered my options.
Unlike Lord Cranford, the Duke of Severton needed my money to care for people besides himself.
The duke wanted to help those under his protection who depended upon him, and I admired that a great deal.
If I was going to marry a man I didn’t love, I wanted to at least respect him.
And I couldn’t deny that my physical attraction to him greatly impacted my decision.
“Will you allow me to call on you tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded and when the song came to an end, he dipped his head as I curtseyed. “Tomorrow, then.”
Without another word, he walked out of the ballroom.
Everyone’s focus shifted from the Duke of Severton to me.
Within seconds, Mother was at my side, leading me from the room, bypassing Lord Cranford without hesitation.
The man looked befuddled and then angry.
“Tell me everything,” Mother said as we found a quiet alcove tucked under the stairs. “What did the duke say?”
I blinked several times, my thoughts still dancing. “He would like me to become his duchess.”
Her mouth fell open in the most unladylike manner. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“W-What did you say, Lily?” I’d never seen her lose her composure as she did now.
“I told him he could call on us in the morning.”
A grin stole over her face as triumph glowed in her eyes. “Tomorrow! He’s coming tomorrow!” She paused, her entire countenance still. “You will marry him, won’t you?”
I took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “I believe I will.”
That was all I needed to say. She whisked me out of the alcove and found our wraps, not giving Lord Cranford another thought.