Page 5 of Married to the Ruthless Duke

They shot her matching glares, but her words caused them to proceed on another long tirade about him.

Even with his dark charm, he tended to lounge at odd corners of the ballroom while casting disinterested looks at the members of the fairer sex that batted their eyelashes relentlessly in his direction. His disinterest strangely enough did not protect him from becoming involved in several scandals that would probably have been more damning if not for his powerful title.

Unfortunately, his propensity for scandal scared the more sensible mamas of the ton, who warned their daughters of the dangers of being caught with him—ruination being a prime example. This invariably led to most of the debutantes avoiding him. His brooding temperament didn’t help his cause. Most of those girls just fresh off the schoolroom were scared of him, and he appeared not to care.

Frankly, Helen didn’t envy his future bride because it was obvious he was a cold, calculating man, and she strongly preferred a softer, considerate, and loving man for a husband.

She reckoned a man who was rumored to have thrown his family out and disinherited them would not be kind to any failures of his wife, and knowing her headstrong tendencies, any marriage with a man possessing the Duke’s temperament would be disastrous.

Helen wished him good luck in his new life with his bride and hoped strongly that she would change him. She would admit that she was curious to see who the future Duchess was. Knowing the capricious attention span of the ton, she was certain there would soon be some other gossip to occupy them before the week ran out.

“Good day, Madam,” their butler, Mr. Biggins, greeted while taking her coat when she finally stepped into her home.

“Good day, Mr. Biggins,” Helen replied with a cheerful smile. “Is Father in?”

“I believe so, Madam,” he answered. “I saw him earlier in the drawing room.”

“All right,” she replied, before heading towards the drawing room, removing her gloves as she went. When she got closer, she could hear her father’s voice

“… don’t know why you could not be more like your sister. You are already three-and-twenty, already firmly on the shelf. Instead of trying to find a good match, you prefer to consort with the wallflowers. The suitors you do get, you reject them offhand for the most obnoxious reasons. What is wrong with you, dear girl?”

Helen opened the door and walked in to see her sister sitting on one of the sofas, her spine ramrod straight and her hands primly folded in her lap. Margaret was looking straight ahead. Helen recognized that look; Margaret had zoned out like she always did whenever their father scolded her.

Compared to Helen, who was a firecracker in her own right, Margaret was calm and was usually called an ice queen because of her eerie ability to mask her true feelings, but she was Helen’s sister, and as such, Helen knew her better than most and could vouch for the fact that Margaret was flesh and blood.

She just wasn’t the social butterfly that Helen was and was most comfortable among the wallflowers at the fringes of the ballroom at every ball.

Helen was very sure it was not due to a lack of dancing skills, because her sister was an exceptional dancer, rivaling Helen, who was known amongst the ton as the queen of the dance floor.

Margaret had always been reserved, but in the past year, Helen had noticed that she retreated even more and more into her shell.

Helen had her suspicions that it had something to do with heartbreak, but for some reason, Margaret refused to confide in her, so she kept her suspicions to herself until Margaret deemed it fit to open up.

It also didn’t help that her father had taken to criticizing Margaret for her unmarried state, and unlike his usual self, Helen had noticed he was even more on edge these days

“Father, what is it this time?” Helen scolded. “I thought we agreed that you would stop the comparison between my sister and me. I am hardly the yardstick for female virtue, so cease the scolding. It is still much too early for that.”

“But—”

“No, Father.” She shook her head, sighing at how red he was. “You are overexerting yourself, and now your whole face is red. Calm yourself and have some tea.”

She urged him to relax on the sofa, signaling to a drawing room maid to prepare a tea service and placing an affectionate kiss on his weathered cheek.

“I’m just worried about her living life alone.” He sighed, giving his older daughter an apologetic look. “Forgive me, Margaret, if I come across as overbearing. I only want the best for you and your sister.”

“All is forgiven, Father,” Margaret said, her lips curling into a rueful smile.

“I just worry so much about you two. Ever since we lost your mother…” His voice broke off into a sob, bringing tears to their eyes. “I don’t know how long I will live, and I want you girls to be well settled with well-placed gentlemen to take care of you when I am gone. I don’t trust that your cousin, Thomas, will take care of you.”

“Father, you are not going anywhere, at least not any time soon, and we will be fine. Trust me. You raised strong women, you know,” Helen said while rubbing her father’s shoulder in reassurance.

But she quite understood her father’s fear. Even with her acting like she cared little for society and her future, she was not oblivious to the way society treated women who were not attached in a way that suited them. There were very few respectable occupations an unmarried female could take up in the event they came to ruin, and Helen could never trust her cousin, Thomas, who was her father’s named heir to his title and estate, to care for them when he did inherit the title.

Thomas, who was two years older than Margaret, was a drunkard and dissolute skirt chaser. He spent most of his time getting roaring drunk and wenching in taverns. He had even propositioned Margaret to be his mistress if she remained unmarried when he inherited on one of his visits to their townhouse, so Helen knew that none of them would be safe in his care.

It was unfortunate that fate didn’t see it fit to grant a male son to her father and mother, who had died in childbirth trying to give him an heir. Helen suspected that her father still suffered unresolved guilt about their mother’s death, but he hid it well.

Helen poured the tea and added a cube of sugar and a splash of milk, sharing the latest gossip she had heard.

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