Page 1 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

Chapter One

There were few things that Catherine Burlow, the eldest daughter of the Viscount Mowbray, enjoyed more than a quiet evening curled up on the sofa, immersed in some imaginary world that existed in some exotic book. It most certainly didn’t include sitting in their stuffy carriage, on the way to one of the many tiresome affairs of the ton that constituted the famed London Season. Unfortunately, she had no say in the matter, as she desperately needed to secure a match this Season, or else she would be firmly on the shelf.

“My darling Cat, while I always long for your happiness and understand that you would rather stay in the comfort of your room, I am afraid that might not be possible this Season,” her mother said beside her with a slightly rueful tone.

The Viscountess was a handsome woman in her fifties who was still a great beauty. In her face, Catherine could glimpse what she might look like in a few decades to come. With her dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes, she could as well be a youngerreplica of her mother. She counted that among the blessings she received by being born to the Viscountess Mowbray.

“I love you and want you to find love, but I am afraid that if you do not secure a match this Season, you will be firmly on the shelf, and that is not good for little Lily when she comes of age…”

Of course, that was the crux of the problem. On her own, Catherine did not practically care for the prospect of marriage, and she would be quite content to live her life as a spinster, renting out a cottage just for herself and maybe taking up work as a companion to an older lady, provided that she was allowed to bury herself in her books.

She was fairly certain that getting married would rob her of the freedom to pursue her hobbies, since most titled gentlemen would rather die than have a bluestocking as a wife.

The institution of marriage held no charm for her, but Lily, even at the tender age of thirteen, showed idealistic romantic tendencies, and Catherine didn’t want to be a stumbling block to her happiness in the future.

Catherine had seen enough love matches not to desire such a thing for herself. Her parents were an example of such a match, and to say their relationship was explosive was an understatement.

She had come to learn that the hotter the flames of their passion, the more explosive their disagreements. The sounds of banging doors, clanging cutlery, shouting matches and drama were partand parcel of her childhood. They always made up quickly after they quarreled. The lovebirds, unfortunately, lacked the ability to stay away from each other for too long. When they were at peace, their home was heaven on earth, but when they had a falling out, it became a biblical fiery pit.

Living constantly under her parents’ display of the extremes of emotion was frankly exhausting—she, being the first of their offspring, had the thankless duty of mediating their disputes.

She literally had to raise herself and Lily and Hugh because her parents were so wrapped up in each other that there was hardly any space to accommodate them. Oh, they had tried. They at least made sure they had material possessions any young lady would want, and they made resources available for her to pursue her love for books, but their support ended there.

But then it was difficult to offer emotional support to anyone when you are having impassioned quarrels with your husband. So Catherine had learned to provide that care for her siblings and herself.

Doing that for over two decades of her existence had helped her to come to the conclusion that she didn’t want the extreme passion that sometimes reduced her intelligent parents to petty primitive humans periodically. It was even worse that both her parents had fiery personalities, so when the fire raged, she had to become the ice that prevented their home from being burned down to ashes—figuratively, of course.

“… also, Emmeline just concluded her mourning and will be returning to London for the Season.”

Catherine was jolted out of her reverie at the mention of Emmeline, her beloved friend who had just come out of mourning for her late father.

“Poor girl,” the Viscountess continued in a sad tone. “It must be difficult to have lost both parents at such a tender age.”

It was indeed sad, as Emmeline was such a sweet girl and definitely did not deserve the hand that fate had dealt her.

“It is unfortunate that her older brother, the Duke, is a rake of the highest caliber. I wonder how he would properly chaperone such an impressionable young girl.” The Viscountess shook her head.

“Mother!” Catherine exclaimed in outrage.

“What? I was just stating facts here,” the Viscountess said in a bewildered tone.

Catherine hated to admit it, but her mother was definitely right. The Duke of St. George, the older brother of her beloved friend, was definitely not a good guardian for any young lady, least of all her friend. He was more likely to be interested in flirting with the young matrons of the ton than keeping an eye out for his younger sister.

She couldn’t blame him, he was quite easy on the eyes. With his height and athletic build, he was a delectable specimen of the male species. His blue eyes and curly hair just added to his charm. It was said that just a sight of the dimple on his jaw sent many ladies of the ton swooning.

That might sound like an exaggeration, and she really thought it was, until she witnessed it happen firsthand. The Dunley girl who had debuted last year had fallen into a dead faint once he flashed her his signature smile while asking her to dance.

While Catherine agreed that he was good-looking—maybe a little too much than was good for him—she didn’t think his charm would inspire such a response. But then the Dunley girl had earned a reputation for being a ninny. Even if she was not, it was common for debutantes and young ladies of the ton to feign a faint to gain the attention of eligible suitors.

They believed it made them look more feminine. But more likely, it made them look like invalids—in her opinion. She had never been good at deception and pretense, and now that she thought about it, it might be part of the reason why she was still unmarried at the ripe age of two-and-twenty.

“We are here,” her mother informed her as soon as the carriage turned onto the drive of Townbrige Mansion.

A look outside the carriage window showed that indeed her mother was correct. A long queue of fashionable members of the ton extended from the front doors to the pavement.

Mentally, Catherine braced herself for a night of necessary, mind-numbing socialization. Remembering that her dear friend would be in attendance lifted her spirits somewhat. It had been several weeks since she had last seen her. Dear Emmeline had to travel to their countryside estate, where her father was eventually buried.

Catherine had tried as much as possible to provide support for her dear friend through letters, but she knew it would never suffice in comparison to an actual meeting. Granted, she was aware that there was no love lost between the late Duke and his children. But surely losing a parent no matter how estranged took its toll.

---