Page 24 of A Heart Disguised 1

I nearly choked on my wine again as I took a sip. “The journey from Aldercrest was… invigorating for the appetite,” I managed, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin.

“Any… hiccups along the way?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. The way he said it made me feel as though he was privy to some private joke, one that I wasn’t part of.

Oh, you mean besides the constant struggle with the infernal gowns or trying to eat in a moving carriage without wearing half my meal? Perhaps you’re referring to nearly suffocating every time I breathed too deeply thanks to the torture device they call a corset? Or maybe the time I almost drowned in a rushing river during what was supposed to be a simple bath? Thank the stars for Russet; without him, one of your soldiers might have had to fish me out, ending this charade before it began. And let’s not forget the fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares of the very demon lord now sitting across from me.

“Not at all,” I lied, smiling so sweetly I could practically feel my teeth rotting. “Though your soldiers are quite… imposing.”

His laugh was rich and warm, like honey poured over thunder. “You’ll get used to them. The people of Lunaria did.”

“And yet there are no women in this castle,” I pointed out before I could stop myself.

“It’s quite pleasant, actually,” he mused. “No swooning or shrieking.”

My cheeks blazed hotter than Rosalind’s fire magic. I had indeed fainted spectacularly upon our first meeting. “How fortunate for you,” I muttered into my wineglass.

“Indeed,” he agreed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Though I must say, your… unique approach to curtsying earlier was quite refreshing.”

I groaned internally, remembering my graceless attempt at a curtsy that had more closely resembled a newborn foal trying tostand. “I aim to entertain, Your Grace,” I quipped, deciding that if I couldn’t be graceful, I might as well be witty.

“And succeed you do, Lady Robin,” he said.

8

Robin

The duke shifted the conversation to a subject that made my heart seize. “Now, about our wedding,” he began, and the word hung in the air like an executioner’s axe, ready to fall.

I clutched my wineglass like a lifeline, pleading silently for time. Let it be months from now, I begged the universe, years even. Enough time for me to learn to breathe in this corset or perhaps grow gills.

“To be held in a week’s time,” the duke continued, as if he had plucked my silent prayer right from my mind and decided to use it as kindling.

I nearly choked on air. A week? My vision swam, and I forced myself to take a breath that didn’t sound like it was my last. “Your Grace,” I stammered, grasping at straws like a drowning man clutching at passing fish. “Surely even that is too soon for… for proper attire. A dress must be made!”

He nodded sagely, a glint in his eye that made me wonder if he could read minds after all. “Indeed, which is why I’ve already commissioned Lunaria’s finest couturier for your gown. They began work the moment our union was decreed.”

My mind raced—how could he have known my size? My measurements? Was this part of his demonic abilities? Panic fluttered in my chest like a caged bird trying to escape through my ribs.

“They will arrive tomorrow morning for your final fitting,” he said smoothly, and I saw it then—the faint curve of his lips, the amusement dancing in his eyes. He was enjoying this! The thought of fittings and measurements seemed to delight him as much as it terrified me. “A week is more than enough time for any final adjustments.”

“But there’s no need,” I protested weakly. “Meredith has all my measurements; they can simply ask her.”

Darius leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made me want to sink into my seat. “Nonsense. We must ensure everything fits perfectly. Perhaps you’ve lost or gained weight during your journey. No, I insist on a proper fitting.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Surely that’s not necessary—”

“I’ll be there myself,” he declared, “to see that it’s done properly.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Your Grace!” I squeaked, my voice reaching a pitch I didn’t know I possessed. “A lady can’t possibly allow men to… to see her being fitted!”

His laugh was rich and warm. “There’s no need for such modesty, my dear. We demons are quite accustomed to such things. Besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a silky purr, “we are to be husband and wife. We’ll be sharing a bed, seeing each other in various states of undress…”

I choked on air, my face burning hotter than the fires of whatever demon realm he hailed from. The thought of sharing a bed with the duke, of him seeing me without my carefully constructed disguise, sent waves of panic crashing through me.

Desperate to change the subject, I blurted out, “Perhaps we can also have them tailor some trousers and shirts? For riding and such… and for travel.” I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t question why aladywould need such attire.

He considered this for a moment, his eyebrow arching in a way that made me wonder if I’d just given myself away. “Indeed? You enjoy riding, then?”

“Oh, yes,” I lied, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically. In truth, I’d never had the opportunity to learn, being a bastard son relegated to the shadows. But I’d watched enviously as my half-siblings took their lessons, and I’d dreamed of the freedom it represented. “Back home, I rode often. It’s one of my favorite pastimes. Almost as enjoyable as… embroidery.” I added the last part hastily, trying to salvage some semblance of ladylike interests.

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