Page 1 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

CHAPTER 1

“Y-Your Grace? …” the valet spoke louder each time, but it still didn’t work. “Your Grace, I apologize, but you really ought to wake up…”

“What? … Where…” Jonathan Whitlock, the Duke of Silverbrook, opened just one eye, and even that was more effort than he could muster. A tidal wave of pain washed over him, his head violently rebelling against the idea of moving.

“Lady Kirdale is waiting for you downstairs in the parlor, Your Grace,” the valet added even more apologetically.

“Parlor?” Jonathan echoed as if he had no idea what a parlor was. Perhaps something to eat or drink?

Drink.That was when his memory flooded him with images of the previous night. The other eye finally opened, viscous and reluctant to accept the visions of the morning. At first glance, he realized where he was. He was in his townhouse in London.

Oh, good,he thought to himself.At least, I managed to get home.

He moved slowly with much effort, and when he looked down at himself, he reached yet another realization. He had slept in the same clothes he was wearing the previous night. He looked down more closely. His shirt was unbuttoned. His trousers as well. To say that he was a mess would have been a gross understatement. And that headache rose with each passing moment, claiming more of his focus.

“You said Lady Kirdale?” Jonathan echoed when the idea finally settled, an idea he didn’t like. “She is here?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” his valet nodded patiently, for this was not the first time he had to explain something twice, or even thrice, before Jonathan realized what was happening. Fortunately, the man was handsomely paid for his efforts, and in Jonathan’s opinion, that made it more than fair.

Jonathan nodded, placing his feet onto the floor with a heavy frown. He felt as if he had magically been transformed into a rag doll, and his limbs were sewn onto him, dangling without any control on his part. They were there, but he could not do anything conscious with them. He doubted he could hold a teacup at that moment.

“I shall be downstairs momentarily,” Jonathan managed to muster, wondering why his cousin Rebecca had come so early and unannounced. Did something happen?

“Yes, Your Grace,” the valet nodded again then disappeared behind closed doors, giving Jonathan a moment to gather the strength to get up.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair, disheveled and tangled from sleep. The movement sent a wave of pain through his head, causing him to wince and mutter a curse under his breath. Slowly, he rose to his full height, despite the obvious discomfort.

Staggering to the washbasin, he splashed cold water on his face, the shock helping to clear some of the fog from his mind. His clothes from the previous night were crumpled and smelled faintly of tobacco and brandy. The dark blue waistcoat and black trousers, while stylish, were a stark contrast to his disheveled state. He tugged at the edges of his shirt and waistcoat, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable, but that was impossible. He reached into his pocket, feeling something sticking out.

A moment later, his hand extracted a white garter and stocking. He lifted an eyebrow, faintly remembering the face of the lady it belonged to. He grinned to himself, stuffing it back into his pocket. Deciding that he needed to look at least somewhat presentable, he got dressed although without his valet, and with the aftereffects of the previous night still emanating off of him, he didn’t manage to do a very good job of it. With a final glance in the mirror, he attempted to smooth his hair and straighten his posture. It did little to achieve any improvement in his outward appearance, so he gave up.

A minute later, he found himself in the parlor with his cousin standing by the window with a cup of tea in her hand. The look of utter shock upon seeing him was impossible to miss.

“Jonathan… what happened to you? Did you just wake up?” she asked aghast. Her blue eyes, sharp and observant, traversed the distance between his head and his toes, taking in his crumpled attire and disheveled hair.

“Yes,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug. “What’s wrong with that?”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow. “It’s well past lunchtime, Cousin. Even for you, that is rather late.”

She stood, shaking her head at him, her hand pressed to her hip in the manner of a disapproving governess. She was tall and slender, even after two children, her figure accentuated by the elegantly simple gowns she favored, often in shades of deep green or royal blue that complemented her fair complexion.

He offered a casual smile to his cousin, unbothered by her scrutiny. “I had a late night, and I just lost track of time. You know how it is.”

“I do not know how it is,” she reminded him. “You know that well enough.”

“Ah, yes, you must have forgotten what it is like to actually have fun,” he teased, much to her amused chagrin.

“I do believe you have a tendency to have fun for the both of us, so I don’t have to,” she reciprocated in the same playful manner that always characterized their conversations.

“Do you see, Becky my dear, how much I love you? I am even willing to sacrifice myself like that for you,” he said with a chuckle, and she could not help but join in.

Rebecca set her teacup down and crossed her arms, her expression one of amused exasperation. “You know, Jonathan, one of these days, you will have to relinquish your bachelor ways.”

“One of which days?” he asked, mockingly gasping. “These?”

“I am serious,” she said with a hint of a smile lingering in the corner of her lips. That was a conversation they had had many times before, but it never ended the way she wanted it to. He was simply too good at avoiding his obligations.

“So am I,” he replied, grinning.

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