Page 3 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

Northbridge looked up smugly, catching the eyes of his gang of acquaintances on the other side of the room and slowly leaning back in his chair.

“A good game,” he said loudly as many heads turned in their direction. “You almost had me there.”

Christian waited for five full seconds before he pulled the king of spades from his hand and placed it slowly over the queen. The room fell silent.

“Yes, My Lord. I did.”

The Earl’s face contorted in shock as he leaned forward, his cravat tightening around his neck as he swallowed convulsively. Christian didn’t move for a little while, enjoying the feeling of triumph that coursed through him. He had finally bested the man who had insulted him and his brother all those years ago.

I know he is to blame for what has happened to Marcus, and I will find out the truth. Nothing else matters.

Christian scooped up the deed to the house and rose to his feet. The Earl was a sorry sight, his face ashen and his eyes hooded. He would have a thick head in the morning—Christian could only hope that he wouldn’t forget their agreement.

“My club is holding a masquerade ball in two days. Bring your daughter there. And make sure you arrive on time. I do not wish to be kept waiting.”

CHAPTER 2

Louise smoothed down her skirt for the final time as she listened to the patter of rain on the window.

For late March, it had been unseasonably cold, and she was glad of the fur that ran along the hem of her skirt. As a homage to the rumors about her, Louise had chosen to dress as the Ice Queen for the masquerade ball.

Not lacking wit, she had asked her father whether she should dress in armor to match her reputation as the Iron Harridan, but he had not taken kindly to the joke.

She picked up her mask, loath to wear it until they arrived, but she was satisfied with the final ensemble. The pale blue silk beneath the layers of chiffon dazzled with snowflake beading around the hem and bodice. Her pale blue gloves also perfectly matched the extravagant necklace that adorned her neck. The clasp at the back fastened the necklace securely, its jewels cascading down her skin in a graceful arc—fanning out at the base, finishing in teardrop crystals that caught the light.

Her mask, too, sparkled with jewels around the eyes, and the fur moved pleasantly when she walked.

She still could not understand why her father insisted that they attend this event. It was hosted by a rival club for whom he had intense hatred, and he famously detested any occasion where he needed to dress like a fool. Her suggestion that he attend as a jester also had not been received well.

Louise pushed the final pin into her hair, turned left and right to ensure that it was secured by the white ribbon running through it, and then headed downstairs.

She found her mother nervously standing in the entryway, waiting for her father to appear.

Lady Northbridge had chosen the guise of a peacock. She looked effortlessly elegant and much younger than her forty years.

They smiled at one another as Louise descended the last few steps. But just then, the Earl stormed out of his study with a face like thunder, pulling on his gloves as though an army were after him.

“Finally,” he barked when he saw them both waiting for him. “Why does it take an age for you to be ready, girl?”

“Perfection takes time, Papa,” Louise replied smoothly.

Her mother stiffened beside her.

Her father’s expression darkened, and he advanced on her menacingly, reminding her that it was unwise to provoke him when he was so on edge.

“There will be no foolishness this evening. I do not care what any man says to you—you will not behave in the manner you were accused of last Season. Is that understood?”

Louise bit her tongue and curled her fingers around her reticule, barely restraining herself from flinging the thing at her father’s head.

“Papa, I have explained multiple times that Lord Fortescue attacked me. I did notmeanto hurt him. I believe the man simply has weak bones.”

“Whatever the cause, there will be no more of it, is that understood? This family’s reputation hangs by a thread as it is!”

“What do you mean by that?” Louise asked sharply, noting her father’s cheeks reddening alarmingly as blood rushed to his face.

With an effort, he seemed to recover himself, taking in a deep breath as he straightened his gloves and offered his arm to his wife.

“Why are we going to an event at Orions, Papa?” Louise asked for the second time. “I know you cannot be anticipating it with great relish. Would it not be simpler to send our excuses?”

---