Page 5 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

The disdain the Duke harbored for her father radiated from him like a tangible force. Louise could almost feel it crackling in the air between them.

“I invited yourdaughterto attend this event, My Lord,” the Duke stated coldly. “I did not extend that invitation to her family.”

Lord Northbridge’s simple mask did little to disguise the deepening flush creeping up his neck in response to the Duke’s scathing words.

“Lady Northbridge may stay as Lady Louise’s chaperone,” the Duke continued, offering the Countess a curt bow. “But you, My Lord, are not welcome in my club.”

Louise’s gaze snapped toward her father. She did not doubt that an agreement existed between the two men. The thought was not a pleasant one, but her father’s expression gave nothing away.

After a brief hesitation, Lady Northbridge detached herself from the Earl and came to stand beside Louise. Lord Northbridge took off his mask. His mouth twisted into a snarl as several guests turned to stare at them.

“You may make a scene if you wish,” the Duke said as he lifted one hand, casually inspecting his fingernails. “But I would not advise it. I have excellent security who would be more than happy to show you the way out.”

The Earl opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping on the shoreline, struggling for words that would not come. His eyes met Louise’s, and in that fleeting glance, there was something almost imploring—was it desperation or even a flicker of regret?

But the moment passed. His expression hardened as he quickly composed himself. Without so much as a glance at his wife, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Louise moved closer to her mother, feeling a comforting arm curl around her own. She could feel dozens of eyes on them now.

The noise of the ball seemed to have dropped to a low murmur as the Duke turned to her. He had a strikingly sharp jaw and a firm mouth that made his face seem all the sterner.

He stepped forward, giving another low bow to her mother. “My apologies, Lady Northbridge. My quarrel is not with you. I would invite you to partake in the refreshments and enjoy your evening.”

“I thank you for the invitation, Your Grace,” Lady Northbridge replied evenly as she curtsied to him. Her eyes darted to the door through which her husband had departed, her back and arms rigid with tension, but she made no comment.

As the exchange unfolded, Louise found her gaze continually drawn to the Duke. There was something magnetic about him that set him apart from other gentlemen. Every detail of his attire was immaculate, except for his cravat, which hung slightly looser than fashion dictated.

When she looked back up at him, she was not entirely sure what to make of the calculating look in his eyes.

She watched in fascination as his hand moved toward her, and she stared at it stupidly, wondering what he might mean by it.

“You will follow me, Lady Louise.”

The words were spoken in a low, reverberating voice that sent a shiver through her. Everything in her rebelled at the thought of blindly following this man somewhere alone. The room was filled with gossipmongers who already wished to tarnish her reputation further. Yet, she could not see a way to refuse with so many eyes on them.

“Come to meet her new lover, I see.”

The words she had overheard suddenly echoed in her mind, and the cold seeped through her like nothing she had ever felt before.

With no choice but to comply, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out of the ballroom.

“Right this way.”

CHAPTER 3

The door clicked shut as Christian watched his guest walk slowly into the room.

She looked intrigued—or was she irritated? He supposed both were to be expected. He noted that despite the privacy they had, they both kept their masks on. His hand itched to remove hers so that he could look her in the eye and say what he needed to say.

He had heard about her reputation as the ‘Iron Harridan’ from his friends, who had discussed it at length during the last Season. She was no longer the innocent girl he had encountered in her father’s hallway. Her reddish-blonde hair was pinned to her head with ribbons, a stark contrast to the rest of her ensemble. It was almost as though the Ice Queen herself stood before him in all her glory. She was startlingly beautiful.

This arrangement may not be such a hardship, after all.

“Do you know why you are here?” he asked.

She said nothing, watching him carefully before shaking her head.

“Your father has sold you to me.”

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