Page 5 of My Demanding Duke

It had not been his intention to try to win the fair Miss Mosley, but now that he had uttered the words aloud, Hugh felt a deep sense of satisfaction. What better way was there to ensure Miss Mosley’s continued safety than installing her by his side as his duchess?

The other players at the table hummed with excitement; no doubt, this would be the talk of taverns across London for many days to come.

“And what do you want to do with her?” Lord Mosley asked with a sneer - though not, Hugh noted, an abject rebuttal of his demand.

“Marry her,” Hugh said simply, “If I win, I shall wipe clean the slate of your debt in exchange for her hand.”

There was a silence as Lord Mosley digested this rather tempting offer. He glanced at the cards in his hands and, as though assured by them, nodded his head.

“Alright,” he agreed, “But you’ll have to double your bid; my Anna’s worth more than a paltry five thousand.”

“Indeed she is,” Hugh agreed, “One might say that her worth is priceless…”

Lord Mosley did not acknowledge the second part of his remark. Instead, he laid his cards out on the table for Hugh to inspect. An approving murmur went up from their fellow players; Lord Mosley held a brilliant hand.

“A good hand,” Hugh acknowledged coldly, “But not a winning one. I’m afraid you’ve been well and truly loo’d, my lord.”

With a flourish, Hugh laid his cards out upon the table - four of the same suit and the coveted Pam.

He had won himself a wife.

CHAPTER TWO

MISS ANNA MOSLEYpaced the floor of the drawing-room, anxiously awaiting the sound of her father’s return. He often returned in the small hours of the morning, but since coming to London he had never before stayed out all night.

Visions of the terrible mishaps which might have befallen him danced through her mind. Her father mixed with the worst kind of men and gambled with a passion that did not match his skill - or his coin purse. There was every chance that he had upset some nefarious crook and had found himself on the receiving end of a closed fist.

Horrified at the idea, Anna scrunched up her eyes so tightly she saw spots, as she willed her anxious mind to settle.

As she continued her pacing, she assured herself that there was also every chance that Papa had - miraculously - won at the tables. Perhaps he was currently sleeping off a night of celebratory drinking in a tavern somewhere?

Anything was possible when it came to her father, and Anna had learned to live with his unpredictable nature since her mother had died, five years before. Living with him was easier when they were resident in Whitby, where her father knew exactly who he should avoid vexing. In London, everyone was a stranger to him and temptation lurked at every corner.

If only they had not come to town, she thought with a forlorn sigh. If only she had convinced Papa to save the fortune he had won at Christmas, rather than take Lady Limehouse up on her offer to sponsor Anna for a season.

Even before she had arrived, Anna had known that the venture would be fruitless. Lady Limehouse had insisted that her lack of fortune was no impediment to finding a husband, but Anna was yet to be presented with evidence to support her claim.

Oh, gentlemen had asked her to dance - she had never been left with an empty card - but none sought to further the acquaintance. She had received no callers to the rented house on Berkley Square, nor had anyone sent her hot-house flowers, or even an invitation that was not made at the behest of the viscountess.

The only eye she had so far managed to catch was that of the Duke of Falconbridge - and Anna would much rather that she hadn’t. No matter how handsome he was, Anna knew that the duke’s reputation was that of a ruthless, cold-hearted brute. He was a man who gambled heavily with both money and women’s hearts - he was not the sort of gentleman that any sane, young lady should wish to be in the company of.

Anna paused and attempted to push his image from her mind’s eye. Falconbridge had no doubt forgotten all about her the second that she had disappeared from his sight - she would not suffer the indignity of daydreaming of a man who could not recall her.

Mercifully, from the hallway, came the sound of a distraction to pull her from her thoughts.

“Only me,” Josephine, Anna’s lady’s maid called out as Anna raced out to the entrance hall.

“Oh,” she answered, trying to keep the note of disappointment from her tone, “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“Your father still not back?” Josephine queried, as she shrugged off her shawl, “Oh, that man. I’ll string him up one day for the trouble he causes you.”

Josie continued to grumble under her breath as she folded her shawl, though she kept her gaze to the floor as though she wished to avoid Anna’s eyes.

“What is it?” Anna prompted, for she knew Josie well enough to know when something was amiss, “Is it father? Did you learn of his whereabouts? Was he involved in some sort of skirmish?”

“That man does not deserve your worry,” Josie sighed, as she finally turned her eyes to Anna, “No, I know nothing of his whereabouts, but when I called to collect the dresses you ordered from Mrs Delacroix, she refused to release them.”

“Why?” Anna asked, although she suspected she might guess the answer. A familiar feeling of anxiety stole over her; her stomach churned and her heart raced within her chest. She had lived so long with the feeling of standing on a precipice waiting to fall that the return of her anxiety felt almost comforting.

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