Page 1 of My Demanding Duke

CHAPTER ONE

HUGH ALEXANDER DEWolfe, Sixth Duke of Falconbridge, was a great believer in the power of fate. As he drank in the vision of the lovely young woman before him, whose eyes stared unseeingly out into the dark garden, he thanked his fortunes that destiny had sent him her way.

Well, fateandan urge to smoke a cheroot, if he was to be honest…

The young woman was dressed simply, when compared to the other fillies dancing inside in the Morland’s ballroom. The white gown which clung to her gentle curves was unadorned by lace, flounces, or any other busy trimmings. Its simplicity highlighted the sheer beauty of her face; heart-shaped, high cheekbones, a rosebud mouth which was set in a pout, and large, almond shaped eyes. Her hair was piled high upon her head; a golden crown for an angel fallen to earth.

Hugh was overcome by a strong urge to thread his fingers through those tresses, to see if they felt as silky as they looked.

“It is not wise for young ladies to wander alone at night,” he offered, as he stepped forward - hoping that by speaking he might silence the wicked thoughts in his mind.

The young woman started and turned her eyes in his direction. For a moment, Hugh felt as though he had been punched in the stomach, as a pair of cornflower eyes met his.

“You risk your reputation,” he continued, when she made no reply.

Too late, he realised that his words might be construed as a threat, rather than helpful advice.

“If you mean to take a punt at sullying my reputation, your Grace,” his companion replied archly, aware exactly with whom she was speaking, “Then I feel obliged to warn you that I am no shrinking violet; if I am required to use violence to protect my person, I shall not hesitate to do so.”

Hugh bit back a smile; his angel was definitely of the fallen variety.

“I was not threatening you,” he assured her, in what he hoped was a gallant manner, “I was merely offering you advice.”

To his annoyance, Hugh found his attempt at chivalry was met with a slow, sardonic smile.

“How very like a gentleman, to think that he should police the actions of a lady,” she answered, with an impatient sigh, “Your time might be better spent elsewhere, your Grace. My slipping outside to take some air can hardly compare to the sins currently being committed by young bloods in bawdy houses and gaming hells across the city.”

Hugh raised a surprised brow; it was not often one heard a young lady reference bawdy houses. Who was this creature? Whoever she was, Hugh had obviously made a poor first impression. Despite his irritation that she had not yet succumbed to his charm - which was unusual, for most ladies found him charming - Hugh felt compelled to try to redeem himself.

“I quite agree,” he said, truthfully, “Society places too much emphasis on its daughters’ behaviour, whilst ignoring the sins of its sons. My advice was offered in good faith; I wished to protect you from hypocritical whispers, rather than point out a perceived transgression. I am not so conceited to think that I, of all people, am in any position to offer anyone lessons on morality.”

His companion’s frosty expression thawed a little at his words and she eyed him thoughtfully. Hugh was glad that he had outed himself as a sinner, for it allowed him to match her stare with a pointed one of his own. To his satisfaction, he noted a faint blush stain her cheeks.

“A man loses his family fortune at the tables and no one raises more than a whisper,” she said, suddenly - as though trying to distract herself, “Whilst a lady might be spotted walking alone in Green Park, and the scandal might taint her for years.”

“It’s unfair,” he agreed, as he took a casual step forward, “Though, at this very moment, my mind is fixated on another unfairness.”

His angel glanced at him with confusion.

“You are aware of who I am,” he said, rather pointedly, for she had addressed him by his title, “Yet I have no idea of your name.”

There was a pause, as his angel eyed him warily.

“I imagine that a man of your status is introduced to so many young ladies, that after a while our names become inconsequential,” she eventually replied, with a shrug, “We must all blend into one, your Grace; just a blur of white dresses and indistinguishable features.”

Though her observation was unnervingly astute, Hugh still bristled in annoyance. True, he did not care to remember the names of other young ladies, but he had a burning desire to know the name ofthisyoung lady.

“If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were being deliberately obtuse,” he said, and his observation was met with a pleased smile.

“You are correct, your Grace,” his angel answered, as she straightened her gloves and smoothed down the skirts of her dress - preparing, perhaps, to return indoors, “I do not think it proper for us to be introduced so informally, alone as we are.”

Hugh frowned; he was unaccustomed to having someone refuse his wishes.

“Well,” he answered belligerently, “I shall just have to arrange a formal introduction.”

His vow was met with a wry laugh and his companion began to move toward the French doors from which he had recently emerged.

“I shan’t hold my breath, your Grace,” she answered lightly, her tone amused, “Your reputation is not that of a man who seeks formal introductions to ladies on the marriage mart -”

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