Page 1 of Bound to a Wicked Duke

CHAPTER ONE

London, England, A.D. 1811

“Percy has returned to London,” Cecil’s voice broke into Madeleine’s internal revery.

Madeleine turned her head away from the carriage window, her brother’s random topic of conversation distracting her from the pleasant view of the flowering meadows.

“What was that?” she asked, sure that she had not heard him properly.

They were on their way to the Gillett family’s London townhouse for Madeleine’s second season. She had barely managed to escape being married off during her first one. She hoped that she would be able to do the same again this year. If she had her own way, she would never wed, but her father had quite different ideas on the matter.

Cecil gave her an annoyed look but repeated his words.

“I said that Percy has returned from his trip abroad and will be in attendance at the ball this evening.”

Madeleine’s heart fluttered, and she frowned visibly at its unwarranted reaction.

“Do not look so downtrodden,” Cecil insisted. His tone indicated that he was still annoyed at her for her daydreaming. “Anyway, he is not back to seeyou,Bacon Face. I was just filling the silence with conversation.”

Madeleine narrowed her eyes at her older brother, and before he could protect himself, she shot out her hand and hit him with her beaded silk bag.

“Stop that,” Cecil argued, shooing away her bag, but he was smiling again.

“Do not call me names, and I will not strike you,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Cecil threw her an annoyed look but didn’t say a word as a small, affectionate smile crept across his face.

Madeleine had not seen Percival Hardy, her brother’s best friend and her greatest childhood annoyance, in years.

The last time had been a trip to Bath to visit the Duke of Greyhall before his passing when he had taken the waters for his failing health. Then, Percy had greeted her with a begrudged, “Hello, Monkey”—his annoying pet name for her—before completely dismissing her existence and going off with Cecil. It was better than Bacon Face, but she still detested it.

“And how is the Arthurian Knight?” she inquired, making her own jest towards Percival’s name.

In truth, though, very much like knighted hero in the epic poem, Cecil’s Percival had lost a great deal. First his mother. Now his father. And she imagined he’d lost quite a few other things during the time in between.

Cecil lost his brotherly smile as his brow furrowed in concern for his friend.

“I do not know. His letters were few during his time on the continent. I am hoping to speak with him this evening.”

Madeleine nodded. She did not speak further on the subject but left her brother with his thoughts as she returned to her own. She needed to formulate a plan to avoid encountering certain, persistent young men. Her last season had been an exercise in acrobatically agile avoidance.

As if he could read her thoughts, her brother turned his attention back to her. “Are you prepared for the season to come? It will not be as easy for you to do as you wish now that our father has become aware of your methods of avoidance in the field ofcourtship. You were only able to get away with it last season because he was consumed with the duties of parliament.”

Madeleine shook her head. “He is more determined than ever to marry me off to the highest level of nobility that he can manage. I love Father, and he undoubtedly loves me, but he is a nobleman who believes in social climbing by marrying his daughters off to the best advantage.”

“Most noblemen do,” Cecil pointed out. “Perhaps father will be able to do the same for you as our sister, Emily. She has been married two years now to a wealthy viscount who has made her incredibly happy.”

“Emily is indeed fortunate that the Viscount turned out to be a good man,” Madeleine agreed with a sigh. “And I am happy that she is happy, but not many women are so blessed. There are a great many disappointments when it comes to marriage within the ton.”

Though her comment came off as snide, she meant in sincerely. Too many women she’d learned to love as friends were now grown and married to strangers they feared or loathed, simply for their title and upward movement in society. The fact that Emily and her Viscount had fallen in love had been a true and surprising blessing.

Their carriage pulled up in front of the Gillett family’s townhouse, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. A footman opened the door to assist Madeleine from the stepdown to the street. Madeleine let out a sigh of resignation and emerged from the carriage confines with determination.

“Welcome home, My Lady,” the footman murmured respectfully then escorted her to her brother’s side. “My Lord,” he bowed his head then carried in the luggage.

“My Lord; My Lady,” the butler greeted them at the door, bowing his head in respect. “The Earl and Countess have already arrived and are resting before the ball this evening.”

“Thank you, Mr. Greeves,” Madeleine responded with a smile. She was fond of the elderly servant and was genuinely happy to see him. They had left the family steward, Mr. James Stuart, a lively Scotsman of robust energy, in charge of their country estate in Oxfordshire while they were in town for the season. Gerald Greeves, as butler, and his wife, Eithne, as head housekeeper, oversaw the townhouse whether the family was in residence or not.

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