Page 2 of Bound to a Wicked Duke

“Your dress has arrived from the modiste for this evening’s ball, My Lady, and has been laid out in your room for your approval. Your lady’s maid awaits you there.”

Madeleine nodded in gratitude and ascended the stairs to behold the modiste’s latest masterpiece. She found her lady’s maid, Lucy Brown, in the midst of drawing Madeleine a bath. “My Lady,” Lucy curtsied, then returned to her task. “Your dress for this evening’s festivities has arrived, and it is beautiful.” She gestured to where the garment had been laid out upon the bed.

“Lucy,” Madeleine returned in greeting as she moved to stand before the ball gown.

The dress was indeed lovely. The blue silk was the perfect shade to match Madeleine’s eyes and was overlaid with a delicate, white, floral lace. It would accent her new figure beautifully—one she herself had yet to accept. She had lost her childhood frumpy form, her weight melting from her neck and face and settling into her breasts and hips, sparing her waist.

Despite seeing the tempting hourglass figure in the mirror, though, she was, in her mind, still the chubby, clumsy little girl that her brother used to tease.Bacon Face.She blocked out the memory and shook her head to dissolve it.

Madeleine reached out and traced her fingers along the soft, fluttery edges of the white lace flowers, their seed pearl centers glistening in the light streaming in from her bedchamber window. “It is beautiful,” she murmured in agreement. “The modiste has outdone herself.”

Madeleine moved toward the tub, allowing Lucy to aid her in undressing, before stepping into the warm water. Settling down against the bathing sheet that lined the inside of the tub, she gave a sigh of contentment as the warmth of the water soaked into her skin. Lucy sprinkled dried flower petals of roses and lavender into the water, and the floral scents wafted up to soothe her senses further.

“How was your journey?” Lucy asked as she handed Madeleine a cloth with rose-scented soap lathered upon it.

Madeleine accepted the cloth. “I spent it in thought,” she admitted. “Father is more determined than ever to see me married, and I must thwart his efforts.”

Lucy nodded her head in understanding. “Did you decide upon a course of action?”

Madeleine shook her head. “Father has taken the choice from me. He has decided that he will determine who is best for me. He believes that he gave me the gift of choice last season and that I squandered it.” She sighed in frustration, her bath-born contentment short lived.

Lucy gave her a sympathetic look. “His Lordship chose Lady Emily’s husband, and she is now a happy viscountess. Perhaps your father will find you such a fortunate match as well.”

Madeleine shook her head. “I do not want a match at all.”

“It does not appear that you have a choice, My Lady.” Lucy’s words rang through the air and laid heavy upon Madeleine’s heart and mind. “You cannot defy your father’s wishes. It is not the way.”

“I will find a way,” Madeleine reassured herself as much as her lady’s maid. “Just because something has always been done a certain way, does not mean that it is the only right and true way to live one’s life.”

“As you say, My Lady,” Lucy replied, but there was a definite tone of doubt in her voice. Had anyone else heard Madeleine speak in such a way, it would have been viewed as blasphemy. She might even be judged to be unsound of mind. Thankfully, Lucy was discreet and would never betray her mistress’ trust.

Finishing her bath, Madeleine stepped out of the tub and allowed Lucy to towel dry her body free of moisture. Then, much to Madeleine’s annoyance, they began the tediously intricate preparations of her hair and person for the ball. The blue silk of her dress floated down around her form, settling in lovely fluid lines. Lucy bound Madeleine’s dark hair in a series of curls and small braids, weaving her mahogany tresses with flowers and pearls into a cascade of elegance. When Lucy had finished, Madeleine stood and appraised herself in the mirror.

“You are a vision of loveliness, My Lady,” Lucy proclaimed enthusiastically, her face glowing with pride.

“It will do. Thank you, Lucy,” Madeleine acknowledged with her usual measured response to her own appearance. The elegant woman she saw in the mirror did not match the image of the chubby, awkward girl inside her mind.

A knock on the door announced that it was time to leave. “Madeleine,” Cecil’s voice filtered through the door.

“Coming,” Madeleine called in reply.

Leaving her room, she met the rest of her family at the bottom of the stairs. “You look lovely, my dear,” her mother, Aurelia,smiled at her with approval. “Does she not look beautiful, George?” she inquired of the Earl, standing next to her, impatiently waiting for his children to assemble.

Madeleine’s father looked her up and down in evaluation. “Indeed,” he grunted in approval then offered his arm to his wife. “Shall we?” The Countess took her husband’s arm with a smile, and they walked out of the townhouse together.

They make a dashing pair,Madeleine thought to herself as she watched her parents interact with one another. They had been a love match, and it showed in the way that they looked at one another.

Cecil offered Madeleine his arm. “Shall we?” He mimicked their father’s straightforward tone, gave Madeleine a wink in jest, then escorted her out of the door to the waiting carriage.

The moment that Madeleine stepped into the ballroom, she could feel eyes immediately turn to gaze upon her. She wanted more than anything to hide and wait for the end of the ball, but she knew that she could not. Etiquette required her to dance with any man who asked her to as long as her dance card was not already full. To her displeasure, the man whom she wished to avoid the most came over to stand directly in front of her.

“Miss Madeleine, you are a vision of elegance,” Herbert Mowbray, firstborn son and heir to the Earl of Mowbray, greeted her as he bowed and offered her his hand. “Might I have the pleasure of the first dance?”

Madeleine opened her mouth to claim that someone else, anyone else, had the first dance, but her father intervened. “My daughter would be delighted.” The Earl of Stonefield took Madeleine’s hand and firmly placed it in Herbert’s awaiting hand. Herbert glowed with pleasure at the gesture. Her father might as well have betrothed them to one another right then and there, the way that people were looking at them. Madeleine fought back the acid retort that threatened to erupt from her lips.

Having little choice other than to follow Herbert onto the dance floor or cause a scene, Madeleine took her position across from him and curtsied. They weaved in and out around the other dancers and each other, Herbert smiling widely, and Madeleine attempting to keep a pleasant look upon her face. She thought her façade might break at any moment as he attempted to carry on a disjointed conversation.

“I have missed your company,” Mowbray informed her, attempting a charming smile.

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