Page 22 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“He’s avoiding you,” Caroline declared when Marina joined the Clarkshires for dinner three days later. “Harold saw him at White’s yesterday, brooding over brandy with Lord Blytheton.”

Marina spent the next few days in a state of nervous anticipation. She half expected the Duke to appear at her door in renewed fury.

Yet as the days passed with no sign of him, Marina found herself oddly disappointed. Had she imagined the intensity between them? The way his body had seemed to gravitate toward hers as though drawn by some invisible force?

“I am hardly surprised,” Marina replied, accepting a glass of wine from a footman. “Our last encounter was unsettling.”

Harold raised an eyebrow. “Unsettling enough to inspire your latest literary triumph it seems. Lady Jersey was positively effusive about it at Lady Frothingham’s musicale yesterday.”

“Harold!” Caroline admonished though her eyes danced with amusement. “You promised not to tease.”

“I merely report what I observed,” Harold protested with an innocent smile. “The patroness of Almack’s declaring that she’s never read such a stirring depiction of passion in all her days is hardly something one forgets.”

Marina nearly choked on her wine, still not entirely comfortable with Harold’s knowledge of her secret occupation. Caroline had convinced her a week ago that they could trust him implicitly, and he had proven to be both discreet and supportive, often bringing her tidbits of gossip about how her stories were being received among the gentlemen at White’s.

“Lady Jersey said that?”

“Yes.” Harold’s expression grew more serious. “Though she might be less enthusiastic if she knew you were the author. You are courting disaster if the ton finds out.”

“I know.” Marina set down her glass. “But what choice do I have? Without the income from the stories?—”

“You could accept our help,” Caroline interjected. “We’ve offered before.”

Marina shook her head. “Your friendship means the world to me, but I cannot become a burden. The stories are my independence.”

“And the Duke?” Harold asked quietly. “Is he merely a subject for your pen, or is there something more?”

She didn’t know exactly what the Duke had become to her. A subject for her pen, certainly. An inspiration unlike any other to be sure. However, another feeling was also growing—a quickening pulse whenever he appeared, a reluctant fascination with the man beyond the gossip.

A week later, Mr. Lupton’s note arrived along with a larger payment than usual.

Her newest story had sold out its first printing in a single day. Ladies across London were reportedly huddled in drawing rooms, reading passages aloud behind closed doors.

Even gentlemen were secretly purchasing copies, Lupton wrote, though they claimed it was merely to understand what had their wives so flustered.

Marina should have felt triumphant. Instead, as she gazed out her window at the rain-slicked streets, she wondered if a certain duke had read her words yet—and whether he recognized himself in every line.

The next morning, Marina was surprised when Lady Jersey, a powerful patroness of Almack’s, came to see her. The elegant woman swept into Marina’s drawing room with the air of someone accustomed to being immediately accommodated.

“Lady Asquith,” she greeted, settling herself on the sofa with regal grace. “I trust I find you well?”

“Quite well, Your Ladyship.” Marina’s mind raced, trying to imagine what could have prompted this unusual visit. “May I offer you tea?”

“That would be acceptable.” Lady Jersey’s sharp eyes took in the modest but well-appointed room. “I shall come directly to the point, Lady Asquith. There has been some discussion among the patronesses regarding your vouchers for Almack’s.”

Marina’s heart sank. Almack’s vouchers were the pinnacle of social acceptance; without them, one might as well not exist in the eyes of the ton. “I see.”

“The unfortunate circumstances of your husband’s death…” Lady Jersey paused and studied Marina’s reaction. “Well, let’sjust say it has led some to question your suitability. However, I find myself inclined toward leniency, particularly since Lady Clarkshire speaks so highly of your character which weighs considerably in your favor.”

Marina relaxed slightly. “You’re most kind, My Lady.”

“Besides,” Lady Jersey continued, waving her hand dismissively, “the ton is far too preoccupied with these anonymous stories to concern themselves with old scandals. Literary developments have quite displaced the usual gossip.”

Marina nearly choked on her tea. “I beg your pardon?”

Lady Jersey waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, come now. I am not so easily shocked as some of my peers. These anonymous stories everyone is reading—they display a remarkable understanding of human nature. Particularly the more intimate aspects.” Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “The latest one, with the library scene, is being discussed in every drawing room in Mayfair.”

“Is it?” Marina managed, setting down her cup before her trembling hands could betray her.

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