Page 1 of A Bride for the Wicked Duke

ChapterOne

"My brother will kill me if he finds out what we have planned for later tonight,” Lady Rosalind Emerton said, already showing signs of panic that threatened to give the game away long before it even began.

“Do not worry about your brother,” Lady Aurelia Hawkins assured her. “If everything goes as I suspect it too, he will never find out.”

“But what if he does?” Rosalind continued, her voice rising. “I have never done anything like this before. And for good reason!”

“Will you keep it down,” Aurelia hissed, widening her eyes in warning at her best friend. She loved Rosalind like a sister, but sometimes the woman could frustrate her to no end. “For now, there is no reason to worry. But if you speak any louder, I dare say the king himself will be able to hear you.”

Rosalind bit into her lip, her brow furrowed tightly. No indication at all that she intended to soften her tone or relax. “I am sorry, Aurelia. Truly, I am. And I know that I am not helping the matter. I just think there must be another way. I mean, to sneak into London on our own and --”

“Rosalind!” Aurelia cried, this time far louder than she intended. That had her grimacing, for she did not wish to draw any attention to herself or her friend. That simply would not do. She lowered her voice and took Rosalind by the hand. “All I ask is that you trust me. Can you do that.”

“I... I do,” she said, not sounding as if she meant it. “Only --”

“No, no,” Aurelia cut over her. “We are through discussing this. Later, once we are alone, you may voice your concerns. For now, please keep them to yourself, lest we are found out.”

“Later?” Rosalind whined. “But... but... but later will be too late. By then we will be on our way, by which point there will be no chance of us changing our minds.”

To that, Aurelia grinned wickedly. “Exactly.”

Rosalind was still looking panicked, but she tried to mask it by snacking on some sweet meats which lined the trays of food on the table where the two girls were hovering. It was a buffet of treats and delicious snacks, a bevy of temptation which ordinarily Aurelia would have happily succumbed to. She was always partial to a snack, after all.

Not right now. Rosalind’s last-minute objections likely went unnoticed, but just in case her exasperated cries carried further than intended...

Acting as casually as she could, Aurelia sipped at the glass of wine which she was carrying, casting her gaze across the ball room in search of the one person whom she was desperate to have not been noticed or heard by. The Tyrant of Grayhill Manor, she whose entire life seemed dedicated to bringing upon Aurelia woe and misery and torment unlike any other. Her mother, of course.

Aurelia laughed softly at the parable, aware that these things she said of her mother were not reflective of her true feelings toward the woman, merely an exaggeration, often made necessary because despite the bonds of love which joined them, they both had a unique tendency to be at one another’s throats more often than not. Such was the state of their mother-daughter relationship.

Thankfully, she found her mother within seconds, sighing with relief to see that she was currently occupied with Aurelia’s younger sister, Eveline. Having just turned eighteen, Eveline was a debutant this Season, this here was her first outing, and their mother was dedicating every fragment of her energy to ensuring that her rowdy, often troublesome daughter made a good impression.Good luck with that...

Was it not for her need to speak with Rosalind about what they intended later this evening, Aurelia might have skipped coming here tonight entirely. And that wasn’t to say she did not enjoy balls and galas, rather that she had no interest in using them for their intended purpose: to meet a lord who might court and then one day marry her.No thank you very much.

Indeed, had she been so inclined, there was a vast selection of would-be suitors parading about the ball room in a manner that spoke loudly to their intentions. Dressed in smart suits. Chins pointed in the air. Chests puffed out. Aurelia rolled her eyes as she watched one rather stocky lord whom she did not know approach a lady in a yellow gown, taking her hand and kissing it, saying something which had the lady giggling and slapping playfully at his chest. It was all just so fake, she felt. Choreographed and theatrical. But then again, wasn’t all romance this way? In Aurelia’s brief experience, it was.

“Oh, no...” From beside her, Aurelia heard her friend gasp in fright.

“What?” Aurelia whipped her head about to find Rosalind’s face paling and chin wobbling. “Rosalind? What is wrong.”

“My brother,” Rosalind said. “He is... he is... he is coming this way.”

“Your brother?” Aurelia turned to see where Rosalind was looking, caught sight immediately of her brother coming their way, and felt her stomach drop because she sensed the inherent danger that his presence might bring. “Oh...”

His Grace, the Duke of Sutherford was a man who Aurelia knew reasonably well, having been friends with his sister for most of her life. He was a tall, dashing specimen with a thick heard of brown hair that clashed brilliantly with his sharp blue eyes, and square features that made him look as if he had been carved from stone.

Not that she ever cared much for these shallow desires, and his being Rosalind’s older brother meant that she had little to do with him growing up. What she did know… well, it was enough to convince her from a young age not to waste her time on the man.

He was simply too perfect. A true gentleman, he was liked by all and admired by everyone. She had never heard a bad word said about him. She had never heard even a whisper of negativity or a question concerning his most perfect reputation. This, Aurelia had always thought, to be rather suspicious, as nobody was without a darker side, which meant that he could not be trusted. Better that she have nothing to do with him at all.

“What if he finds out,” Rosalind said nervously. “What if he --”

“He will not,” Aurelia assured her as she watched His Grace come for them. He walked with a confident stride and a knowing smirk, the journey toward them taking longer than it should have as nearly everyone whom he passed wished to shake his hand and make their greetings. And the duke, ever willing to please and acknowledge, was only too happy to return the greetings. “Just act normal, Rosalind. And say nothing.”

Rosalind had a half-finished sweet meat in her hand, but she seemed to have forgotten it. “I will do my best.”

“I suppose that will have to --”

“Good evening, ladies,” the duke said as he reached them, stopping only a few feet away. “I thought it was you two who I spied hiding back here.”

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