Page 1 of The Duke's Vice

CHAPTER 1

Beatrice wrinkled her nose as the smell of stale ale and sweat filled her nostrils. She picked up her skirts to step over what she hoped was a sleeping man.

She let out a sigh of relief when the man didn’t stir when her heel landed next to his head. She didn’t know if she should stop and check on him or if she should continue on her mission. With a quick look around she noticed the square was becoming more crowded as the night dragged on. She was running out of time.

With one last look at the man she heard a soft snore escape through his lips.

“Oh, thank God, he’s just lost to his cups.” Beatrice gathered her skirts and skittered to darkened alley in between two rows of rundown homes.

She leaned up against one wall to settle her nerves. She tugged at her sleeves and felt the familiar square of paper tucked into herright cuff. Knowing it was there gave her the courage to sneak out during the midnight hours on her journey.

Beatrice peeked around the corner and squinted, trying to read the numbers on the buildings. Her mother always warned her against reading in dim light, she cautioned Beatrice it would lead to bad eye sight.

Beatrice chuckled to herself.

Her mother would lose herself to fits of apoplexy if she knew where her youngest daughter was. She was brought up to be a shining diamond in polite society. Her etiquette and elocution lessons were designed to make her the most desirable and respectful woman a Duke’s money could afford.

She looked down at the dark clothing she wore and her now muddied shoes. Well, at least her late father’s money could afford her new clothes. Hopefully, her brother-in-law, the new Duke of Graynor would allow her a small allowance for new shoes.

After making sure no one was paying attention to her, she slipped back out into the main square to find the building number that was written on the piece of paper safely tucked in her cuff. She had a moment’s thought to take the paper out and look at it, but it would prove pointless. She could recite the address under immense duress. She had no doubt of her memorization of the address, she had been staring at it for the past 48 hours, ever since she caught wind of the party and her plan took shape.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, going with the flow to not cause any unwanted attention to herself. She only lifted her head to quickly look at the numbers on the buildings before she dipped her head again to conceal herself within her hood.

People began filtering through random doors, some had a man standing in front of them, others were unguarded.

Her fingers itched to pull out the paper to look at the address again but she didn’t want to risk losing it. Besides, she knew the address by heart.112 Water Street.

“108, 110…” she whispered as she passed each door. She came to a stop where 112 should have been, but instead of a building she found an empty lot.

She looked back to the thinning crowd and unease crept up her spine. With a crowded street this area didn’t seem too untoward but as the people dispersed into buildings and the streets emptied, she began to see why the area was known as a part of the slums.

Beatrice shook off the nerves and turned to head further down the street when she rammed into a wall.

A wall with arms.

Beatrice looked up, and up, and up some more, until her eyes finally met the annoyed ones of a man much taller than her.

“My apologies, good sir. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

A corner of the man’s mouth quirked up. He was wearing a mask that covered his eyes leaving a sharp nose and strong jaw on display. She had seen several masks as she made her way down the road. Beatrice ran through the directions she was given by her maid, at no time was she told she would need a mask. Hopefully, he was not going to the same party she was.

“Good man?” The man laughed. His eyes drank her in causing her to blush. “You are obviously in the wrong part of town if you think anyone here is good.”

Beatrice huffed and pulled her coat tighter around her. “My mistake.” She dipped her head and took a step to the side. The brute of a man matched her step.

“Isn’t it a bit late for you to be out? Shouldn’t you be tucked away in your warm bed by now, dreaming of white nights and ivory towers?” The man’s voice teased.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, though she doubted the man could see them with her hood pulled over her.

“I’m of no concern of yours, sir. Now, let me pass or else I shall scream.”

As if called on cue, a scream sounded from behind her startling her. She jumped at the sound and found herself clinging to the man in front of her.

His hands seemed to react on instinct and held her towards his body. The scream had melted into a fit of feminine giggles.

Beatrice realized her hood had fallen in her haste when she looked back up to the man.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… the scream startled me.” The words tumbled from Beatrice’s lips. She had read many books of midnight dalliances with strange men. She often wondered how she would react if she ever caught herself in a similar situation.

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