Page 1 of The Duke's Spinster

Chapter One

This is whatit must feel like to be drunk. If not drunk, exactly, then definitely a little…tingly. Lady Boudicca had never been drunk before, but surely, this fuzzy feeling must be part of it. There must have been something in the tepid lemonade because, of all the four sisters in the Rochester clan, Boudicca would never have taken a drink of her own volition.

Artemisia, her youngest sister? Yes. The third youngest, Joan? Probably. Zenobia, second in line? Probably not. Boudicca? Definitely not. And they all knew it.

It was one of the reasons why she could almost be their chaperone. That, and she was six-and-twenty years of age now. A veritable spinster. Men hadn’t cast glances at her since, well, since she’d been shelved at the ripe old age of three-and-twenty. And they still weren’t looking tonight.

“Nobi, stop ogling Christopher,” Joan nudged her sister. “You do realize that you’re not discreet about it.”

Zenobia blushed.

“She can’t help it. She’s in love,” Artemisia drawled the last word as only the baby of the family could do.

Boudicca took another sip of the bland lemonade.

“You do realize that the lemonade is spiked, Bodi.” Artemisia held up her glass and gulped it down.

Blame the drink or her bad mood, but Boudicca did not hold herself responsible for her petulant response, “Don’t call me that ridiculous name. There are no ladies with such a vulgar name.”

“There are no ladies with our names at all. Blame our parents for that one.”

“It was mostly Father. What with his love for battle strategy. Do you really believe Mother would have chosen these warrior names for her dainty daughters?”Daintywould have sounded sarcastic if it hadn’t dripped from Joan’s lips.

“Just let her be, Mimi. Bodi—I mean Boudicca—is obviously in a poor temperament.” Zenobia patted Boudicca’s forearm and gave each of the bookended sisters a knowing glance.

“You’re right.” Artemisia smiled. “But just because you’re happily in love, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

The red in Zenobia’s cheeks returned. “I wouldn’t quite sayhappy. Orlove.”

Artemisia blew a raspberry with her lips.

“Mimi,” Boudicca hissed.

“Please. She’s halfway down the aisle.” If they hadn’t been in a ballroom, Boudicca would have expected Artemisia to stick out her tongue. Never mind, they were in a ballroom, and Mimi still managed to stick out her tongue.

Zenobia shook her head. “There won’t be any aisle.”

“Well, not if you don’t make a move. He’s too slow to see—”

“He’s not slow.”

“All right, he’s too…much of a man”—Artemisia eyed Zenobia for approval on her verbal amendment—“to notice you pining after him. You’re going to have to be the one who makes the first move.”

Zenobia scoffed. “That’s never going to happen.”

“You can’t be timid. This is your life, Zenobia, you have to do something.”

Boudicca had heard it all before. It was no secret that Zenobia was in love with their brother’s best friend, Christopher, the Duke of Saxby. But, as with all the times before, she was too much of a lady to do anything about it.

“She’s right, Nobi.” Joan was huddling the sisters. “This is your life. Don’t you want to be married to him?”

Zenobia chewed on her bottom lip. “I do.” She took a sip of lemonade, which, Boudicca realized now she should be denying her sisters. “But I don’t see how that’s going to happen.”

“It’s easy.” Artemisia stood, battle ready. She could have had one hand waving a tribe flag in the air, or raising a spear, or blowing a trumpet. Thankfully no said props were readily at hand. “I dare you to tell him how you feel.”

Zenobia gasped. “I couldn’t.”

“What are we, twelve?” Boudicca had to step in. This was moving past ridiculous into scandalous.

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