Page 1 of Taken By the Broken Duke
CHAPTER ONE
THE MARLINGFORD BALL
Ahead of fiery red hair, caught up in bouncing curls, surrounded a pale, delicate face with verdant eyes.
Juliet Semphill at thirteen years old already stood as tall as most ladies in attendance. Her dress was simple shades of green silk to compliment her coloring. She wore no jewelry but most didn’t notice, so startling was the shade of her eyes and hair. She stood in a corner of the study, surrounded by three stern-faced men.
A woman sat in a corner of the same room. The shoulder of her dress was torn and she was weeping, hands over her face. Her hair was coal black and lustrous, her gown flowed over the generous lines of her body. Juliet looked from one stern strange face to another, wide-eyed and frightened.
“Tell us what you saw, girl,” muttered Duncan Kimberley, the Duke of Marlingford.
He towered over her and the other two men. His hair was iron gray and his face, Roman and patrician. His broad shoulders had taken on a slump as he had entered old age but were still wide. His stomach was bound tightly behind a buttoned coat. Juliet looked at him and swallowed, licking her lips, trying to find the words.
The issue was that she did notknowwhat she had seen.
The home of the Duke and Duchess of Marlingford was large, even palatial and she had wanted to explore, find a quiet corner to rest from the pitying eyes of strangers. She had wandered hallways and rooms until she opened a door to a darkened study and saw…
“Damn it, girl! Do not be disobedient. My daughter was assaulted and you were a witness!” Marlingford boomed, raising his voice.
“Juliet. You must tell us,” coaxed his son, Hugh Kimberley, the Viscount Chalford.
Hugh’s wife was the woman crying in the corner. Not a daughter to Marlingford by birth, simply by marriage. Hugh Kimberley was a pale shadow of his father. Slighter in frame and height with brown hair that seemed thinner than the silver mane his father sported. Neither man noticed Meredith Kimberley looking over at the interrogation between the fingers of her hands. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and there was a bruise rising on one cheek. But the look she directed at the questioning was cool and calculating.
“I was… I was exploring,” Juliet began haltingly, “I wanted to look around this fine house.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Get on with it,” Marlingford barked.
“I didn’t know where I was going or where I was. I opened a door and there was a scream. I saw Lady Chalford on the floor and a man standing over her,” Juliet stammered.
“The man was assaulting her?” Hugh Kimberley demanded, his voice growing strident.
“Would you recognize him?” Marlingford put in at the same time.
“Do you know who he was?” said the third man, who had not yet spoken. He was thin with hollow cheeks and veins bulging on the backs of his hands. Sir Graham Randalph MP, a member of the government and friend of the Duke of Marlingford.
At that moment the door to the study opened and a tall, willowy woman burst in. She had hair as fiery and red as Juliet. A dark beauty spot occupied a prominent space high on her right cheek. It was painted not unlike the similar spot on Juliet’s left cheek. A man followed her, very much in her shadow. He had neither her height nor presence. His stomach was a circle that was barely held in check by his dress clothes, as were his chins.
“May I ask what is going on here?” Margaret Godwin demanded in a voice as clear as a bell. She directed her attention toMarlingford, “Your Grace, that is my niece. What trouble has she gotten herself into now?”
Her gray eyes were hard upon her niece, finding fault and blame before their owner knew anything of the circumstances. Marlingford looked from Margaret to Juliet and took a deliberate step backward. His son licked his lips and followed suit, as did Sir Graham. Juliet found herself standing behind an invisible moat which the three men were now apparently unwilling to cross.
“Aunt Margaret…” she began.
“Do not Aunt Margaret me, young lady! You were allowed to attend on the condition that you would be on your best behavior. Now what do I find?”
“She is the daughter of the Baroness of Larkhill?” Marlingford asked, taking another backward step and wiping his hands on the front of his coat.
“She is. My sister’s daughter and only child,” Margaret replied, haughtily.
Juliet looked at the widening circle of men who, until a moment ago, had been so frightening. Now she saw the fear in their eyes and knew its cause. As much as she wanted to be out of that room, she felt dismay at their reasoning for backing away.
“It isn’t catching, you know,” she said quietly, looking at the floor, “my mother’s illness, I mean. You can be in the same room. Breathe the same air—”
“Hold your tongue, child!” Margaret interrupted.
“Apologies, Your Grace. She wasn’t always like this,” Gilbert Godwin hastily added.
“Your niece is a witness to a grievous offense committed against me,” Meredith sobbed.
