Page 20 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“I can only see one solution and it is far from desirable. But it will prevent scandal from enveloping our good family name. Frances will be devastated, and it is all your fault!”
“Frances?” Juliet choked out, “What has any of this to do with her?”
“Because she will have to marry him of course!” Aunt Margaret shrilled, “to show that our families are allied and to neuter this scandal before it can gain momentum. Gilbert, you will need to speak to the duke and ensure that he knows what is expected of him,” she said.
Gilbert nodded and opened his mouth, but Aunt Margaret was still in full flow.
“We might salvage something from this mess. The Templeton fortune is considerable, I believe, and the name is an ancient one. I understand there is property in France as well, earned in the service of the Black Prince, no less.”
Now the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place for Juliet.
There was a gleam in Aunt Margaret’s eyes as she spoke that gave the lie to her anger. She was not trying to salvage a bad situation at all, but taking advantage of it. She was actually, in fact,pleased,at this opportunity to marry her daughter to a wealthy Duke. But she could not admit that. Could not give credit to Juliet. She had to make sure that her niece was wracked with guilt and convince her that Frances was making the ultimate sacrifice to make up for Juliet’s behavior.
Juliet felt a wave of crushing jealousy wash over her. Of course the Duke would accept. It was the only plausible way for him to avoid an even greater scandal. One that might have the Dukedom itself put in jeopardy after his already besmirched character. He had told her that he felt a duty to restore his name. Restore it after Juliet, herself, had helped to destroy it. Now, he would be forced into marriage against his will, and all because of her.
There came a knock at the door. Uncle Gilbert hardly had the chance to open it before it burst from its hinges and Ravenscourt strode into the room with the force of a typhoon. Juliet sat up quickly, making her head spin. She tried to rise even further, but her arms lacked the strength to push her up. The Duke raised a hand.
“Do not bother getting up, Miss Semphill. I know now why you lied about your given name. You knew that I would not entertain your company if I knew who you were. And you would be absolutely right about that.”
Juliet opened her mouth to speak, but those final words crushed her lungs and stole any and all words from her mouth. Her heart sank.
“However, I find myself in a predicament where I must tolerate it. Lady Margaret, to avoid further scandal inflicted upon both our families, I believe marriage is the only solution. Do you agree?”
Lady Margaret raised her chin, twisting her head away. “As it happens, I can see no alternative. My daughter, Frances, is a noblewoman who—”
“Thank you, that is all I asked,” Horatio snapped, silencing Margaret instantly. “I shall marry your ill-bred niece. It will quell the flames of scandal by making it seem we were lovers. When the gossips have moved on, the marriage shall be quietly annulled. I will even provide your niece with a house in which she can live quietly and secretly away from the ton’s scrutiny. I will make all the necessary arrangements myself. Lord Gilbert, I trust I have your consent?”
“Ah, well—” Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but Horatio slammed a hand against his shoulder.
“Very good. You may remain as my guests for as long as you desire. I will set the wheels in motion. I want this done within a fortnight. Good day to you all.”
He swept from the room, with the ferocity in which he entered—without so much as sparing a glance at Juliet.
CHAPTER TEN
“Julie—”
Horatio came awake with Juliet’s name on his lips. He lay in his bed, sheets and blankets discarded. His bedroom window was ajar and rain sleeted in, soaking his pale cheekbones. For a long moment, he lay staring at the ceiling. There had been a dream, rapidly fading from his mind. The feel of that woman’s naked body was almost tangible. The taste of her still lingered in his mouth.
Who was this woman who could deceive him so, yet inveigle herself so thoroughly into his thoughts? What manner of seductress was she?
At this moment, the siren was in the guest wing of Ravenscourt. Her Aunt occupied a suite of rooms on the next floor, demanding nothing less than the finest chambers Ravenscourt possessed. Her husband and youngest had returned to their home, but Lady Margaret had steadfastly refused to allow her niece to remain at Ravenscourt alone.
A hand swiped across his face to smother the damp rainwater, and Horatio rose, walking across the wet floor to shut the window.
The dream haunted him. So vivid. Soreal.
“You belligerent fool,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Always craving the affections of those who betrayed you.From your father, to this manipulative chit—”
As he reached into the chilly summer night air to close the window, his hand paused mid-motion. A light, faint and wavering through the veil of falling droplets, caught his eye. It was below the level on which his personal quarters were located. He could not see the window from which the light spilled directly, merely the faint glow of orange that spilled onto a courtyard below.
The dim light illuminated the edge of the garden where a fox padded cautiously through the unkempt shrubs that had been allowed to run wild on the land. Its pointed ears twitched, and it lifted its muzzle, sniffing the air towards the light. As Horatio watched, it leaped gracefully, jaws snapping to catch something tossed down from above. Chewing and swallowing its prize, the creature settled back on its haunches, patient and expectant. Moments later, the pattern repeated—a toss, a leap, and a catch.
Horatio leaned against the cool stone of the window embrasure, observing with detached curiosity. Perhaps one of his kitchen staff was feeding the creature—or someone else with a penchantfor strays. He shook his head, amused, and turned to retreat from the window.
But then a sound stopped him. A soft, feminine hum, carried on the breeze. He frowned, glancing back out. The fox had vanished. The sound came again, almost a whisper, light and lilting. His pulse quickened as he scanned the darkened garden and, finding no source there, let his gaze rise. And then he saw it.
Her.
