Page 1 of My Secret Duke
Prologue
1818, Summer, London
Lady Olivia Ashton slipped through the door at the back of the room, closing it softly behind her. The Elphinstones’ musical evening wasn’t the most exciting engagement she had attended since her coming-out ball in May, but she was wearing one of her new, fashionable dresses with a nice string of pearls about her neck. She looked well, she was admired, and after the long years of living neglected at Grantham, that really should have been enough.
Instead, she was on her way to another clandestine rendezvous with Ivo Fitzsimmons, Duke of Northam.
Olivia had danced with him many times now, and looked forward to dancing many more. She watched out for him, and felt disappointed if he wasn’t present. He was handsome and charming and paid her extravagant compliments, but exciting as her interactions with him were, she had come to realize he was also the very last person she should be setting her cap at.
This was Olivia’s first time in London. Her Season had been delayed, firstly by her father’s death, which left them with crushing debts, and then by the revelation that the true heir to the estate—the new Duke of Grantham—was gambling club owner Gabriel Cadieux, meaning the futures of Olivia and her five sisters were in his hands.Despite their difficult beginning, Olivia had grown to trust and love Gabriel, who was doing his best to bring the Grantham estate back from the brink of financial disaster. But the scandal hadn’t helped Olivia’s acceptance by the ton.
Olivia had never had to worry about the propriety or lack thereof of her behavior, and it was only now, when things were very different, that she realized how sheltered she had been at Grantham. Here in London, she needed to be the perfect debutante if she was to win over polite society, for her own sake and that of her sisters—it felt unfair, but because she was the eldest, her actions would affect their lives as well as her own. Especially the younger sisters, because the Ashton finances could only stretch so far. A good marriage for Olivia was imperative, and the Duke of Northam was not “good marriage” material. For all he was so handsome and charming, he seemed determined to lead her into even more scandal. And Olivia was finding it difficult to resist him.
Northam was not your ordinary brand of nobleman. He was notorious for his irresponsible behavior, and it was said that nothing was beyond him when it came to winning a wager. His financial situation was, if not quite dire, certainly verging into that territory. He wasnotthe sort of gentleman Olivia should be encouraging.
And yet ever since he had danced with her at her coming-out ball, she had not been able to forget him.
She looked up. He was standing at the top of the staircase, leaning his elegant self negligently against the bannister. His corn-colored hair was a little long, and his green eyes sparkled in a mischievous manner.
“There you are,” he said. “I was about to start without you.”
He was teasing her, but she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of winning.Again.
She should never have boasted to him about her proficiency at the game of billiards. The subject had come up shortly after her coming-out ball, and she had said something like “I am accounted as quite the expert among my sisters.” He had responded that he too was an expert. Before she knew it, he had dared her to play him, and was leading her away from the ballroom and into a billiard room, where he had proceeded to trounce her.
The next time they met, he challenged her to another game, and this time, she won. Perhaps his male pride was piqued, because ever since then, he had been inviting her to take part in a third game. To establish the overall winner.
So far, she had resisted, until tonight when she found her resistance considerably weakened. The musical evening was tedious, the company boring, and she had admitted to herself that nothing here was as exciting as the Duke of Northam.
She began to climb the stairs.
“I think you will find that thrashing your sisters at billiards is not the same as playing a master like me,” he said, words designed to incite her into another foolish act.
Olivia glared while at the same time her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “I thinkyou will find yourself completely outclassed, Your Grace.”
He chuckled as he opened a door to a dark-paneled room, and said, “Why will you not call me Ivo? Surely we are more than mere acquaintances.”
Olivia flicked him a glance as she moved to the green baize table. “Are we?”
The door closed behind her, and her heart gave a littlejump, but Ivo was already reaching for one of the cues and handing it to her with his wicked grin. “Of course. We are friends, are we not?”
The thought warmed her inside. She had never had a male friend, apart from her brother, although Ivo’s smile wasn’t what she would call brotherly. He flirted with her, which, unlike billiards, was a game she had little experience in, but despite being out of her depth, she greatly enjoyed their lighthearted banter.
“I hope so,” she said, feeling color warm her cheeks.
He smiled absently, as if he had already forgotten the question, and set about preparing for their game. He tucked his hair back—the wayward curls had fallen into his eyes—and shrugged off his tightly fitting jacket with a purposeful air. “Last time was beginner’s luck,” he said.
Olivia laughed scathingly. “Admit it,Ivo, I am the better player.”
His green eyes narrowed as he put cue to ball. But rather than taking the shot, he suddenly straightened. “If you are so certain of yourself, Olivia, why don’t we make a wager on the outcome?”
“A… a wager?” Did he not know the Ashton girls were paupers? Her grandmother had impressed upon her only this morning that in such circumstances, she must find a wealthy match so that her sisters could partake in her good fortune.
“Why yes!” He stepped closer and smiled down at her. Olivia was not tall, and he topped her by several inches. “What shall it be?” He pretended to think, tapping one elegant finger against his chin. “A kiss!”
Olivia stepped back, eyes wide with shock. “Your Grace, I don’t think—” she began, but at the same time, there was a flutter in her chest. Was he trying to seduce her?
“On the cheek,” he amended. “A peck on the cheek between friends.”
