Page 15 of Duke of Iron
I’m marrying a man I barely know. And worse, lying to the people I love most.
May stood atop a round pedestal at Madame Lavelle’s, a rich pale green fabric pooling around her as the modiste flitted about with pins. “It’s certainly extravagant,” she murmured, turning slightly to catch her reflection from another angle.
“Extravagant?” April repeated, laughing lightly as she settled more comfortably on the velvet chaise. “May, it’s divine. You’ll look magnificent walking down the aisle. I only wishIhad chosen that color for my wedding.”
May smiled. “You looked like a queen at your wedding. Every eye was on you.”
“And now they will all be on you,” April said.
“Precisely the problem,” June muttered, arms crossed as she stared at the array of lace and silks on display. “You’re lucky, May. At least your days of courtship are behind you. I’m quite finished with theton. Their balls. Their teas. Their judgment.”
May turned toward her sister, careful not to step on the fabric. “I’ve yet to walk down the aisle, June.”
“You’re nearly there.” June sighed, tossing a fan onto a cushion. “If only I could marry a gentleman and be done with it all. Justtake his name, not his demands. No need for poetry or pledges or anything else.”
April raised a brow. “Is that what you wish for, a marriage only in name?”
June laughed. “Not all of us dream of a grand love like May.”
May looked down at the embroidery on her bodice, her fingers brushing lightly over the stitching. She had always wished for love. She had read of it in every novel, imagined it in every dance she had never been asked to.But love is not what brought Irondale to my door.
The sisters made their way down Bond Street after leaving Madame Lavelle’s, May holding tightly to her wrapped dress as if it were a shield. As they passed a small stall of secondhand books, May slowed.
“Go on,” April said. “We’ll find the carriage.”
May paused, letting her fingers drift over the spines. She found comfort in books. They didn’t whisper.
“—had to trap him. Poor Irondale. What choice had he?”
May’s spine stiffened. She turned her head, and sure enough, three ladies of theton—Lady Penhurst, Miss Eversleigh, and the insufferable Honoria Drayton—stood just across the street, heads bent together like vultures.
“Oh, she’s buying books now. Perhaps a guide on how to become a duchess?”
Another titter. “Or how to catch a duke with a well-placed scandal.”
May’s throat tightened. Her fingers curled into fists.
Before she could speak, June was suddenly beside her. “I do beg your pardon,” she said, loud enough to carry across the cobbled street. “Were you ladies addressing my sister?”
The three froze.
“Because if you were, I should very much like to know where your audacity comes from. I was under the impression thetonstill valued civility.”
Miss Eversleigh turned bright red. “We meant no offense?—”
“Oh, I believe you meant every syllable,” June said. “And I should hope, for your sakes, that my brother never hears of this. You know how he is about family.”
The trio scrambled away, muttering their defenses before disappearing into a milliner’s shop.June turned to May and linked their arms. “Shall we?”
May nodded slowly. Her smile was faint but present. “Thank you.”
June squeezed her arm. “It’s nothing. Just say the word and I’ll send word to August.”
May laughed despite herself.
As they walked to the carriage, May looked up at the clouds rolling across the sky. What sort of life awaited her now? One of pretense? Of defending what she did not take?
Must I spend every day convincing the world that I did not trap a man who never wished to be caught?
