Page 1 of The Taming of the Duke
Chapter One
London
December 1817
Two men stoodon the edge of the ballroom and surveyed the dance floor. The younger, Lord Lucian Horton, tapped the edge of his glass in time to the music while he watched the other guests—an array of brightly colored silks, weaving to and fro in precisely formed patterns.
His gaze lingered on a young woman sitting at the opposite end of the room. In a gown of soft pink, and with honey-blonde curls arranged elaborately on her head, eyes the color of cornflowers, and delicate, elfin features, she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen.
The woman next to her was a different creature altogether. Pretty enough—or at least, she would be if she smiled—her hair was a flame-red color, as if it contained a piece of the sun.
Or the fires from hell.
Sharp, green eyes surveyed the room with an expression of disdain, as if she’d emerged from the womb, already determined to hate the world.
Lucian sipped his drink and sighed.
“Is Lady Wilton’s champagne not to your taste?” his companion asked.
“On the contrary, Horatio, Lady Wilton furnishes her guests with the best,” Lucian said, “and tonight’s no exception.”
“If it’s not the liquor that’s disappointing you, dear boy, it must be a woman. And I’ll wager I know which one.”
“You think you can read my mind?” Lucian asked.
“A man doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know how smitten you are with Miss Blanche Parville.”
There was no point in denying it. Lucian drained his glass, then gestured toward the nearest footman, who scuttled over and took the empty glass.
“Another, Lord Horton?” the footman asked.
Lucian shook his head. “I’ve had enough.”
The servant bowed and scuttled off.
“You should have another glass,” Horatio said, “if only to enable you to summon the courage to ask the delightful Blanche to dance.”
“I’ve no hope of securing a dance with Blanche while theSpinster Shrewguards her like a dog,” Lucian said.
“Ha!” Horatio cried. “You’re a coward.”
“Cowardice has nothing to do with it,” Lucian said. “Lord Parville has declared that none shall court Blanche until her older sister has secured a suitor of her own. And, given that Catherine is not only on the brink of thirty, but she’s the most unpleasant creature to have entered society since the Almighty was in leading strings, I’d wager that Hades would turn into a block of ice beforethathappened. No man would want to put up with that shrew—especially with no dowry.”
“Why do you seek to court her sister?” Horatio asked.
“Because, despite being penniless, Miss Blanche is the sweetest creature imaginable. I’m quite in love with her.”
The dance concluded, and the couples dispersed, giving Lucian a clearer view of Miss Blanche Parville.
What an exquisite creature she was! The exact opposite of the miserable-looking shrew next to her.
Perhaps now was the time to ask her to dance.
But before Lucian could make his move, another young man approached her. By the look of him, he’d indulged in too much of their host’s champagne. He swayed from side to side and extended his hand to Blanche.
A sharp voice spoke.
“No—my sister shallnotdance with you!”
