Page 1
Story: His Duchess' Mischief
CHAPTER 1
“Papa,pleasedon’t do this. Why the rush for me to marry?” Alicia asked desperately.
Her father’s only response was to tug at his coat as the carriage rolled to a stop.
“Papa!”
“You are a grown woman, Alicia. Already two-and-twenty,” he said sternly. “Most of the women you debuted with got married. If you do not find someone to wed by the end of this ball, I will take the decision out of your hands. Is that clear?”
Alicia stared at him, her heart thudding as she tried to formulate a response to the injustice being inflicted on her.
“I have coddled you for too long,” her father continued. “If I had chosen your fate myself, as I did for your sister, you would no longer be a burden to me.”
Alicia held back tears as a footman climbed down from the carriage and opened the door.
She leaned forward in one final attempt to reason with him.
“Papa, I am not without suitors. Many men have courted me this Season. Would you just give me a little more time to decide?”
Her father’s cold stare met hers. “You are out of time, daughter. If you wish to have any say in your future, then play your cards carefully and choose wisely.”
Alicia gripped the bench beneath her as a snarl left her throat.
Her father did not flinch, simply stepped down from the carriage and walked up the steps to the townhouse as if he did not have a care in the world.
Alicia couldn’t move. She stared at the opposite wall of the carriage, taking in the brocade, the smooth sheen of it, and the intricacy of the design.
Nothing but the best for my father.
Her nails ached as she dug her fingers into the wooden bench, blinking away the tears of rage that threatened to fall.
If only Jane were here.
Her older sister had long endured the brunt of their father’s whims. She, too, had been forced into a marriage, but thanks to her gentle nature, Jane and the Marquess of Riverton had, in time, found quiet happiness together.
Alicia scowled.
But I am not my sister.
The two of them could not have been more different. Jane was reserved, quiet, and poised. Alicia loved to enjoy life, laugh, feel deeply and passionately.
She had believed she would have a reprieve after Jane’s marriage—that she might be given some peace from the relentless marriage mart.
How wrong that assumption was.
Alicia glanced out the carriage window. The bright lights of the ball ahead flooded the streets. A high shriek of laughter echoed through the night, and the rumble of voices grew louder as the guests mingled and ascended the steps ahead of her.
What would Papa do if I simply commanded the carriage to take me back home?
But she was not so naïve. Her father’s servants did his bidding, not hers. He was the master of the house, and if she were to attempt to command them, they would simply ignore her.
With bitterness growing in her chest, she rose, forcing herself to climb out before she changed her mind.
As she stepped down into the street, she felt the spiking points of gravel underfoot and heard the snort of the horses, the scent of their sweat rising in the night air.
It was late April, but the weather had turned chilly, and the heavy clouds that had burdened the sky the last week had cleared to reveal a shimmering network of stars above her head.
She shivered.
“Papa,pleasedon’t do this. Why the rush for me to marry?” Alicia asked desperately.
Her father’s only response was to tug at his coat as the carriage rolled to a stop.
“Papa!”
“You are a grown woman, Alicia. Already two-and-twenty,” he said sternly. “Most of the women you debuted with got married. If you do not find someone to wed by the end of this ball, I will take the decision out of your hands. Is that clear?”
Alicia stared at him, her heart thudding as she tried to formulate a response to the injustice being inflicted on her.
“I have coddled you for too long,” her father continued. “If I had chosen your fate myself, as I did for your sister, you would no longer be a burden to me.”
Alicia held back tears as a footman climbed down from the carriage and opened the door.
She leaned forward in one final attempt to reason with him.
“Papa, I am not without suitors. Many men have courted me this Season. Would you just give me a little more time to decide?”
Her father’s cold stare met hers. “You are out of time, daughter. If you wish to have any say in your future, then play your cards carefully and choose wisely.”
Alicia gripped the bench beneath her as a snarl left her throat.
Her father did not flinch, simply stepped down from the carriage and walked up the steps to the townhouse as if he did not have a care in the world.
Alicia couldn’t move. She stared at the opposite wall of the carriage, taking in the brocade, the smooth sheen of it, and the intricacy of the design.
Nothing but the best for my father.
Her nails ached as she dug her fingers into the wooden bench, blinking away the tears of rage that threatened to fall.
If only Jane were here.
Her older sister had long endured the brunt of their father’s whims. She, too, had been forced into a marriage, but thanks to her gentle nature, Jane and the Marquess of Riverton had, in time, found quiet happiness together.
Alicia scowled.
But I am not my sister.
The two of them could not have been more different. Jane was reserved, quiet, and poised. Alicia loved to enjoy life, laugh, feel deeply and passionately.
She had believed she would have a reprieve after Jane’s marriage—that she might be given some peace from the relentless marriage mart.
How wrong that assumption was.
Alicia glanced out the carriage window. The bright lights of the ball ahead flooded the streets. A high shriek of laughter echoed through the night, and the rumble of voices grew louder as the guests mingled and ascended the steps ahead of her.
What would Papa do if I simply commanded the carriage to take me back home?
But she was not so naïve. Her father’s servants did his bidding, not hers. He was the master of the house, and if she were to attempt to command them, they would simply ignore her.
With bitterness growing in her chest, she rose, forcing herself to climb out before she changed her mind.
As she stepped down into the street, she felt the spiking points of gravel underfoot and heard the snort of the horses, the scent of their sweat rising in the night air.
It was late April, but the weather had turned chilly, and the heavy clouds that had burdened the sky the last week had cleared to reveal a shimmering network of stars above her head.
She shivered.
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