Page 4
Story: His Duchess' Mischief
As she stared up at him, she found no hint of emotion on his face. He was closed off, austere, and aloof, looking over her head at the crowd, appearing almost bored.
Alicia shuddered as, without even glancing at her, his large hand came to rest on the small of her back and the other gripped her fingers, before they began gliding across the floor.
She had not danced with anyone so tall before, and it was liberating to feel the command of her steps taken from her. Many men she had danced with were less sure-footed than this gentleman—he was by far the most confident dancer she had ever known.
“Your father is the Earl of Pembrook, is he not?” he asked after one full turn about the floor. He still did not look at her.
“Y-Yes,” she managed, cursing herself for how uncertain she sounded.
“How old are you?”
Alicia blanched.
The impertinence.
“Old enough to know that it is not polite to ask a lady for her age.”
Finally, he glanced at her, his jaw tightening a little as he moved them in a slow circle. “Answer the question.”
Alicia’s lips thinned as she glared at him. “I am two-and-twenty.”
“And your mother passed away, correct?”
“I beg your pardon, Sir?” she sputtered, wondering whether he would even feel it if she stomped on his foot.
“Your father said you were his only unmarried daughter.”
“M-My father?”
“Are you not familiar with him?” he asked, a smirk crossing his face. “If youaremarried, you should not have agreed to dance with me.”
Alicia huffed irritably. “Agreedto it, My Lord? I do not remember you asking, merely commanding me to accompany you.”
“Your Grace.”
“I am sorry?” she asked, alarmed.
“I am the Duke of Radcliffe,” he said, looking down at her, his eyes hard and lifeless as they bored into hers. “You will address me as such.”
CHAPTER 2
Alicia’s fingers tightened as her anger flared.
“It is a shame that titles are not earned the way respect is,Your Grace,for there are many things I would prefer to call you.”
“When you become my Duchess, you will have very little choice in the matter,” he said, his low voice rumbling like a death knell.
Alicia’s whole body began to tremble as the dance ended and her partner stepped back, his lips curled into a grimace. It was condescending and pitiless, as if she were entirely unimportant.
“What did you just say to me?” she demanded, a sickening dread slamming through her.
“I will be your husband, Lady Alicia. It is all arranged. I suggest you begin to show me the respect you so clearly desire.”
And then he walked away.
Alicia seethed, standing in a room full of strangers, staring after a man who, with a few words, had robbed her of her liberty.
“Excuse me, My Lady.”
Alicia shuddered as, without even glancing at her, his large hand came to rest on the small of her back and the other gripped her fingers, before they began gliding across the floor.
She had not danced with anyone so tall before, and it was liberating to feel the command of her steps taken from her. Many men she had danced with were less sure-footed than this gentleman—he was by far the most confident dancer she had ever known.
“Your father is the Earl of Pembrook, is he not?” he asked after one full turn about the floor. He still did not look at her.
“Y-Yes,” she managed, cursing herself for how uncertain she sounded.
“How old are you?”
Alicia blanched.
The impertinence.
“Old enough to know that it is not polite to ask a lady for her age.”
Finally, he glanced at her, his jaw tightening a little as he moved them in a slow circle. “Answer the question.”
Alicia’s lips thinned as she glared at him. “I am two-and-twenty.”
“And your mother passed away, correct?”
“I beg your pardon, Sir?” she sputtered, wondering whether he would even feel it if she stomped on his foot.
“Your father said you were his only unmarried daughter.”
“M-My father?”
“Are you not familiar with him?” he asked, a smirk crossing his face. “If youaremarried, you should not have agreed to dance with me.”
Alicia huffed irritably. “Agreedto it, My Lord? I do not remember you asking, merely commanding me to accompany you.”
“Your Grace.”
“I am sorry?” she asked, alarmed.
“I am the Duke of Radcliffe,” he said, looking down at her, his eyes hard and lifeless as they bored into hers. “You will address me as such.”
CHAPTER 2
Alicia’s fingers tightened as her anger flared.
“It is a shame that titles are not earned the way respect is,Your Grace,for there are many things I would prefer to call you.”
“When you become my Duchess, you will have very little choice in the matter,” he said, his low voice rumbling like a death knell.
Alicia’s whole body began to tremble as the dance ended and her partner stepped back, his lips curled into a grimace. It was condescending and pitiless, as if she were entirely unimportant.
“What did you just say to me?” she demanded, a sickening dread slamming through her.
“I will be your husband, Lady Alicia. It is all arranged. I suggest you begin to show me the respect you so clearly desire.”
And then he walked away.
Alicia seethed, standing in a room full of strangers, staring after a man who, with a few words, had robbed her of her liberty.
“Excuse me, My Lady.”
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