Page 2 of A Virgin for the Duke of Depravity (Ton’s Beasts #2)

The estate loomed in front of her, each window illuminated, but few showing signs of movement.

Margaret felt compelled to stare at the place where her mother had grown up, a place far nicer than the convent she herself had been sent to.

The stone walls towered, and she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets the estate held.

What would life have been like if I had grown up here with the Earl?

Her mother had told her of the times he had locked her in her chambers, sending servants with meager rations of bread and clean water for days on end when he was displeased—and hearing her tell it, he was always displeased.

Tentatively, Margaret took a few steps toward the stone pillars with the statuettes on the corners. Her stomach lurched with nervous anticipation, not sure what would happen if she got any closer. She took one more heavy step closer to the front door, but stopped at the threshold.

Margaret reached out as if to run her fingers over the face of the statue closest to her. The stone was smooth and cool beneath her fingertips.

The fog rolling in from the London streets made it hard to see what awaited her if she kept going. Squinting into the distance, she tried to discern whether she could safely look and edge just a little closer.

She hadn’t intended to come here when she left the convent to visit her best friend, Theresa, in London. But it was as if her feet had brought her here of their own accord. She asked for directions from her friend, who gave them to her with a furrowed brow but no questions asked.

Still, she had come to this estate against her better judgment. She was now on the threshold, ready to walk up the path to the front door. Turning back was the smarter option, she knew, especially when the front door flew open.

“Why are you outside my home?”

She had expected that a servant would notice her and inquire whether she was here to visit the Earl. She could have easily feigned being lost in the unfamiliar city. But it was not a servant who greeted her at the door.

She’d come too close, dared too much, and now she had let him see her.

Margaret had been too bold in coming close to the estate. And now, it was time to escape. Her heart pounded in her chest, sending a rush of blood to her limbs that compelled her to run away. She hiked up her skirts and spun back toward the statues, toward the city.

Her feet moved of their own accord, picking up speed as she ran away from the old man.

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? You look exactly like her! You can run, but you’ll soon do your duty to me!” the Earl shouted after her, his voice echoing in the empty air.

Margaret swallowed the words in her throat. Her mind whirred to life, wanting to turn around and tell him that she would never give him what he wanted. The words gathered on the tip of her tongue, urging her to open her mouth and spit them out.

A bigger part of her won out, though. The part that wanted to put as much distance between her and the Earl as she could.

She picked up the pace and made it to the corner. Frantically, she rounded the corner, her mind already trying to figure out how to make it back to her friend’s estate without allowing the old man any nearer.

If only I had time to check my map.

She fumbled with the parchment in her hands, head bowed over the paper as she ran. She made a sharp turn onto the next street when she almost collided with a coach.

“My apologies,” she mumbled, still trying to make sense of the map.

With no crest, she did not think she needed to curtsy to whoever was in front of her. She only looked up when the coach halted, and the driver kept staring at her.

“Are you going to the book club, My Lady?”

“The…?”

“You know, the book club.” The driver looked at her pointedly, his eyebrows raised.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if it were an inside joke. Margaret wondered if he was laughing at her or with her.

She opened her mouth to tell him that she had no idea what he was talking about when the Earl’s voice echoed across the street.

“Do you hear me, girl? You’ll come around sooner or later!”

Margaret turned to the driver with what she hoped was her most charming smile and a demure look. Instead of telling him that she had no idea what the book club was, she said, “Yes, please. Take me to the book club.”

The driver took her to a massive estate, much larger than that of the Earl. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw it, wondering what she had gotten herself into by agreeing to come. Who would she encounter here? Someone worse than the Earl?

“The book club is right through here, in the library.” The driver pointed to the heavy oak door. Margaret moved to open the door, but the man reached out and touched her arm before she could enter. “The rules, My Lady.”

“The rules,” Margaret echoed.

A stone sank in her stomach. She would never be able to pull this off. Someone would know that she was an imposter.

“First, wear your mask. And please, be discreet, My Lady. Some of our… readers don’t like to be stared at.”

With that, the driver took a step back and indicated that she could open the door. Margaret tentatively took a step toward the door and put her hand on the cold handle before gently pushing it open.

It took a moment for her to register the scene that greeted her as she stepped into the room.

This is what they do in book clubs?

After living in the convent for so long, she had no inkling that scenes like this were real. Even if she had grown up among the ton, she would not have imagined this.

Margaret stopped in the doorway, her skin so hot that it could have burned anyone who touched her. She knew her face must be bright red beneath her mask, but there was no chance that her blush would go away any time soon.

The couple closest to her was seated closer than was decent on the settee. The man had his arm around the woman and was just leaning in to kiss her hungrily. Margaret could see his tongue teasing the seam of the woman’s lips.

She looked away, but her eyes could not find a safe place to land.

The next couple she spotted was almost worse. She watched a man lean into his lady’s ear and whisper the words of the book he was holding. The woman flushed a shade of pink that was almost certainly more delicate than the shade of Margaret’s face.

Some women were in various states of undress. The men looked like they could devour them, their eyes dark. No one looked up at her when she entered the room, allowing her to soak up the scene and figure out what the right move was.

I should leave before anyone notices that I’m here.

But curiosity got the better of her before she could turn around. The sisters at the convent always said that Margaret’s curiosity would lead her into temptation, and now she was here in this book club.

Surely, these couples had to be reading something.

Margaret leaned over the shoulder of the man closest to her and tried to read a few words from the book. Perhaps she could see what the book was about, and this whole scene would start to make some sense. Her eyes strained to find the words on the page, but her blush only crept down her neck.

She saw the words, but the pictures were really what drew her in. The picture was of a man and a woman, both of them naked. But they were not doing what she had been taught would make babies.

Leaning further over the man’s shoulder to get a better look at the book and the picture within, she started. The man’s head was where?

“May I see your invitation?”

Margaret froze. Ice ran through her veins. Had someone found her out?

Quickly, she considered the ways this could play out. She could feign ignorance—surely, she was ignorant of what this book club truly was. Perhaps that was the best course of action.

She straightened her spine and turned to face the deep voice that addressed her.

She was met with a more imposing man than she had been anticipating. He was tall, much taller than her. With his cold, dark brown eyes fixed on her, the words lodged in her throat.

“Your invitation,” he repeated, as if she had not heard him the first time.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Your invitation. Surely, you did not sneak into the club without one. You would not want to cause trouble, would you?” He quirked a brow, waiting for her response.

Margaret opened her mouth to tell him about the series of events that led her into this… this debauchery, but she could not summon the words.

“Well…”

The man sighed and looked up, as if he would find help from the heavens if he only prayed hard enough.

Margaret thought that the people in this room should pray more. She doubted whether this was what the nuns had in mind when they talked about the important duty of a wife to her husband.

The women who surrounded her in the library did not appear to be merely fulfilling their duty to their husbands. Margaret knew what it was to fulfill her duty; she did it every day at the convent when she had to clean and scrub and pray.

No, these women were having far too much fun to be merely doing their duty.

Margaret reached for the rosary that was always in her pocket, only to realize that she had left it at Theresa’s home. She felt compelled to pray and confess her sin, though she had no idea what she would confess. It wasn’t as if she was the one on the settee with that book in her lap.

The man reached out and gently took her by the upper arm, turning her away from the scene. He took her back the way she had come.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re coming with me.”