Page 1 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

Chapter One

“Victoria,” came the ominous word—almost like a curse—after Marianne’s father flung the parlor door open with acrack.

Lord Grisham scanned the room with pale, cold eyes.

A cane hit the marble sharply, the sound shaking the room like an earthquake.

Lord Grisham was an imposing man, with a tall, severe frame hulking in the doorway. Some might have called him lean, but his oldest daughter, Marianne, knew better. Beneath that specter-like silhouette lay a coiled strength. The seemingly perpetual scowl and the silver streaks in his hair only deepened the impression that was all too familiar to Marianne and her sisters.

They were five sisters.

Marianne, Elizabeth, and their three half-sisters, Wilhelmina, and the twins, Victoria and Daphne.

Their brother, Daniel—who was Marianne and Elizabeth’s full brother; Marianne’s mother had died after his birth—was not there to witness this.

All five sat like mismatched dolls in their respective settees and lounges. They were too still, afraid to be noticed by their father’s sharp eyes.

The cane thudded on the floor once. Twice. After the third time, Marianne knew what would come next. Her father lifted his cane—an extension of him—and pointed its end at the twins.

“Victoria,” he repeated with a hiss, his eyes piercing through her twelve-year-old sister.

He was more a specter, one so formidable and crooked that he didn’t feel like a father at all. At least that’s how Marianne knew him.

Victoria’s nose twitched, but she stared back. Marianne knew her sister would not shrink, or at least would not show her fear—not even to their father.

Next to her sat Daphne, trembling and clutching the embroidered pillow in her lap. It was as if she expected the soft thing to defend her.

“Your tutor told me that you threw an inkwell at his head,” Lord Grisham grunted.

Of course, Henry Brighton, the Marquess of Grisham, would take the side of a tutor over his daughters. On the surface, he looked like the perfect father and gentleman, but at home, he was an entirely different person.

“For good reason!” Victoria protested. “He insulted Daphne!”

“Did he, now?” Lord Grisham asked. But it was evident that he was not interested in an answer—not in any of their answers, anyway. “Did the man deserve to have an object thrown at his head merely because your sister spends more time on silly pursuits than her Latin conjugation?”

“Would you allow someone to call your child a mindless simpleton, Father?” Victoria asked, her cheeks turning red more from anger than from embarrassment. “Would you rather have your daughter mocked in front of others?”

“Ah. So you believe that assault is justified, in this case? Will you be doing the same thing for discourtesy committed?—”

“It was not mere discourtesy!” Victoria interrupted. “It was an insult and a public shaming!”

“Violence can result in a lot more trouble in the near future,” Lord Grisham snarled, his body straightening like a crooked tree in the breeze.

“She is not violent!” Daphne cried in her twin’s defense.

“All right, then. Not violent most of the time, but still a disgrace!” Lord Grisham slammed his cane on the floor again. “And so are you, Daphne! I don’t know how I have one wild animal and a useless dreamer. I should have sent you away a long time ago! A place in a school for wayward girls is what you deserve.”

Victoria opened her mouth and then closed it, trembling with anger.

Then, for some reason, Lord Grisham turned his attention to Elizabeth, his second-eldest daughter, who had kept herself still and quiet.

“You,” he growled. “You were supposed to set an example for them! I see a group of uncivilized and unruly young women before me! No man would ever want to marry any of you! And who allowed that to happen? You, Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth shrank further into herself, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. Marianne knew her sister would not recover quickly from this particular encounter.

“I did not—” she began.

“Silence!” Lord Grisham boomed.