Page 1 of Her Duke to Seduce: Lady Be Wicked (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #20)
L ady Felicity Hathaway stared out the window of her Aunt Enid, the Countess of Winston’s, library. She had been sent to spend the summer months at the Winston estate, much to her chagrin. Her father, the Earl of Sheffield, had little time for her while he oversaw some renovations to his estate, and her aunt firmly believed he ought to remarry and provide Felicity with a new mother. Felicity, however, wished her aunt would mind her own affairs and leave them well enough alone. She loved her aunt—she truly did—but Enid’s opinions often clashed with her own, which only served to irritate her.
Like being sent to Winston Manor for the summer...
Her aunt had only recently married herself. Why would she wish to take charge of a ten-year-old girl at a time like this? Should she not be more preoccupied with her own new life? Felicity sighed heavily. She detested Winston Manor and being under her aunt’s ever-watchful supervision. At home, she had much more freedom to do as she pleased. Her father doted upon her, which was why she had been so shocked when he agreed to send her away for the summer. Why would he do such a thing?
“Felicity, dear,” her aunt’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “What are you doing in here?”
As if the library were a scandalous place for her to be.
Felicity rolled her eyes and continued gazing out the window, making no effort to respond. What did her aunt expect her to say? What answer would make her leave Felicity in peace and allow her to do as she pleased? “What would you like for me to be doing?” she asked in a dull tone. She truly hated it here. She sincerely hoped that after this summer, she would never have to endure another visit to Winston Manor.
“I have hired tutors to work with you this summer,” her aunt announced.
Felicity turned toward her, narrowing her gaze. “What sort of tutors?” The way her aunt phrased it— tutors —implied there would be more than one. What, precisely, did Aunt Enid believe she lacked in her education? Did she think Felicity’s father had failed to provide adequate instruction?
“Well,” her aunt began, “they will assist in giving you a proper education befitting a young lady.”
Felicity lifted her chin. “I assure you, Aunt, I have already had a proper education.”
“No, my dear,” Enid said firmly. “What you have had is an education befitting a gentleman. No lady need study mathematics, Greek, Latin, or any sort of science.”
Felicity bristled. “And why not? Do you suppose a girl lacks the intelligence to comprehend such topics?”
Her aunt sighed. “That is not it at all. But you must learn how to be a lady. If you insist upon discussing such things when you enter society, you will never find a husband.”
So that was it.
“Aunt Enid,” Felicity said slowly, enunciating each word, “I am ten years old. If a man wished to marry me now...” She let the thought trail off, giving her aunt a pointed look. Did she really need to explain it to her aunt? “Boys are disgusting anyway. I shall never marry one.”
She wrinkled her nose at the mere thought of it. The stable boy at her father’s estate was perpetually dirty and smelled awful. She could not fathom why any young lady would voluntarily spend her life in the company of a man, let alone marry one.
“You may change your mind one day,” her aunt said with a note of amusement. Felicity doubted it. “Be that as it may, your tutoring shall commence this afternoon. We shall begin with dance lessons.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Must we?”
“Yes, we must,” Aunt Enid replied, her tone brooking no argument. “A lady must carry herself with grace, and dancing is an essential skill. You will thank me when you make your debut.”
Felicity crossed her arms. “I have no desire to make a debut. Nor do I wish to prance about for some fop who only cares about how well I curtsy or how prettily I flutter my lashes.”
Her aunt pressed her lips into a firm line. “Your opinions, my dear, are far too strong for a young lady.”
“They are merely opinions,” Felicity replied. “And I fail to see why having them is so very terrible.” Her aunt should really learn to be less stringent. She would probably be much happier if she relaxed her ideals a little. She would never listen to anything a ten-year-old girl would say though. She had firm beliefs that nothing would change.
Her aunt sighed heavily and sat in the chair nearest the fireplace. “You remind me of your mother.”
Felicity’s breath hitched. Her mother was rarely spoken of in her father’s house. The few times she had dared ask about her, her father had gone silent, his expression darkening with sorrow. It was said that her parents had shared a great love, and that her mother’s passing had devastated him.
“My mother was strong-willed?” she asked cautiously. She knew so little about her mother, and any information—any fragment—was precious.
Her aunt’s gaze softened. “Very. And brilliant. She could outwit any gentleman in a debate and knew more about history than most scholars. But society is not kind to women who outshine men, Felicity.”
Felicity lifted her chin. “Then I shall outshine them all the same.” She would never marry.
Aunt Enid shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You are still a child. One day, you will see that life is not so simple.”
“Perhaps,” Felicity conceded. “But I stand by my beliefs. I doubt they shall change.”
Her aunt chuckled. “Very well. But for today, you shall dance.”
Felicity groaned. “And if I refuse?”
“Then you shall find yourself locked out of this library you love so dearly,” her aunt replied sweetly.
Felicity gasped. “You are cruel.”
“I am practical,” Aunt Enid corrected. “Now, shall we?”
With great reluctance, Felicity rose and followed her aunt from the library, her steps slow and dragging. This summer was going to be dreadful. But if she must endure lessons in refinement, she would find a way to remain exactly who she was—clever, outspoken, and utterly unimpressed by the expectations of the world.
Even if she had to waltz her way through it.
Aiden Weston, the Marquess of Redding, stared out at the pond that bordered his family’s estate and the Earl of Winston’s lands. He could not bear to remain inside that drafty castle for another moment. His mother was gravely ill, and it seemed unlikely she would survive the disease that racked her body. She had been coughing incessantly for days. His father had locked himself in his study, unable—or unwilling—to acknowledge the looming tragedy.
Aiden could not blame him. The Duke of Templeton adored his wife. To lose her now… Aiden did not know how he would withstand such a loss. The duchess was the warmth that made their somber home bearable. Without her, what would be left?
“Who are you?”
He turned at the unexpected sound and frowned. Walking toward him was a gangly young girl with golden blonde hair tumbling to her waist in an unruly mess. Did she not own a hairbrush? Her cheek was streaked with dirt, and her gray eyes—stormy and defiant—fixed on him with unwavering boldness. She was too thin, yet she carried herself as though she ruled the world.
“Who are you?” he retorted with a raised brow.
“I asked you first,” she shot back.
Of all the things he had anticipated enduring that day, an argument with a stubborn little girl had not been among them. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Perhaps this was precisely the distraction he needed to keep his mind from dwelling on his mother’s fate.
“I am the Marquess of Redding,” he informed her.
She tilted her head. “You do not look like a marquess.” She studied him critically. “You do not look much older than I am.”
“A marquess can be any age,” he pointed out, exasperation creeping into his tone. “And I am several years older than you. What are you, eight?”
“I am ten,” she corrected, jutting out her chin. “And I do not appreciate your easy dismissal, as though I am insignificant.”
“You use a great many large words for a little girl,” he noted. “Why are you out here?” Then, narrowing his gaze, he asked, “Are you one of the tenants’ children?” If so, he would have to see her safely home and likely chastise her parents for allowing her to roam about unsupervised.
She laughed outright. “Do I sound like I belong to one of the farmers?”
Aiden frowned. She had him there. The chit was well-spoken, something unlikely for a tenant’s daughter. “I suppose not,” he conceded. Tilting his head, he observed her curiously. “But not many daughters of the peerage sound like you either. At least, not many ten-year-olds I have met.”
“Good,” she said with satisfaction. “I would hate to be lumped in with all the young ladies aspiring to be normal . I plan to shine much brighter than any of them.” She frowned slightly. “But I do not believe it will be for the same reasons they hope to.”
“What is your name?” he demanded. “I should like to ensure you return home safely.”
“I do not require your assistance,” she said airily. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own way back to Winston Manor.” She rolled her eyes. “I managed to find my way here , did I not?”
It did not escape his notice that she still had not given him her name. However, she had unwittingly revealed where she belonged. He would have to pay a call to the earl and inquire about her. Perhaps she was the daughter of one of the servants. That would explain her refined vocabulary. Perhaps she had aspirations of becoming a governess one day.
He arched a brow. “And yet, you still have not told me your name.”
“I do not see why that is necessary,” she said breezily. “You are merely a stranger I encountered by the pond. I do not go about giving my name to unknown gentlemen.” She cast him a knowing look. “That would not be proper, would it?”
Aiden chuckled despite himself. “And wandering about alone in the woods is proper?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “That is entirely different.”
“How so?” He found he rather liked this girl.
“I am hardly alone.” She gestured toward him. “I have you for company, do I not?”
He could not argue with that logic, as ridiculous as it was. Whoever this girl was, she possessed an impertinence unlike anything he had encountered before. It was… oddly refreshing. Most children, particularly young ladies, cowered before a marquess—even one merely five and ten like him. This one, however, stood her ground as though she were the Queen of England herself.
“Well, nameless girl from Winston Manor,” he said, smirking, “I must insist on escorting you back. I cannot risk your coming to harm, or I will feel responsible.”
She hesitated before sighing, as if resigning herself to an inevitable fate. “I suppose you will not let this go.”
“I will not,” he confirmed.
“Very well, then,” she said, lifting her chin with dramatic grandeur. “You may call me Lissy.”
“Lissy?” he repeated. “That is all you will tell me? Surely that is not your only name.”
She shrugged. “It is all I will tell you.”
Aiden extended his arm, expecting her to take it as any proper young lady would. Instead, she eyed it as though it were an amusing relic from some bygone age.
“I would rather not,” she said primly. “I prefer my independence.”
Aiden laughed outright this time. “You are a peculiar little thing.”
Lissy shrugged. “I prefer to think of myself as extraordinary .”
“Extraordinary, is it?” He shook his head, marveling at her confidence. He found he liked her even if she were a bit frustrating. “Well then, Miss Lissy, shall we return to Winston Manor now?”
“I suppose I must return,” she said with great reluctance, then sighed dramatically. “But you are not going to escort me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, as I said,” she replied, lifting her chin, “I do not require you to.” With that, she turned and ran off, never once looking back.
Aiden shook his head as he watched her go. He should go after her, but he did not bother. She would be fine. It was unlikely she would come to any harm between the pond and Winston Manor. Still, he found himself wondering about her. Would he see her again? If she was a servant’s child, perhaps. But he had other concerns far more pressing than a cheeky little hellion and whatever future she might forge for herself. With a sigh, he turned back toward his own home, his thoughts returning to his mother. He could not afford to be distracted. Not now.