Page 1 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)

Cecilia Punton had very little interest in finding a husband.

It was not because of any deep-rooted hatred for men, nor because she wished to make a statement on how little value she placed upon marriage. Despite what the ton thought of her, she actually liked the thought of such a union, but not for herself.

Simply put, she enjoyed how she lived her life and had no intention of changing it. Two of her greatest friends were married, and they were both perfectly happy, but that was not what she wanted, and so she remained happily unmarried.

“Is it awful?” Clara asked her in the carriage, clinging tightly to her arm. “Perhaps we might turn back, and I can try again another night?”

“Nonsense,” Cecilia replied warmly, gently patting her hand. “The first evening is the worst, but it is nowhere near as difficult as you are expecting. You shall have many eyes following you, but that is only because of the remarks Her Majesty made during your introduction to her.”

“I was hoping you would not say that. Pure perfection, can you believe it? I wish I had simply received a gentle smile and a nod of approval. Perhaps then I would not be treated like some exotic animal.”

“Or an adversary,” Cecilia joked, but their aunt scowled at them.

Clara was her younger cousin, with wide brown eyes and blonde hair swept up perfectly in an attempt to hide how painfully shy she was. The Queen had thought the world of her, but Cecilia knew all too well that that was not a compliment.

It was, in truth, a bad omen.

Clara’s mother, Aunt Margaret, had been kind enough to sponsor both of them that Season, having warned Cecilia that this was her final chance to find a husband.

Cecilia had almost politely declined, electing to spend the rest of her life as a bluestocking spinster, but then Clara had pleaded with her to accompany her so that she would not be alone during her first Season.

She had also thought of Beatrice Jennings, her only other friend who remained unmarried.

Therefore, Cecilia had chosen to rejoin Society for one final Season in a vain attempt to pretend she wanted to marry.

“I am expecting great things,” her aunt said firmly.

“And that is from both of you. Clara, you shall not listen to a word those other ladies say. You shall thrive, and I have little doubt that you will secure an advantageous match. As for you, Cecilia, I do not care what others say about your reputation. You are capable of finding a husband, and you will do so.”

“Yes, Aunt Margaret.”

“Do not simply agree so that I will stop talking.”

Cecilia could not stop herself from smiling at that.

“I know that you have these visions of yourself enjoying a solitary life,” her aunt continued, “but there are other people who can be affected by your decisions. Make sure that your behavior does not impact my daughter’s.”

Cecilia faltered, at last thinking of her cousin. It was true that until that year, her actions had very little effect on anyone else. Now that she had Clara beside her, however, any mistakes she made would reflect on her too.

Her cousin’s situation was precarious enough as it was, as there were dozens of ladies waiting for her to fail with baited breath. Cecilia could not give them any fodder, no matter what it took.

She sighed, sitting back and hoping that Clara would quickly find a decent suitor and be out of the equation.

It was not that she did not wish to see her cousin; she was a delight to be with.

However, the sooner Clara was married off, the sooner Cecilia could return to her own life, and the prospect excited her greatly.

She realized that she had been tightly gripping her pale pink skirts, and she released them and brushed herself down furiously, trying to smooth the creases she had made.

“You look lovely,” Clara whispered when they entered the ballroom.

“I do not look like myself,” Cecilia corrected. “I am not some girlish little thing that is meant to simper in a frock.”

“Which is a shame, because you play the role so beautifully.”

Cecilia nudged her playfully, and they entered the ballroom.

Clara was descended upon in an instant before being whisked away for the first dance.

Cecilia watched her go. Although she could clearly see the nervousness in her cousin’s eyes, the gentlemen would not notice.

They never noticed the intricate details of a lady’s face, only whether or not they found it pleasing enough.

“You will dance tonight, yes?” Aunt Margaret asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Should I be asked, I do not see why I would not. Alas, nobody has asked me yet.”

“I will admit,” she sighed, her gaze drifting away, “I never asked about your… popularity.”

“They ask me to dance, I see that they are not the sort of gentlemen I wish to dance with, and I refuse. That is how it typically happens.”

“Yes, well, see to it that you do not refuse them. This is your—”

“Final chance, yes. I am aware.”

As if on cue, a gentleman appeared whom Cecilia recognized. She had met him the year before, a small slip of a man who had recently come into a vast fortune.

Strictly speaking, there was nothing wrong with him, but he did not hold her interest. He was too short, for a start, and with his small frame and gentle nature, he was not someone who could handle a lady with her temperament.

It was true that she did not wish to be oppressed by her husband, but that did not mean she wished to be agreed with all the time.

“Good evening, Miss Punton. My, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, Lord Pember.” It was as short a response as she could manage.

“Would you care to dance?”

“It would appear that the first dance is already underway. It would be improper to join now.”

She felt her aunt’s hand nudge into her arm.

“The next one, then?” he offered.

“Oh, very well then. Yes.”

With a slightly too-toothy smile, he left her standing there. Her pulse quickened, knowing that he would return once the music died down.

“What on earth are you doing?” her aunt demanded in a hushed tone. “Lord Pember is a perfectly reasonable match.”

“Aunt Margaret, I understand my situation, but it is the beginning of the Season. I do not need to choose the first man who sets his cap for me.”

“The first and only, I shall remind you.”

“I would not say that,” a deeper voice suddenly said.

Cecilia could not help but smile slightly.

The Duke of Pridefield was not the sort of man that Cecilia would have ever expected to befriend, and yet she had.

It had been a few years ago, during a party he had hosted, when she came to know him as Leonard Kingsman, and though she never would have dared to admit it, she had grown to respect him.

“Oh!” Aunt Margaret gasped. “Good evening, Your Grace. Do forgive me, I was simply—”

“Telling your niece what she ought to hear, I believe,” he joked, winking at Cecilia. “Sadly, you will have to find an excuse for that poor young man. I require a word with her, and I do not know that we will return before the next dance.”

Cecilia raised an eyebrow at him, but he was no longer looking at her. Instead, he was looking at her aunt, knowing perfectly well that she could not—nor would she ever—refuse the request of a duke, especially not one as powerful as him.

“Well, I suppose I can tell him that she had taken a walk in the gardens with some other ladies.”

“We shall not be long, Aunt Margaret,” Cecilia promised. “And if it helps at all, I shall dance with Lord Pember upon my return if he is not already on the dance floor with another young lady.”

Her aunt narrowed her eyes at her slightly, but there was no arguing to be done. Nobody argued with the Duke of Pridefield. Except, of course, Cecilia.

They took a turn about the room, soon finding Beatrice with her family. She looked lovely, and Cecilia wondered why she was not dancing but was pleased to see her alone all the same.

They made their introductions, Cecilia noting the uneasy looks she received from Beatrice’s parents. She was not considered a good influence on her friend—even she had to admit that—but Beatrice’s parents had never stopped them from seeing one another.

It had been quite a gift, given that Cecilia had been watching her friends marry and leave her behind.

“We were wondering if you might like to walk with us?” Cecilia asked.

At once, Beatrice’s parents ushered her toward the Duke.

“Your title has its use at times,” Cecilia muttered to Leonard, who rolled his eyes playfully.

When they entered the gardens, Beatrice at last seemed to find her voice.

“Alright,” she said quickly, “why are the two of you together again?”

“What do you mean?” Cecilia asked.

“For a start, you are using me as a chaperone. Do not think I did not guess that from the start.”

“It is not that at all,” Leonard said in a cool tone. “We like your company, nothing more. Besides, poor Miss Punton has been set upon once again by Lord Pember.”

“Oh, no,” Beatrice groaned. “Surely your aunt has something to say about that?”

“She would be pleased to see me married off to any man if it means helping her daughter. She means well, but we are all aware of what has been said about me. I am a wanton, and I am going to destroy the family name. With one wrong move, I could ruin Clara’s reputation.

You know as well as I do that I hate all of this, but Clara does not deserve to be ruined in the process. ”

“And so, at last, you have decided to bend?” Beatrice asked.

“She would have,” Leonard replied, “but I saved you both from such a fate and whisked her away.”

“And I am most grateful for that.”

Cecilia studied him. Leonard Kingsman was the very opposite of Lord Pember; he was tall and broad, his eyes like those of a lion. He was fearsome, and like Cecilia, he had a reputation that most would have preferred to avoid entirely.

It was what made him bearable, and a good friend to her. There were no pretenses, and that made it easier to converse with him.

Beatrice did not see it the same way. She was, like most of the ton, rather frightened of him at the best of times, but she trusted Cecilia’s judgment of his character.

“Does this mean that you will find a husband this Season?” Beatrice asked, a hint of a whine in her voice.

“It is possible, yes.”

“But I will be alone!”

“Then you ought to allow available gentlemen to court you! Beatrice, you know as well as I do that gentlemen would fall at your feet if that was what you wanted.”

“Gentlemen look past me as if I am not there. I am not like you, tall, slender, and pretty. I am—” Beatrice broke off.

But Cecilia knew what her friend was going to say.

Beatrice enjoyed baking, which was looked down on by polite society and had also led to her being perhaps a little softer and rounder than was preferred by most men.

Regardless, Cecilia had always thought that she would make the best wife in their group.

“Besides,” Beatrice continued, clearing her throat, “you and I were supposed to be spinsters together.”

“That has never been my plan, and you know it. Come now, we will find someone for you tonight.”

“Please do not!” she squeaked. “I cannot bear the thought of asking a gentleman to dance with me.”

“You need not do so,” Leonard assured her. “I shall do it for you.”

Beatrice turned scarlet, but they did not stop to say anything further.

They returned to the ballroom, Cecilia tightly looping her arm through Beatrice’s. Leonard found Lord Pember, whom he towered over, and tapped his shoulder.

“Your Grace!” Lord Pember greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Do you see that lovely young lady in blue?” Leonard asked. “The one beside Miss Punton, yes. I would like you to dance with her.”

Lord Pember looked at both of them, his eyes lighting up at once. He approached them as the music came to an end and introduced himself to Beatrice.

“It would be an honor to dance with you,” he said gently.

In an instant, Beatrice’s face brightened. She took his arm, and they disappeared into the crowd.

“That was rather easy for you, was it not?” Cecilia asked.

“It is as you said; your friend is pretty. We gentlemen are not as vain as you might think, and I shall have you know that we do not always appreciate a challenge.”

“But you do, do you not?”

“At times, yes. They can provide some entertainment.”

“Ah, is that why you find yourself by my side at these events?”

“Well, it is not as though either of us has much of a choice. All of our friends seem to find themselves married, and your friend seems to be next.”

Cecilia sighed, watching Beatrice dance with Lord Pember.

Beatrice seemed to be enjoying herself, and though it was precisely what Cecilia wanted for her, she could not help but feel a twinge of fear that she would indeed soon be left alone.

“If you are reconsidering your position,” Leonard said after a moment, more sincerely, “I would be more than happy to dance with you. It might do your reputation some good if they see you are not as fearsome as you wish to be.”

She laughed gently, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“That is very kind, but I do not need your pity. I have the sharpest tongue in London, and the last thing I need is to be seen as a lady who needs anything from a gentleman.”

“And yet—not that it is a need, by any means—you might find yourself in want.”

“And if I did, I would be entitled to keep that to myself. Every lady has secrets, Your Grace.”

Cecilia’s eyes fell on her aunt, who was watching as Clara danced a second time, but then she noticed those around her, none able to look at her.

They were whispering.