Page 3 of Her Rogue of a Duke
And all her determination had finally paid off, for she was close to achieving that dream now that she would shortly be engaged.
There was much for her to look forward to… she just needed to keep her head held high and continue down the path she had diligently carved out for herself.
At the murmur of voices approaching, Francesca froze. Her morning strolls were ordinarily solitary affairs and she liked to keep them that way, but owing to the lovely sun-kissed skies, the route she had taken today was slightly longer than her usual, flanked by a simple gate opening to expansive fields on one sideand a low stone wall on the other, leaving little room to make an escape. She cast a quick, desperate glance around the bare expanse. As she weighed her limited options, a couple crested over a nearby knoll.
Francesca’s body tensed as her eyes fell upon the unmistakably resplendent attire of the Duke of Elmcroft, and her body stiffened with immediate tension. A young lady was accompanying him, her chaperone not far behind. It took Francesca a moment, but then she recalled the lady’s name was Susan Moore, daughter of the Earl of Gladstone. Francesca had encountered her a time or two at different social gatherings, but the two had never been officially introduced.
The Duke, however, was another matter entirely. She had known him since her childhood, and it was not an acquaintance she relished. He was haughty and arrogant and looked down on her because of her significantly lower station. When she had been a naïve child, she had thought herself in love with him, mistaking his indifference for mystery. But he had never treated her kindly, nor spared a kind word for her, and she had never understood why it was. What had she possibly done to earn his cold disdain?
As fate would have it, the Duke's eyes caught hers as she stood frozen on the path, prompting him to halt abruptly too. His scowl was one of annoyance, which she met with a defiant glare of her own.
Lady Susan appeared oblivious to the animosity thickening the air between Francesca and the Duke. She seemed surprised tosee Francesca, but then pasted on a sugary sweet smile that did not seem quite as pleasant as she might have thought.
“Ah, Lady Francesca,” Lady Susan declared. “What a pleasant surprise!”
Francesca was momentarily taken aback, not expecting Lady Susan to recognize her.
“Good morning, Lady Susan.” Her attention flicked back to the Duke for a brief moment as she offered a brisk, polite curtsy. “Your Grace.”
“Lady Francesca,” the Duke murmured. “Rather early to be wandering about, is it not? Alone at that?”
Francesca clenched her jaw. “I find the early morning most conducive to exercise. It isusuallyquiet and peaceful. And there is hardly any need for an escort when I am merely walking along my father’s property line.”
“It is indeed quite refreshing out,” Lady Susan quickly intervened. She gazed up tenderly at the Duke from beneath her long lashes. “Lord Elmcroft was generously showing me his lovely meadows here. I have long wished to see them.”
Francesca felt a wave of resentment. “Ah, yes... the Oakvale Meadows are indeed beautiful.”
Beautiful,lucrative, and once a source of her family’s pride. That was until, through some cunning maneuver, the Duke had found means to take it from them. Now, the meadows that bore her father’s title were no longer his property. It was an injustice that Francesca had grown bitter over.
It was one of the many reasons her feelings for the Duke had so drastically changed.
Still, why did such a vile man have to be so handsome? He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, tapering down to long, powerful legs. His dark hair reminded her of rich, warm chocolate, framing equally delicious eyes, and the sharp, stubbled contour of his jaw lent him a roguish charm. He seemed to always be clad in black or gray lavish attires, adorned by expensive fineries, which she thought was fitting, as it made him appear more of a villain… albeit a beautiful one.
Francesca forced such thoughts from her mind. She could not let herself forget that, despite his pleasing exterior, he was rotten to his very soul and not a man to be trusted, nor admired.
“Yes, a point of pride for the Duchy,” he declared, giving Francesca a pointed look. “An ancient holding briefly lost to us but recently transferred back.”
Francesca clutched her book so tightly that her knuckles whitened with the strain.
“One would think such a transfer would be unnecessary after so many centuries,” she countered, her civility thinly veiling thebitterness. “Yet, it appears it is difficult for some to overlook their ambitions at the expense of others."
The Duke’s gaze sharpened. “And others might find it difficult to acknowledge when a wrong has been made right, by no fault of anyone involved. Though I suppose it is a complex matter, likely too intricate for a young lady to grasp. Such concerns are typically resolved amongst gentlemen after all.”
Oh, how she wished she could slap that smug look right off his face. She controlled her temper, however, reminding herself that she was a lady and would not conduct herself in an unseemly manner. No matter how much the Duke might deserve it.
No one else in the world riled her like he did. Every interaction between them seemed like a battle of wills and wits, and she tried to come out the victor as often as she could. He looked down on her as it was and she did not wish to give him any more fodder for his disdain.
Turning her attention to Lady Susan, Francesca beamed, “My lady, your charm is especially radiant today. The yellow of the gown is utterly becoming on you. I must have my father purchase one in kind for myself.”
Lady Susan responded with a girlish giggle and flutter of her lashes, waving a gloved hand gracefully.
"Oh, how kind of you to say, my dear," she answered, her voice dripping with a condescension that didn't quite hide behind her younger age. "Mama has been quite insistent on refreshingmy wardrobe this season. She is quite set on seeing me settled soon." Her eyes flickered back to the Duke, who seemed to make a point of ignoring her, before returning to Francesca. “Papa had hoped I would be wed last year, but I was adamant about waiting another season. I wouldn't want to settle for just anyone, after all..” She slipped her arm around the Duke’s, making her claim of him clear.
A flicker of old emotions stirred in Francesca at the sight, the remnants of what she once felt for the Duke, but she dismissed them with ease. “I wish you the best of luck,” Francesca told her with an icy smile. “I am sure any gentleman would be fortunate to have you for his own.”
“Indeed,” Lady Susan agreed. “What of you, though, Lady Francesca? Have you not been courting Lord Liam Terrell?”
Once more, Francesca was stunned that Lady Susan knew such details about her life. The lady had apparently been paying much more attention to her than Francesca had ever paid in return.