Page 3

A s the wedding day drew closer, Alicia’s mood plummeted by the hour, and she spent much of her time in the house, avoiding her father.

Since she had stubbornly refused to be involved in the planning of a wedding she did not want, he had made all the decisions, including for her wedding gown.

It had arrived that morning, and Alicia stared at it sullenly as her maid lifted it out of the box with much excitement.

Rose, who was very young and passionate, was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pulled back the muslin that protected the gown and untied the ribbon.

Alicia stepped forward, looking down at it incredulously. It was a simple design, which suited her father’s tastes more than her own.

The satin shone beautifully, reflecting the soft light filtering through the window. A band of gold circled the high-waisted bodice, and as Rose pulled it out, the rest of the train cascaded downward, all the way to the floor.

Rose let out a squeal of delight that grated on Alicia’s nerves, and Alicia had to force a smile as her maid brought the dress to her. She ran a finger gently down the fabric.

She was well aware that many women would kill to be in her shoes. She existed in a world of wealth and privilege that few could dream of. Still, the sight of the gown filled her with despair.

If only there were a room deep underground that I could go to; I would be able to scream at the top of my lungs, and no one would hear me.

Perhaps sensing her reluctance, Rose gently folded the gown back into the box after a few minutes.

Alicia grimaced when she remembered she would be wearing the thing in just three days.

With a curtsy and a warm smile, Rose left the room.

Alicia had to hold herself back from tossing the box into the fire.

I do not even know who I am marrying.

It was not simply that the Duke of Radcliffe was a stranger to her, but the rumors she had heard about him were far from… flattering.

Alicia had tried to glean more information from a variety of sources to no avail. She had even asked Katie for her thoughts on her future husband, and her anxiety had only risen when Katie pretended that she knew nothing about him.

Her friend was not a good liar, and Alicia could tell that Katie was holding back from telling her something unwholesome about him. Alicia had probed her for more details, but Katie simply said that she refused to spread gossip.

Alicia had been none the wiser.

What she had been able to do was observe how others reacted at the mention of the Duke’s name.

She had watched her father announce their engagement to several of his acquaintances at a garden party the day before, and their expressions had been enough to make her nerves grow by the day.

Who is this man? Why do people seem to fear him so?

Carriage wheels rumbled outside, and Alicia turned, walking to the window to look down at the street. She had not been aware that they were expecting any more visitors today.

The horses that came into view were sleek and black, beautiful beasts larger than any she had seen. The coach they pulled was also of the finest quality, gleaming in the sunlight, black and smart like the horses before it.

Alicia frowned, not recognizing it. It seemed too fine for her father’s solicitor or a man of business to travel in.

She hissed through her teeth as a footman jumped down and opened the door to reveal the tall figure of the Duke of Radcliffe.

The chain of his watch glinted in the sunlight, his shoulders so wide that he could not step out of the carriage without angling himself to one side.

The sharp angles of his face looked all the more prominent, his dark eyes unreadable.

He stepped down effortlessly, looking around him and up at the townhouse with an expression of disdain so intense that if the window had been open, she would have thrown something at his smug face.

How would he like to have a black eye for the wedding?

Walking swiftly out of the room, she went to the landing to see what he wanted.

She was under no illusion that he had come to see his bride, and her assumption was proved correct as her father emerged from his study, walking swiftly to the door as he buttoned his coat.

As the Duke walked into the house, the two men shook hands and made their way to the study without exchanging a word.

Leaning against the banister, Alicia watched them intently, and just as he pushed the door to the study closed, the Duke’s dark eyes caught hers.

For a moment, their gazes locked, and that same little smirk played across his mouth. Alicia’s fingers tightened hard enough to break the banister beneath them, and she felt a splinter slip beneath her nail.

Cursing, she pulled her hand back and examined her finger as a drop of blood beaded on it.

Placing it in her mouth, she sucked it dry, deciding that if the Duke was so eager to meet with her father, she could wait until he was finished to say her piece.

Lowering herself onto the top step, she settled down to wait.

The meeting took longer than Alicia had anticipated.

Her father clearly had many things to discuss with the Duke, and her head was nodding forward in a light doze when the door to the study opened and the Duke emerged.

His bulk filled half the doorway, and he had to dip his head to step out.

Alicia clenched her jaw as she watched the emotionless way he spoke to her father. There was nothing about his bearing or expression that gave her any hope.

She could not imagine a man less suited to her.

She stood up as he took his leave, turning to make his way to the front door. Her father was distracted by the butler, who approached him about a household matter, and she took her chance.

Running down the steps, she followed the Duke to the front door, where a footman was waiting with his hat and coat.

Moving as quickly as she could, she hurried after him. There was a narrow passageway between the entrance hall and the gallery, but as she entered it, he rounded on her, staring her down with a look of quiet fury.

Alicia skidded to a halt, her resolve faltering under that dark, menacing stare.

His hair was tied back in a simple knot at the nape of his neck today. The pulled curls looked odd against the angles of his face, making him appear softer and more approachable. Until she looked into his eyes.

The shadows of the corridor made his gaze even more brooding than it had been at the ball. Alicia hesitated, the words hanging on the tip of her tongue disappearing as swiftly as her determination.

“Lady Alicia,” he said, his towering form blocking out the light at the other end of the passage. “Is there something you wish to say to me?”

Already, he looked disinterested, his hand moving to his pocket as he pulled out some very fine leather gloves that he proceeded to unbutton and pull onto his fingers.

“Call off the wedding,” she blurted, finally finding her voice, fighting against his allure.

She could not explain it, but being this close to him made something unfamiliar rise in her body—a desperate desire to please him, a primal need that made her cower in his presence.

Now that she was near him again, all of her elegant statements on why he should call off the wedding evaporated.

“And why would I do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He almost looked amused, but she wasn’t fooled.

“Because I am asking you to. We do not know one another. Why would you wish to tie yourself to me?” she asked desperately.

“Why should I not? I need to marry. Your father is keen on the match. What could you possibly object to?”

Alicia’s mouth fell open at the arrogant tone of his voice. She found herself tongue-tied again as he turned on his heel and walked away from her.

She lurched forward, grabbing at him blindly, and her fingers closed around his right forearm.

The Duke stopped, looking down at her fingers like he had never been touched before.

Slowly, he turned back, ensuring she was looking at him before deliberately brushing her fingers aside as though they were an insect that had landed on him.

“I do not like being delayed,” he said. “State your case quickly, or go back to your embroidery. I have other places to be.”

Alicia glowered at him, and that infuriating smirk reappeared in a way that made heat crawl up her neck.

He watched her as though examining an interesting species he had never encountered before.

“Call off the wedding,” she spat.

“No.”

“I could never be happy with you. We will make each other miserable.”

He made a noise at the back of his throat that almost sounded like a laugh.

“Is that so? I am gratified that you have already got the measure of me, Duchess.”

“I am not your Duchess yet.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It is only a matter of time. I don’t understand why you are trying to dissuade me. I am a duke; you can hardly expect anything better.”

Alicia scoffed. “You are very sure of yourself, Your Grace. Perhaps I simply do not wish to be tied to someone as brooding and ill-tempered as you.”

His smirk widened, heat flickering in his eyes. Something shifted in his manner, his shoulders lowering as he licked his lips, taking a step forward, disarming her completely.

She felt backed in a corner, trapped on all sides, when in reality she could simply have stepped back and been free of him. But she could not move. He was looming over her now, and his proximity was intoxicating.

“I am afraid, Lady Alicia, that you do not have any choice in the matter,” he said. “We will be married, whether you wish it or not, and as for making each other happy…” His eyes slid down her body and back up very deliberately. “I do not have such juvenile concerns.”

He turned away, heading to the footman as Alicia’s hands clenched into fists.

He reached the door as the footman passed him his hat, and he turned, looking at her for the final time as he placed it on his head.

“You are stuck with me, my Duchess. You had better get used to it.”