Page 4

“ O h, you look beautiful, Lady Alicia,” Rose said, clapping her hands together as she stepped back.

Alicia looked down at her wedding dress, the beauty of it a stark contrast to the churning dismay that filled her body.

Finally, her wedding day had arrived, and with it endless waves of panic she could not dispel.

As she waited in Radcliffe Manor for the ceremony to begin, it was no longer defiant rage that fueled her, but fear.

In the days leading up to the wedding, it had become increasingly clear that her friends were lying to her. There was a shroud of worry, punctuated by multiple uncertain looks that made her furious beyond bearing.

They were keeping something about her husband-to-be from her, and she was determined to root it out.

She had heard whispers of a darkness in his past, but no one would speak of it.

Isolated as she was, with her friends traveling down for the ceremony, the only person she could ask was her father.

The Earl had scoffed at her, telling her she was foolish and to ignore such nonsense. But he was not a good liar either.

It was the night before the wedding when she had finally heard the truth, and it had come from the most surprising of sources.

Sitting by the fire in her room at Radcliffe Manor, she had been reading a book of poetry, losing herself in the words of Coleridge to try and alleviate her worry. As she shifted in her chair, she heard voices outside her room and the creak of floorboards in the hallway.

She rose from her seat and went to the door, pressing her ear against it. She recognized the voices of two maids from her father’s household.

“That is what I heard, too. That he was on trial.”

“Do you know what for?”

There was a short pause, and then the voices came closer, as if one maid had drawn the other to the wall in case they were overheard.

“Murder, Lily! The murder of his best friend, I heard.”

The voices faded, footsteps receding as Alicia pulled away from the door, wishing that her curiosity had not gotten the better of her.

Now, she stood as a bride-to-be, about to wed a potential murderer, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Perhaps I could throw myself from the window. But I would be crippled for my sins, and Papa would probably force me to go through with the wedding anyway.

Her fingers clutched at the soft fabric of her gown as she stared at her reflection, her mind racing.

If she could find a way to commandeer a horse or slip a coachman a few coins to take her somewhere far away, perhaps she could end this herself.

Alicia paced slowly from one end of the room to the other, racking her brain for a solution.

I could set the curtains on fire and burn the manor to the ground.

She glanced at the heavy damask, beautiful swirling patterns covering every inch, and grimaced.

Even if she could start a fire, what would that serve? The chapel would still be intact, but the Duke would be mad with rage.

If she did make it out, what then? What world awaited her, clad as she was in her wedding gown, with no money, no friends, no idea how she could survive?

Her mind raced with images of her wandering a lost, lonely moorland, the taste of salt in the air as she neared the sea, the wind whipping at the remnants of her gown.

In her mind, there was suddenly the sound of thundering hooves behind her. The Duke, having searched for his missing bride for many days, would gallop toward her, his expression stern, uncompromising— enraged .

He would pull her up onto the horse without a word, snarling into her ear as he brought her back to a life of servitude, his big body trapping her forever.

Alicia frowned.

Why is my mind thrilled by the thought of him hunting me down? How ridiculous.

She stopped pacing when a soft knock sounded at the door. Seconds later, Jane entered the room, wearing a gray muslin gown that beautifully accentuated her figure.

Jane took one look at her sister and was immediately by her side.

“What can I do?” she asked, squeezing her fingers tightly.

Alicia shook her head. “There is nothing you can do, dear sister. I will be marrying a cruel and heartless man who is devoid of feeling, all because Papa wishes it.”

“You do not know that he is cruel,” Jane said firmly. “You are accepting rumors as truth when that is not what they are. It is all gossip; that is what it will always be.”

Alicia shook her head. “You forget that I have met the Duke. You have not. I have never seen even the hint of a smile on that man’s face. He is cold, Jane. He might as well be made of stone.”

Jane pulled her to the chaise longue below the window, and they sat down together.

Alicia smiled fondly at her sister as Jane began to fuss with her train to ensure it was not rumpled.

“A creased gown is the least of my problems, Sister,” she said bitterly as Jane sat up again, intertwining their fingers.

“You do not know enough to judge him. I did not know David before we married, and look at us now.”

Alicia sighed. “You are happy, I suppose. That is what you are trying to tell me. And I might be so, too?”

“You might!” Jane said earnestly. “At the very least, you will be secure. Many women do not have that luxury, and it is a small blessing, perhaps—but it is a blessing, nonetheless.”

Alicia knew her sister was right; she should be grateful for small mercies. But as she stared down at the beautiful gown around her feet, she struggled to draw in a full breath.

Rising, she walked to the fireplace and then to the door, leaning against it, her hands at her back as she glared at the beautiful sunshine beyond the window.

She wished that it was pouring rain to match her mood, that the sky was a black mess of clouds that would drench her on the walk to the chapel.

The wedding would take place on the grounds of the Duke’s estate, only a stone’s throw from the room where she stood, and it felt as if the walls were closing in on her.

I am already trapped in his dukedom, never to be free again.

“What if the rumors are true?” she asked. “What if the Duke is a murderer and was responsible for the death of his friend? What then? Do you think Papa would have promised me to a man who had done such a thing?”

She laughed derisively, pushing away from the door.

“If our father were a normal man, with less greed in his heart, I would even believe that telling him of the Duke’s past would guarantee the marriage did not take place. But Papa simply would not believe it.”

She leaped back in alarm as the door to the room jerked open, and her breath hitched at the sight of the Duke standing in the gap, his arms open wide, his gaze fixed on her with a rage that made her blood pound in her ears.

There was a sharp, ominous silence, and then the Duke’s hunched shoulders relaxed slightly as his gaze turned to Jane.

“Lady Riverton, I would beg your pardon, but I will speak with my betrothed.”

His words were like granite, the suppressed anger in his voice sending a tremor through Alicia’s body. She reached back blindly for her sister’s hand, seeking reassurance.

“Surely, there is nothing you need to speak with her about that her sister cannot hear, Your Grace?” Jane attempted.

But Alicia knew he would not allow her to stay.

“There are many things that must remain private between man and wife. I would ask you to leave us, please.”

“We are not man and wife yet,” Alicia snapped.

The Duke said nothing in reply, merely holding the door open for her sister to leave the room.

Alicia held onto Jane’s hand for as long as possible, but her sister gave her an apologetic look before letting go and walking out of the room.

The Duke closed the door behind them, and then they were alone.

Alicia straightened, determined to stand her ground.

“So, you have been listening to gossip about me,” the Duke said icily, walking toward her.

He stopped a foot away but still towered above her, huge and threatening.

Alicia’s irritation spiked, unable to prevent her eyes from running over his tall figure, the outline of his arms beneath his tight coat, and the flat expanse of his stomach.

I am not supposed to notice this man. He is meant to be as insignificant to me as I am to him.

“Do tell me what you have heard,” he said. “I am very eager to hear it.”

Alicia swallowed, taking a step back, and she gasped as he matched it, not allowing her to retreat from him. His shoulders seemed impossibly wide, broad, and thick, his jaw tense.

She looked around fearfully, wondering if Jane had remained within earshot and if her sister would hear her scream.

“I heard you were on trial,” she admitted finally, her voice thin in the quiet room.

“For?”

“For murder.”

“A serious crime, indeed,” the Duke said, a vein in his forehead throbbing as he glared at her. “And who did I kill?”

“Your… your best friend,” Alicia whispered as he took another step toward her.

She gave a small cry as the back of her legs met the chaise. She fell back, catching herself, leaning away from him as he crowded her.

“Hm,” he murmured, his tone conversational even as his legs brushed her knees, trapping her in place. “I would not believe the rumors you hear if I were you, Lady Alicia.”

The way he said her name… it was almost like a cat purring with pleasure, the ‘s’ sound elongated and sensual as if he were drawing it out deliberately, like a snake. She wanted to hear him say it again.

“I… I merely heard the servants talking about it,” she murmured.

“I am to marry a woman who puts store in the idle chatter of servants, then,” he drawled.

His hands came up on either side of her head, and he leaned over, his face inches from her own.

Alicia’s breath came quicker as she pushed herself into the corner of the chair. His torso hovered above her, his eyes flashing with fire.

“I want you to understand something, Duchess, and I will only say this once, is that clear?”

“Y-Yes,” she stammered, her fingers clutching the cushions.

“You have my word that I will never harm you. But I will not justify myself on account of lies that strangers tell behind my back.”

She nodded, the heat of him surrounding her, the scent of his hair filling her lungs, the faint tang of orange in the air.

She could see every part of his face, the golden flecks all the more stark with his eyes so close—like deep mahogany flecked with beech.

Alicia sank further into the chair as his knee came up, bracketing her thighs as she was pressed even further into the plush cushions.

It had never been more clear that she was in his house, his domain, where his servants were loyal to him.

Is this what my life will be like? Threatened every day with no one to care, should I scream?

“This marriage, such as it is, is a convenience. It is something that will suit us both. I have little use for a wife, other than to fulfill the conditions of my father’s will.

I must marry before I am five-and-thirty, and that is the purpose of today.

You and I will exist in a marriage of convenience that serves us both.

You can live your life, and I will live mine. I have no desire to get to know you.”

Her breathing grew heavy, a dark heat that she had never felt before forming between her legs. His proximity, his scent, and everything about his domineering presence made her feel overwhelmed with need.

That same strange desire to please him rose within her, to do as he asked, and for him to tell her that she had done well—that he was pleased with her.

She shivered, and his lips twitched at the corners as though in the beginnings of a smile, but it faded almost as quickly.

“I do not like hearing rumors spread by people who do not know me.” His voice was a growl now, reverberating through her chest. “I will not hear them from you again, is that clear?”

Alicia nodded again.

His hips brushed the fabric of her gown, his body inches from covering her completely, and her cheeks were flaming with the heat of a blush.

“I am pleased to hear it, my Duchess,” he whispered, his face hovering just above hers. His eyes flicked down to her lips, before he slowly moved away.

His body had blocked out so much of the light from the window that Alicia had forgotten it was light outside.

Everything, all of her senses, had narrowed on the man before her. It was as if, for a short time, all that existed in the world was him.

The Duke straightened to his full height, pulling at his coat and sleeves and tugging his waistcoat over the flat planes of his stomach.

Alicia only realized she was staring when his eyes flitted to her. She quickly averted her gaze, wishing that her blush would fade.

She was lying at an awkward angle from where he had lowered himself over her, and she pulled herself up into a seated position, fiddling with the folds of her dress.

He stood watching her, his hands behind his back, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the light streaming through the high windows.

“I am glad we understand each other, My Lady. I would not wish to be at odds at the start of our marriage.”

Alicia could not speak, the enormity of what had just taken place consuming her. She did not look at him as he made a little derisive sound in the back of his throat and left the room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she collapsed back in the chair, drawing in deep, gulping breaths.

He is master of all he surveys in this place, and I am no more than his prisoner.