Page 48

CHAPTER ONE

“ I beg your pardon, miss?”

Catherine Lennox inhaled deeply, doing her best to remain a picture of grace, despite her disheveled appearance and exhausted frame.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I didnae—did not expect the journey to take so long. I’ve never been to London before, ye—you see. I would have been better prepared had I known it was going to be such a tedious journey.”

Catherine hoped that her speech struggles went unnoticed by the man standing before her, feeling nervous about embarrassing herself and her family before she had even gotten the chance to meet her husband-to-be.

“I am sorry that you had such an exhausting trip, miss, but I am afraid I still do not know who you are or your business at Rosehall Estate,” the man said, his expression apologetic.

“What do ye—you mean? I am Miss Catherine Lennox, the Baron Spranklin’s daughter. And I am the Duke’s bride-to-be. Did—did you not know I was arriving today?” Catherine asked, her heart sinking suddenly.

The man’s face paled, and he hurriedly bowed to her.

“My goodness—Your Grace—I mean, my deepest apologies, Miss Lennox. We were not expecting you to arrive at all. His Grace had expressed doubts on whether or not the Baron would be willing to part with his daughter and thus—do not fret. I am Mr. Oswald, the butler at Rosehall Estate,” he stated, anxiously glancing behind him.

Catherine had assumed as much, from the lack of reception upon arrival. Their assumptions were not far off, as her father had, in fact, been a tad reluctant to let her take on this duty. But just as he had always put his family first, she was intent on doing the same for their family.

Still, it was rather disconcerting to find no one waiting to welcome her, but she did not wish to dwell on it. After all, she had bigger concerns than this.

It took a notable amount of strength to keep herself from gripping her dress in an effort to force her tongue not to speak the way it had since her birth. Her gaze remained on the butler, unwavering and determined not to allow him to look down on her.

After all, she was to become the Duchess of Rosehall.

“I understand that you might have been preoccupied with other tasks, Mr. Oswald. It is no fault of yours that this has happened. Water under the bridge.” Catherine smiled brightly, not wanting to give the impression that she was harsh or difficult to deal with. “Now that I am here, might I?—”

“W-Wait, Miss Lennox,” the butler interrupted as she tried to step into the house.

“This is not the right time. The Duke is… a tad preoccupied at the moment. Perhaps you could wait at the house of a relative? Only for a while, so that we can inform him of your arrival and prepare to receive you properly.”

Catherine stared at him, confused and slightly worried.

“I do not have any relatives here. Were you really told nothing about me? There is no place for me to go because my sole purpose for being here is to marry the Duke.”

As the minutes ticked by, the worry within her started to turn into panic. She had traveled all the way from Scotland on her own for this purpose. The thought of her mission being in jeopardy filled her with immense fear.

Throughout the entire carriage ride, she had imagined a large, warm reception, expecting to be eased into the new life she was meant to lead.

She already had enough concerns over marrying a man she had never met, and the unnerving taste it left in her mouth had kept her up for several nights in a row.

“I do not have anywhere else?—”

A burst of giggles cut her off, and she lifted her eyes in the direction they had come from.

At the top of the staircase descended a man, flanked by two women who apparently couldn’t stop touching him. Their giggles seemed to echo through the house as they walked down, the man giving off waves of irrefutable charm with an air of danger.

His dark brown hair reminded Catherine of the glass of rum her father drank whenever he was consumed by his fears, and his blue eyes seemed to glow with mischief and confidence.

He was dressed strangely—at least to Catherine—in a robe that hung loosely over his shoulders and a pair of trousers that clung to his hips. His confidence told her that he was the owner of the house, and therefore her husband-to-be.

Again, Catherine found herself struggling to stay focused, unable to keep her eyes from wandering down his exposed torso and striking face. She was not used to seeing men bare in such a manner, and it was clear that this man was quite attractive. Likely more than any man she had ever come across.

One of the women placed her hand on his chest, and Catherine couldn’t help but follow the trail of her touch, her eyes tracing the ridges and curves of muscles that made him seem more godlike than a mere mortal.

When she had gotten hold of her bearings, she was soon overcome by fury.

This man was to become her husband in less than a day, and here he was, fooling around with not just one but two women!

How dare he!

She seethed silently, angry at the blatant display.

Finally, the Duke noticed them by the door, and a curious expression graced his features.

“Oswald, who is that woman?”

“Your Grace?—”

“I am your bride-to-be, Your Grace,” Catherine announced, glaring at the women still clinging to him.

Their faces immediately dimmed with disappointment, and one of them asked, “Bride-to-be? You are getting married, Your Grace?”

“That’s not possible. I hadn’t fully accepted?—”

“You did not dismiss the offer. In fact, a date has already been set. One you apparently agreed to,” Catherine cut him off, unable to keep herself from flinching when his eyes darkened. “Your Grace.”

The Duke’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise for a moment, then the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk as his eyes roamed over her. She fought down a shiver as he studied her, feeling a little too aware of her slightly unkempt state after the long journey in the cold weather.

She wished she had gotten the chance to freshen up before she met him—she was mildly overcome with embarrassment.

“How interesting,” he mused with a grin that told her to be wary of him, as he did not seem like someone she should take lightly.

One of the women by his side reached out to hold his hand, her lips in a pleading pout, only for her to gasp in shock when he pushed her hand away.

“Leave, now. Your presence is no longer necessary,” he instructed plainly, his formerly open expression now tinged with a severity that left no room for argument.

Catherine couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were fixed on her disheveled form, as though there were no other people in the room but them.

“Surely, you jest, Your Grace,” one of the women said, trying to reach for him.

“She will not compare to—” the other started to say, only to fall silent when the Duke held up a hand.

He wasn’t looking at them anymore. His gaze was firmly fixed on Catherine, whose confidence continued to dwindle at the intense way in which he stared at her.

It was as though the air around them had turned heavy and thick, the lighthearted mirth evaporating as the women paled. Quickly, they left his side without another word, both of them giving Catherine looks of disdain as they walked out of the house.

“See to it that her things are taken care of and escort her to her chambers, Oswald,” the Duke instructed the butler, before shifting his gaze to Catherine. “Wash up and rest for a bit. We will talk in my study in an hour. Oswald will bring you to me then.”

He gave her one last lingering look, then turned and walked away.

It felt as though Catherine could breathe freely now with his gaze off her, and she exhaled deeply, confused by the anxious thrumming of her heart. For some reason, she felt more nervous now than she had been once it had been decided that she would marry the Duke.

“Right this way, Miss Lennox,” Oswald called, drawing her attention.

“Right.” Catherine swallowed, following the butler as she tried to ignore the lingering image of her husband-to-be in her head.

“There she is,” the Duke said, with a sharp grin. “My bride. Or so she claims.”

“That is what I am, Your Grace,” Catherine stated, feeling the familiar itch of anxiety creep beneath her skin. “I would appreciate it very much if you did not make it sound as though I am lying or jesting.”

“Then you should come to terms with the fact that mine is the only voice of authority here,” he said darkly. “You think too highly of yourself. After all, I never officially agreed to marry you. I can change my mind if I wish, and send you right back from whence you came.”

“But you won’t. Because if you were going to, you would have done so long ago, when the idea was suggested,” she pointed out, ignoring how her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

Catherine wished to snap back at him, but she knew that it would be unwise to jeopardize their potential union.

The Duke watched her for a moment silently.

“It seems your father did not instill in you a sense of wariness of strangers. You will soon learn, I expect. I trust your chambers are comfortable. However, if you need anything changed, say the word and it will be done immediately,” he instructed in a dismissive tone.

Catherine shook her head, a little on edge after his initial statement. “It is all fine, thank you.”

Now that they were alone, Catherine could afford to properly study the face of her groom, slightly begrudging the fact that he somehow managed to look even more handsome now than he had earlier.

Sampson Richards, the Duke of Rosehall, was every bit the man she imagined him to be, and more.

He stood tall and self-assured, his strong build portraying the strength behind his carefree expression. Although his lips bore a playful, knowing smirk, his blue eyes studied her every movement as she placed herself before him.

It was all she could do not to squirm beneath his heavy gaze, not liking the way he made her skin tingle just by looking at her.