Page 1 of His Scandalous Duchess (Icy Dukes #4)

CHAPTER ONE

“ P apa, for the love of decorum, you will mention nothing about Aunt Marianne’s hat. Lucy is already about to lose her mind.”

“You mean that monstrosity that almost blinded me at the last function?” Howard snapped back. “I do intend to confront her about it.”

“Papa!”

Cecilia was quite certain that by the end of the evening, Lucy, her dear cousin, would be in pieces.

Everything felt frayed and frantic, and honestly, Cecilia wasn’t sure how she had ended up in the middle of it all.

This was Lucy’s problem, not hers. Yet, there she was, hours deep into the madness at the Hemroad Residence.

They had arrived early that afternoon, at Lucy’s insistence, no less.

Several letters had come over the past week, each one more breathless than the last, begging Cecilia to come at once.

Lucy was unraveling, and Cecilia, apparently, had been elected to stitch everything back together.

“Just be polite, Papa,” Emma, Cecilia’s sister, added. “It’s important that we show support.”

Howard let out a breath and turned from the window where he’d been watching the carriages arrive. “Support?” he echoed. “Tell me, Emma, where was her support when we needed it?”

Cecilia gave Emma a knowing look and sighed.

“When you were marrying the duke, do you recall your aunt’s presence then?

Because I do not,” Howard continued. “Your mother was gone, God rest her soul, and we were trying to hold ourselves together with threadbare lace and borrowed smiles. Was Marianne there to help? To lift a finger? To say a kind word?”

“Papa…” Emma tried to respond.

“Not a letter. Not a visit,” Howard went on. “But now she needs us.”

“Papa…” Cecilia stepped forward, putting up both hands in the air.

“We have already established that Aunt Marianne is nothing if not perfectly wicked, but that is not the point. We are here for Lucy, our dear cousin, who is a darling. She’s counting on me to make this day less unbearable, not more dramatic. ”

Howard clicked his tongue and walked across the room to sit.

“Can we just pretend we have gone selectively deaf today and ignore–”

The door to the drawing room swung open just as Marianne’s voice cut through the moment before Cecilia could finish her sentence. Cecilia forced a polite smile as her aunt, the Viscountess Hemroad, Marianne Crampton, strutted into the room.

Tall and slender, with dark brown hair swept into a severe chignon, Marianne wore a gown of deep emerald silk that clung to her like a second skin, emphasizing both her elegance and her unyielding nature.

Her steely gray eyes were sharp and cold, like a hawk silently judging everything and everyone in the room before she agreed to speak.

“My dear brother,” she said first, walking straight to Howard. “How nice of you to grace us with your presence. I half-expected you’d stay hidden away in protest, as you so often do when there’s joy to be celebrated.”

Howard turned to Cecilia for a short moment before turning back to Marianne, giving a tight nod. “And miss the pleasure of your company, Marianne? Unthinkable. We are here for Lucy.”

“Wonderful,” Marianne said, clasping her gloved hands together. “She’s been dreadfully nervous all morning, flitting about like a sparrow in a storm. I have no idea what the ruckus is all about. She should be elated.”

Marianne let out a soft sigh and turned her attention to Cecilia. “I’m sure your presence will do her good, Cecilia. Lucy has always loved having you around,” she said and smiled...a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It rarely ever did.

Cecilia curtsied in response. But before anyone could respond, she turned to Emma, who was standing by Cecilia’s side.

Her eyes narrowed with that familiar, falsely thoughtful gaze.

Her eyes swept over Emma slowly, beginning at her shoes, then drifting up the line of her skirts as if evaluating the seam work, the fabric, the fit.

They lingered briefly at Emma’s waist, narrowed at the bodice, and finally settled on her face.

Aunt Marianne tilted her head slightly, as if something didn’t quite add up. Her lips parted like she might say something kind, but the gleam in her eye betrayed her. “Emma, my dear,” she began sweetly. “There seems to be something different about you. Yes, you’ve gained weight. Well-fed, clearly.”

She gave a delicate, meaningless laugh and scanned the room, as if searching for approval.

Emma smiled. “It’s good to see you, too, Aunt Marianne,” she said, her voice perfectly even as she reached down to gently caress her stomach. “I’m expecting again,” she announced. “Given that there’s a baby growing inside of me, I suppose a bit of roundness is to be expected.”

A flicker of something passed over Marianne’s face, too quickly to place. She raised her eyebrows, just as she straightened her back. “Oh,” was all she said.

“My husband had business in London,” Emma continued. “So we’re only here for the season.”

“Well then,” Aunt Marianne said, straightening slightly and brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve, “I will leave you to settle in. Guests will be arriving shortly, and I must ensure the staff haven’t confused the dinner arrangements again.”

Without waiting for a response, Marianne disappeared through the doorway as swiftly as she had walked into the room.

Once she was gone, Cecilia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Thankfully, there had been no bickering, at least, not the sort she’d braced for on the ride over. Cecilia counted it a small victory.

“I think I’ll go find Lucy,” Cecilia said quickly. “Let her know that we have arrived.”

Emma nodded. “I’ll stay here with Papa until it’s time for the dinner.”

Cecilia stepped into the hallway, the quiet tap of her shoes following her down the polished floor.

The air smelled faintly of beeswax and orange blossoms, flowers that seemed to tie to the start of a new season.

It was that time of year again. Balls, dinners, and endless socializing.

The scent was supposed to feel hopeful, at least it did during her first season.

But now, it only reminded her of how unexpected the last two seasons had been.

She remembered how she had come, hoping to find love, but instead, she’d managed to annoy nearly everyone. Most of the men hadn’t cared much for her sharp tongue and stubborn opinions, and after time had passed, Cecilia had come to care less and less about expectations.

Cecilia reached Lucy’s door and knocked softly before stepping inside.

The room was quiet, bathed in the soft light filtering through lace curtains.

Lucy stood by the window, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

As soon as their eyes met, Lucy sighed in relief and rushed over to Cecilia, pulling her into an embrace.

“What took you so long!” Lucy questioned. “You should have arrived this morning!”

“We got here as quickly as we could,” Cecilia tried to explain, gently as they pulled apart. “Why on earth are you so tense, Lucy?”

Lucy shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Cecilia, this cannot be happening. It’s too sudden!”

Cecilia walked Lucy over to the bed and they both sat, holding hands. “Has he arrived? Is it certain that you will be marrying this man?”

Lucy nodded. “He’s in the study, writing to his dear Abigail.”

There was a brief pause before Cecilia tilted her head, puzzled. “Abigail?” she asked, the name catching oddly in her ears. Why, she wondered, would a man who had come to formally court his bride be tucked away in a study, writing to another woman?

“Who is Abig–”

“Oh, Cecilia, this was not my plan!” Lucy shot up from where she sat and began to pace the length of the room.

Seeing the worry etched deep in her cousin’s eyes, Cecilia decided that it was probably not the best time to question who Abigail was. So instead, she stood up, trying to decipher the best way to calm Lucy down.

“I might be able to help if I know why this troubles you so much,” she said. “I mean, from what I hear, this gentleman is a duke, no?”

Lucy stopped pacing and turned to face Cecilia with a conflicted look on her face. “Yes, he is. He is a duke. He is handsome, well-mannered from what I have heard, and of good standing in society.” Her voice faltered. “But it all feels… off.”

Cecilia raised a brow. “Off how?”

Lucy sank back into the bed, folding her hands tightly in her lap.

“You recall how it was during your debut season? How we would write to each other about the London season? What you thought this was going to be like, how you dreamed of the dances, and the balls and love. I looked forward to my debut because of your letters, Cecilia. This isn’t what I imagined. ”

Cecilia smiled faintly. “Well, my last two seasons were eventful, to say the least. But not in the way I’d imagined as a girl scribbling dreams onto paper.

Also, I didn’t want to worry you too much, so I only told you the good things.

” She paused as thoughts flashed through her mind.

“Did I ever tell you about Lord Pearlton and his dreams of building a brood the size of a cricket team?”

Lucy finally smiled. “You did.”

“He said – quite seriously, mind you – that his greatest ambition was to have at least a dozen children, and that he needed a wife who would ‘get to work immediately.’ He actually once said I’d make a ‘fine breeder’ when he was speaking to me about marriage.”

Lucy let out a surprised bark of laughter, one hand flying to her mouth. “You’re joking! It’s amazing how you got rid of him.”

“Well, thankfully, my sister’s husband stepped in and got him to leave me be,” Cecilia said.

Lucy shook her head, laughter still in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had been in your shoes.”