Page 24 of My Blind Duke (The Twisted Dukes #5)

T wo days had passed since Prudence’s quiet declaration of leaving Pemberly, and for William, the estate felt both too vast and suffocatingly small. Every corner seemed to whisper her absence, every familiar scent carried a faint echo of her presence. He found himself caught in a relentless cycle of anger at her decision, a feeling strangely akin to betrayal, and a gnawing emptiness that settled deep in his chest.

He had busied himself with estate matters, poring over ledgers and dictating correspondence to his steward, but his thoughts kept straying, circling back to the sound of Prudence’s resolute voice as she had stated her intention to depart.

“Another blasted invitation,” William grumbled, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering on the card Jefferson had just placed in his hand. “The Duchess of Larsen. What does she want now?”

He had little patience for the social machinations of the ton, finding their endless round of balls and gatherings utterly pointless.

“The Duchess of Larsen is a gracious hostess, Your Grace,” Jefferson replied diplomatically. “And such events often provide networking opportunities.”

“Networking for what?” William scoffed, tossing the invitation onto his desk. “I am blind. I have no interest in securing advantageous marriages or bolstering my social standing. My concerns lie with Melanie and the smooth running of this estate.”

Just then, the marquess of Montclair, strolled into the study, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Come now, Your Grace,” he said, his voice laced with his usual easy charm. “Do not be so quick to dismiss such an invitation. The Duchess of Larsen’s balls are always well-attended, a veritable who-is-who of the aristocracy. It would be an excellent opportunity to cultivate connections, perhaps even find some advantageous business partners who could further secure Melanie’s future.”

William sighed, rubbing his temples wearily. “Montclair, you have grown rather fond of dropping by, unannounced, and it has grown rather tiresome. And honestly, I scarcely have the time or the inclination for such foolishness. My mind is occupied with far more pressing matters.”

Namely, the infuriatingly independent woman who was rather insistent on leaving his home.

William could quite literally hear the marquess’ smile grow, a hint of something calculating inflecting in his tone.

“Ah, yes, the duchess,” he said smoothly. “Speaking of whom, Your Grace, this ball could present a rather… opportune occasion.”

William frowned, his gaze fixed on the marquess’ general direction. “Opportune in what way?”

“Well,” the marquess continued, his voice carefully casual, “When last we spoke, you mentioned your desire to see her Grace settled. What better place to introduce her to several eligible gentlemen? It would be a perfectly respectable way to facilitate her finding a suitable husband, thus… alleviating any potential awkwardness surrounding her continued residence here. Especially as your investigator has unheartened possible proof that it is unlikely she is the culprit.”

For a moment, William felt bad for the marquess, understanding that he was likely disappointed that he could not get justice for his friend at the end of the day.

“I am sorry that we could not do more on behalf of Anthony. But I have asked the investigator to keep searching. Someone did kill him and we must bring whoever the culprit is to justice.”

“I greatly appreciate that, Your Grace,” Hugo stated, gratitude evident in his voice. “In the meantime, you have helped me dismiss the hatred I had for an innocent woman. The least I could do is help her find a husband to rely on.”

A cold knot tightened in William’s stomach. He recalled his own suggestion, made in a moment of confused frustration, that finding Prudence a husband might be the best solution. Truly, he had expressed that he wished for Prudence to find some semblance of peace after all she had been forced to endure, while they had been investigating her involvement in the death of her late husband during their work travels.

At the time, the marquess had brought up remarriage as a solution for the duchess, an idea that William had immediately dismissed, unable to stomach the wave of discomfort that grew within him at the idea of letting some man sweep Prudence off her feet.

Now, hearing the marquess articulate the plan so clearly, a fresh wave of distaste washed over him. He disliked the idea of Prudence being courted by other men even more now, the thought stirring a possessive anger he had not anticipated. He realized, with a jolt, that Hugo had skillfully steered him toward this very conclusion, preying on his initial uncertainty and his desire to see Prudence’s reputation restored.

Despite his growing discomfort, the logic, however unpalatable, remained. It was a way to ensure Prudence’s future, to provide her with the security she seemed determined to seek elsewhere.

And perhaps , a selfish voice whispered within him, it was the only way to truly distance myself from the magnetic pull she exerted over me.

With a reluctant sigh, William picked up the invitation once more. “Very well,” he said, his tone grudging. “I suppose we should attend. Jefferson, inform Her Grace that I would be pleased if she would accompany me to the Duchess of Larsen’s ball.”

“The duke requested I inform you that he would be pleased if you were to accompany him to a ball hosted by the Duchess of Larsen.”

Although Prudence received the invitation with a polite nod, her expression was unreadable as she tried to understand the machinations behind such a decision.

She could not seem to fathom why William was acting this way, giving her hope that perhaps she had a chance to remain at his side as more than just a scorned tenant as he simultaneously dashed it, attempting to cling to her even after he had told her he could not be what she wanted. Prudence was determined to move on and move out from Pemberly estate, but she wished it was easier on her.

“All right. Please inform the duke that I would be honored to accompany him to the ball,” she agreed begrudgingly.

Perhaps it can be my final social obligation before I leave , she thought bleakly. One last appearance as the Duchess of Pemberly.

When the night of the ball came, Prudence found herself burdened to look her very best, if not for herself, then for the duke she was to accompany. She had not made any new dresses recently, but there was one she had specially made to wear during her first official outing as a duchess.

She had dreamt about it, about looking every bit the part of a duchess and a wife, in hopes that she could fulfill every other role and task as she waited for her heart to eventually claim her husband as the one she was meant for.

But that day never came.

Prudence was a little surprised it still fit like a glove, the red silk feeling soft and warm beneath her touch. She asked Anna to put her hair up for her, twisted into an elegant updo decorated with jeweled pins that sparkled like stars in her hair.

When she came down the stairs, she found William and Melanie talking, the little girl wanting to accompany them, looking disheartened that she could not have her way.

“One day, you can freely do as you wish. I would be honored to have you on my arm for an entire evening. But as of now – and the foreseeable future, you are not allowed to attend social events,” William said gently.

“That is not fair, Papa. The ‘foreseeable future’ could be ages away. And I am a lad–” Melanie gasped suddenly as her gaze fell on Prudence and she squealed excitedly, clinging to her father’s arm. “Papa! Papa! Prudence is here and she looks like a princess! I have never seen anyone more beautiful than she is!”

Prudence blushed as she came to a stop in front of the father-daughter duo, reaching out to gently caress Melanie’s cheek fondly.

“Why thank you, darling,” she smiled sweetly.

When her focus shifted to William, her heart quaked in the face of how handsome he looked, marveling at his clean and dapper appearance.

“A princess, hm?” he wondered out loud, smiling slightly. “I do not doubt that for a moment.”

A deeper rush of heat flooded her face and dripped down her cheeks, sinking lower into her stomach.

“Thank you,” Prudence managed, lowering her gaze to the floor. “You look quite good yourself.”

“Shall we?” William held his arm out to her.

A part of her was terrified over the prospect of being so close to him, with her heart chained to her wrist, but as she stepped toward him, she could not help but cling to him, already drunk off his scent.

“Do not stay awake for too long,” William told Melanie, drawing her closer with a hand under her chin and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams, my dear.”

Melanie beamed, hugging him. “Have a good evening, Papa.” To Prudence, she gave a hug as well and wished the same.

“Good night, dearest.” Prudence cooed, before following William as he led her outside.

The carriage ride to the Larsen estate was quiet because Prudence was determined to keep a line drawn between them. And it seemed that William had a lot on his mind as well, as he made no move to foster any conversation between them.

Soon, they arrived at the Larsen’s dwelling and were ushered into the grand ballroom. The room was a storm of visuals and sounds, with glittering chandeliers, elegantly dressed guests, and the lively strains of the orchestra assaulted Prudence’s senses.

Scarcely had they been introduced to the event by the master of the ceremonies when the Marquess of Montclair appeared at their side. Prudence had crossed paths with him a few times before and after Anthony’s passing and was well aware he harbored no pleasant feelings toward her. But tonight, it seemed he had begun to see her in a different light, with his charm turned up to full wattage as he began to introduce her to a succession of seemingly eligible gentlemen.

From Prudence’s perspective, it felt like a carefully orchestrated parade. She felt dizzy and overwhelmed, with a twinge of embarrassment as she was paraded about like some show pony being promised to the public with the claims of not being as defective as one would believe.

She went through the motions with as much dignity as she could muster, offering polite smiles and engaging in stilted conversations, all the while knowing that her heart was not in it. Her thoughts were on William, wishing he was the one lavishing her with attention, her heart already missing his presence.

The men, however, were undeniably eager. They flocked around her, showering her with compliments on her appearance, her grace, and even the tragic circumstances of her late husband. Some were merely polite, offering conventional flirtations. But others, emboldened by the whispers and rumors that had undoubtedly reached their ears, were far more presumptuous.

“Duchess,” a portly gentleman with a lascivious gleam in his eye murmured, leaning in close enough for Prudence to detect the faint scent of stale wine, “I hear widowhood can be… quite liberating. Perhaps you would care to share some of your newfound freedoms with a man who truly appreciates a woman of… experience?”

“That cannot be right, Lord Ferguson,” William interjected with an expression far too innocent to be considered genuine. “From what I have heard about you, your own ‘experiences’ are few and far between – due to more than half the ton carrying information about your impotency. But you know, rumors are often just rumors.”

Another, younger man, with a smug air of confidence, offered, “My dear duchess, I am not one to shy away from a woman who knows her own mind… and her own desires. I understand you have a… reputation for enjoying life to the fullest. Perhaps we could explore those inclinations further, away from the prying eyes of society?”

“You have never held comprehension of the word ‘discrete’ in your life,” William scoffed, lifting his glass to toast in their direction. “Why else are people buzzing about your rather… unorthodox riding lessons with your stable hand?”

Prudence’s cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and outrage. The blatant disrespect, and the crude assumptions based on malicious gossip, were deeply offensive. She maintained a facade of polite indifference, offering vague replies and subtly attempting to extricate herself from their unwanted attention.

Through all these interactions, William cut into conversations with mean remarks, his expression barely withholding the rage on the other side of it. Clearly, he did not like what was happening, but she could not understand why he simply refused to change his stance. William’s stubbornness hurt her, as did his decision to cast her right into the arms of another man.

“What do you like to do in your spare time, Your Grace? When you are not entertaining people with vivacious interests, like yourself?” One of the men asked, stepping too close for her comfort.

Prudence turned away, unable to keep her eyes from seeking out William again. He had been moved across the room by the marquess and was now engaged in a seemingly polite conversation with Lady Ashworth, but Prudence could see that he could barely suppress his fury.

It was strange, how it was not merely her disinterest in this farce that was keeping her mind and heart open, but merely the fact that she did not want anyone else but the one man she could not have.

“I yearn. Pathetically so.”

William could not understand why he had been so foolish.

His ears, keenly attuned in the absence of sight, picked up snippets of the men’s offensive remarks directed at Prudence. He heard their condescending tones, their crude insinuations, and the blatant disrespect in their voices. A cold rage coiled within him, a possessive protectiveness he had not fully understood until this moment. The thought of these men, these vipers of the ton, daring to speak to Prudence in such a manner sent a tremor of fury through him.

But it had been his idea, and he had forced her to be subjected to such disrespect. Interfering was out of his hands now and he did not know what more he could do.

“Some of these men might be more inclined to try their luck if you were to give them your blessing – and encourage them to approach the duchess,” Hugo intoned with a sigh, obviously displeased with the brooding William was engaged in.

“Over my dead body,” the duke mumbled with a grunt.

It seemed that the duchess herself was not having as good a time as he wanted to believe because she came over and informed him,

“A group of ladies and gents would like to stroll through the garden maze. From what I have heard, it is quite elaborate. So–”

“I will come along with you,” William said immediately.

“No, that is not necessary–”

“Oh, I insist,” William stated, noting the surprised inflection in her tone but unwilling to compromise or falter.

He was not going to let Prudence wander around in the dark with such despicable men loitering about.

“All right,” she conceded and took his arm to guide him in the right direction.

This close, he could smell her intoxicating sweet scent, could feel the warmth that he had dreamt of chasing after with more than just his hands, and regret swirled around in his chest.

Was there nothing more he could do? Nothing else that he could say to make her understand how valued she was in their home?

The cool night air and the relative seclusion of the winding paths offered a welcome respite. William, his internal fury still simmering, noticed Prudence’s form was quite tense and felt unhappy, believing he had made her uncomfortable.

“Fools, the lot of them. Ill-mannered, poorly bred and raised dimwits. How dare they behave so crassly before a duchess?” William grumbled angrily.

The thought of some of them touching her, reaching for the woman his heart desired filled his lungs with rage. He wanted to cut them apart and feed them to the dogs. But he had made this choice and he needed to keep his word.

“I know that you are upset with me, but I wish you would believe me when I say that I am doing what I think is best for you. I do not know what else to do, what with you so insistent on leaving without any aid from me,” he told her quietly after she had said nothing following his earlier statement.

Prudence sighed. “If you felt that way, then you would listen to what I have been trying to tell you, this whole time. I do not want this. To be here, to be paraded about like some prize. I have been under scrutiny for the last year of my life and I thought that you would understand me. Yet here you are, subjecting me to even more of it by having me engage with all those men I have no interest in, making yet another show of my life. If you truly cared, you would do nothing and let me go.”

Her words were a hard pill to swallow, and just as he was about to reiterate that he simply could not let her walk out of his life as she pleased, Lord Harrington approached them loudly.

“What are you doing lingering at the back like this? Come closer and join the group!” he urged.

Before William could send him away, the man had managed to pull Prudence away from his side. For a moment, William could only stand there, shock and fury flowing through his veins. Harrington was a man with a reputation for arrogance and a particularly unpleasant set of rumors swirling around him – according to what William had heard earlier that evening – and the thought of such a snake attaching himself to Prudence made the duke angry.

Quickly, William walked ahead, only slightly disconcerted by his lack of sight as he tried to find Prudence once more.

“Duchess,” William eventually caught wind of Harrington, his voice oily with insinuation as he seemed to steer Prudence even farther away from everyone else, “I find myself quite… intrigued by the whispers I have heard. A woman of your… vivacity… must have a great many secrets.”

When William got closer, he could smell Prudence’s lovely pomegranate scent, tainted by a hint of brandy as Lord Harrington continued to speak.

“Perhaps we could find a more secluded corner of this maze and share a few of them?” He reached out a hand, attempting to take hers.

Prudence recoiled slightly, a look of distaste crossing her face. “Lord Harrington,” she said, her voice cool, “I find your insinuations quite unwelcome.”

Before Harrington could press further, a firm hand clamped down on his arm.

“Lord Harrington,” William’s voice, though outwardly calm, carried a distinct undercurrent of menace that made the other man’s eyes widen. “I believe Her Grace has made her feelings quite clear. I suggest you respect them.”

Harrington, recognizing the Duke of Pemberly’s voice and recalling his formidable reputation that seemed to have also been a subject of discussion that night – both as a shrewd businessman and a man not to be trifled with – blanched. He mumbled a hasty apology and quickly melted back into the shadows of the maze.

William, his anger still simmering, turned to Prudence, his hand now gently but firmly taking her arm. Ignoring the likelihood of receiving curious glances from the remaining members of their group, he steered her away from the winding paths and back toward the brightly lit windows of the house.

Once they were inside, he did not stop, leading them further away from prying eyes and the suffocating crush of the ballroom, until he managed to lead them into a hallway. He picked the first door he could and walked in, locking the door behind them.

William was not surprised when Prudence wrenched her wrist from his grip as she whirled around to face him, her tone a mixture of bewildered hurt and lingering indignation.

“I thought,” she started softly, voice shaky, “I thought you wanted me to find a husband, Your Grace.”

William was breathing heavily, the indifference he had been trying to maintain finally shattering at his feet. Overwhelmed by a sudden, fierce wave of possessiveness, a raw protectiveness that surged through him at the memory of the men’s disrespectful words, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“Forget what I said, Prudence,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. “Forget all of it. You are mine.”

And then, he pulled her into a kiss.