Page 2 of The Cursed Duke (Wayward Dukes' Alliance #19)

July 19, 1815

Masterson House

Portman Square

Mayfair, England

Miss Hannah Masterson, middle daughter of Baron Frowley, frowned at her reflection in the looking glass of the bedchamber she shared with one of her younger sisters. In moments, she would join her family in the drawing room, for it was the evening of her thirtieth birthday, which made the coming dinner more special than a usual day.

Though not by much.

“What do you think of this color on me, Penny?” She turned this way and that in front of the mirror and still couldn’t decide if she liked the sky-blue taffeta.

Her sister, who was five years younger, pursed her lips as she looked Hannah up and down with a critical eye. “Well, on the one hand, the color brings out more of the blue in your eyes, so that is a lovely thing, and silver beads on the skirt make you sparkle. But on the other hand, the bodice is plain and square, which does nothing for your figure which is large to begin with.”

At least her sister was honest.

“I am not that much bigger than the type of lady who is popular in the ton , am I?” Though she’d always struggled with her weight, and yes, she was probably two stone larger than her two sisters, she couldn’t help it. Not even the exercise of walking or being a good horsewoman would help keep her form in check.

Penny shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” She peered into the looking glass herself, and, of course, she was a dream in pink satin that showed her slim figure to advantage.

Though she managed to hold her tongue, Hannah briefly rolled her gaze to the ceiling before moving away from the looking glass. Since there was nothing she could do with the extra padding or curves, she tried to dress to her best advantage, but she was well aware of her appearance. Her face was fuller than her sisters’, her hips rounder, her belly a bit bigger, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worthy of attention or respect.

“Well, it’s my birthday, and I think the gown is amazing on me. I shall have fun at dinner tonight, and perhaps Mama will let us walk down the street to visit the Broward girls afterward.” Truly, they were her only friends these days, since all the girls she’d Come Out with had all been married and were raising families of their own.

Penny grunted. “You can go by yourself. I don’t care for Emily Broward. She steals men from other girls.”

It was a valid complaint, because the war had already taken so many eligible men and removed them from circulation, limiting the pool for an ever-expanding flock of women who wished to marry.

“Then perhaps Mama would let me take a quick ride after dinner.” If she’d had her druthers, Hannah would spend all her time with horses, in any capacity, for she loved the animals so much.

“I’ll wager she won’t. No doubt we’ll sit in the drawing room before dinner is called, and she’ll agonize that her second daughter has reached the ancient age of thirty and is now officially a spinster.” Penny shot her an affectionate grin. “It’s one of Mama’s favorite topics.”

“I wish it weren’t so.” Every year that went by with her unmarried proved worse than the one before, because now her mother was desperate not to be considered a failure by society because her second daughter hadn’t properly launched.

After four Seasons, her parents had given up, and the remainder of their coin was centered on Penny, who rumor had it, would no doubt snag a man high on the instep this year, for she was the clear beauty of the Masterson family.

Hannah blew out a breath. “Can I help it if women like me are never in fashion or style? I am congenial toward everyone, and am quite helpful, yet I sit with the wallflowers every year through the social season.” Eventually the wallflowers either went back to the country, or they were married off to desperate men with empty titles or soldiers who needed matched. And she hated every moment of it. Suffering through embarrassment was a complete waste of time that she might fill with other things.

If only her mother would give her that freedom.

“Come on, Hannah. Mama will grouse if we go down too late.” Then Penny left the room, leaving her to her thoughts.

I am thirty today and still unwanted.

How was it that a woman attained such an age and never had a man interested in her? Not one man had extended an invitation, had asked her to dance, or had expressed curiosity in doing anything with her in the seven years since she’d first been given a Season. Almost from the first she’d been relegated to the wallflower crowd, forced to sit on the sides of every ballroom she’d stepped foot in to watch the world go by and pretend to be happy for her friends who’d found matches. At this point, she’d seen so many friends come and go, it made her feel old and stodgy to even attend a society function.

I might as well don a mobcap and find a cane.

How had things come to this pass? Were men truly that shallow as to prefer rail thin women over ones who were on the larger side despite what women like her had to give?

It never failed to boggle her mind. With nothing else to do in her room, Hannah made her way down to the drawing room. Despite her sister’s lukewarm enthusiasm for the gown, her confidence was high, for she liked the color and how the fabric felt against her skin. The reason she looked forward to her birthday was quite simple: it was the one time of year when she was celebrated and the day and night belonged to her, and the whole of her family needed to pay full attention to her. That made her happy, for usually the rest of the year, she was overlooked and put out of mind for being a societal—and a familial—failure.

When she entered, she smiled, for having her family gathered made her happy. Her father stood by one of the open windows with his hands clasped behind his back; he was quite handsome in his evening clothing. “Good evening, Papa.”

“Happy birthday, poppet,” he greeted in his typical gruff-sounding voice, for he was a bear of a man who took his duties as a baron quite seriously. When in the country, he also served as a constable.

“Thank you.” She moved to the chair where her mother sat and leaned in so she could buss her cheek. “You are quite lovely tonight, Mama.” The gown of bronze taffeta was stunning with her mother’s skin tone and her blue eyes, which was one of the features Hannah had inherited from her.

“It was a sound purchase.” Her mother frowned as she ran her gaze up and down Hannah’s form. “You know, dear, that gown washes you out. Next time the modiste is in, choose jewel tones.”

With an impressive amount of willpower, she tamped down the urge to lash out with anger, but instead, she nodded and didn’t remind her mother that she’d wanted deeper-hued gowns when they had clothing done up for the Season, but her mother had said since she was still unmarried, she should keep to pale colors or pastels.

Penny, of course, was already there, seated on a low sofa with a piece of embroidery in her lap, but Hannah greeted her older sister Beatrice, whom she hadn’t seen in a month. Beatrice was a few years older than her, and last year, she’d been the toast of the family connection by bringing the second son of a viscount up to scratch and ending the year with a wedding.

“Good evening, Bea. Lovely to see you again.” Then she bounced her gaze to her newish brother-in-law, Johnathan Yeardly. “You as well, Johnathan.”

Her sister smiled. She was as winsome and beautiful as she’d always been, and though she and Hannah shared the same sandy-blonde hair, somehow Bea’s looked thicker and shinier, and the little escaped tendrils curled lovingly on her nape and temples, while the same coif on her made her seem a bit deranged or escaped from Bedlam.

“I’m glad to come for dinner. It is your birthday, after all.” There was something quite glowing about her gaze this evening, and when she moved closer to her husband and clasped his hand, her grin was dazzling. “In fact, there is something Johnathan and I wanted to announce to the family, and tonight is as good a time as any.”

“Oh? Is all well, dear?” her mother asked as everyone in the room trained their gazes on Beatrice.

“It is.” Bea nodded and appeared so serene that Hannah narrowed her eyes. She sneaked a glance at her husband and when he gave her a nod, she positively beamed. “I am increasing!”

“How wonderful!” Immediately, her mother left the chair to rush at Bea and then embrace her. “When shall we expect the babe?”

“Sometime in January of next year.”

Then Penny and their father joined the happy parents-to-be, and Hannah’s enjoyment of the one day a year that should celebrate her slipped quickly away.

Her mother glanced over her shoulder. “Hannah, are you not happy for your sister?”

Tamping the urge to sigh, she nodded. “I am, of course, but it is my birthday, and everyone is supposed to be celebrating me.”

Bea chuckled. “Don’t be stingy, sis. This is happy news, where as you have officially become a spinster. Where is the joy in that?” She bestowed a grin on Hannah, as if that was supposed to smooth over everything. “You can throw all your energy into being a doting aunt.”

“Of course, because I can’t aspire to anything else, correct?” Unfortunately, she’d spoken the thought aloud instead of leaving it in her head. When every member of her family stared at her as if she’d just put forth the idea of shaving their heads, she blew out a breath. “Could I please be allowed to celebrate my birthday without it being overshadowed? I look forward to this dinner every year.”

“Don’t be selfish, dear,” her mother said as the butler appeared at the door and rang a hand bell to signal dinner was ready to be served. “Babies will always have more importance. You would know that if you had married years ago when we’d hoped.”

“To whom? I don’t recall a man ever showing an interest.”

“Perhaps if you were bubblier and more approachable like your sisters, you might have had better luck.” Her mother led the way out of the drawing room and then across the corridor into the dining room, where they all filed around the table to the chairs they always sat in.

“Just because I’m not as outgoing as Penny or Bea doesn’t mean there is something inherently wrong with me, and that is the only reason men don’t look my way.”

Penny sat beside her. “Perhaps the gents can feel that you’re not interested in marriage. Probably turns them off.”

She gawked at her younger sister. “That’s not true at all. At no point have I ever said I was averse to marriage.” The truth was, she might like to have a husband, but after so many years of attending society events where she was consistently passed over, she needed to acknowledge a match just wasn’t going to come to fruition for her. “Spending time with horses is much easier.” If given a chance—and the funding—she might enjoy breeding thoroughbreds and hunters, but unfortunately all those dreams hinged on being married.

Because women were not given as many freedoms to do anything outside of the norms as men. That was a truth that couldn’t be universally ignored.

“Do stop moping, poppet,” her father said from the head of the rectangular-shaped table as the first course was brought in—a lovely creamy mushroom soup. “Support your sisters since they are moving forward in their lives. That is what you have in yours now.”

And with that, there was nothing more to say.

With tears stinging her eyes, Hannah did her best to enjoy the soup course while her family discussed the various invitations they’d received for society events through the autumn as well as the possibility of spending the Christmastide holidays at her father’s country estate in Hampsteadshire. That was if Bea was able to travel in her condition. Or perhaps they could remove there early enough that she could possibly have the babe there.

Something inside Hannah snapped. What was supposed to be her special day had been swept under the proverbial rug in lieu of more exciting news according to her family. That hurt cut through every level of her heart and reached her soul.

“Actually, I do have news that I have been keeping to myself.”

All conversation ceased in the room as everyone stared at Hannah. Even the footman paused in his duties at the sideboard.

“Oh?” One of her mother’s eyebrows lifted in question. “What is it, dear?”

More than annoyed with her family’s attitude, Hannah’s mind raced, and before she could recall them, words tumbled out of her mouth, quite damning in their meaning. “I know you think I am incapable of attracting a man, but you are wrong.” She paused as her heartbeat accelerated. Surely, she would go to hell for this lie. “No thanks to any of you, but a couple of months ago, I met a man and after a bit, he fell madly in love with me.”

Shocked silence brewed through the room, so heavy it could be cut with a knife.

“What?” It was Penny who broke the silence. Her eyes rounded as she regarded Hannah. “You have a man in your life?”

“I do.” At least in her head, for she hadn’t gained the age of thirty without dreaming about a man at night in her bed when she had the world to herself. In her dreams and her imagination, the hero who’d won her heart was larger than life, and if he was a knight of old, his armor was a bit dented and dinged.

Her mother her shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell us before, when you first met him?”

Why indeed. Hannah shrugged as she calmly finished her soup. It was quite… fun seeing her family at sixes and sevens with her holding all the power. “I wanted to keep the happy news to myself, but there is more.”

“How much more could there possibly be?” Beatrice wanted to know as she pushed her bowl of soup away from her. Perhaps it didn’t agree with her.

As Hannah’s mind raced, she blurted out yet another on-dit that would see her into trouble. “He is a duke.”

More shock went around the table. This time it was her father who broke the silence.

“Well, who is it, poppet? And my next question is, why didn’t the bounder come talk to me before paying his addresses to you?”

Before she could respond, Penny snorted.

“You’re dissembling. I don’t believe any of it.” Poppy’s expression said it all. “I don’t believe a girl like you could ever make a duke talk to you let alone be charming enough to have him fall in love with you.”

Heat slapped at her cheeks. She had to make the tale more convincing. “I most certainly am not lying.” With the shake of her head, she swallowed down her annoyance as well as the fear of what would happen once the truth came out. “And you have no idea what sort of woman I am. At least one man out there likes who I am because,” she cleared her throat and quickly swallowed, “we are to be married quite soon.”

Another wave of chaos went through the dining room.

Her mother shook her head. “Why did you keep this a secret?” Suddenly, there was a gleam in her eye, not of happiness but of how such a story would affect her own social standing.

“Because I wanted to tell you on my birthday, the day set aside once a year to celebrate me.” A bit of pride welled in her chest, and she hadn’t had that in a very long time. “So yes, I have landed a duke and we are to be married.” Then she grinned, for she was largely enjoying this. What would happen when said duke never materialized since she’d invented him from her imagination, she didn’t know, but for now, she was having fun. Perhaps later she would concoct another story of a broken engagement or a tragic death.

But not today.

As the footman collected soup dishes, her father rapped a hand upon the tabletop.

“Who is this mysterious duke, then? I want to know if he goes to my club or if I know of him to begin with. Contracts need to be discussed and signed.”

Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought to think up a name.

Hannah refused to let her story come tumbling down about her ears just because she hadn’t properly prepared. “He’s the Duke of…” Dear heavens, she needed a name that sounded legitimate, but she had never met a duke. As her family looked back with expressions of expectation, she sighed. “The Duke of Steppingford.” That had a nice, lofty ring to it, didn’t it? “And as I said, we both wished to keep the relationship a secret because—”

Her mother’s squeal interrupted the remainder of whatever she would have said. “We need to throw a rout, Henry!” She clapped her hands. “An engagement rout to celebrate Hannah and the fact she won’t die a spinster.” When her mother beamed at her, Hannah stifled a groan. “You did well, dear. A duke in the family! Who would have imagined that? And with a girl like you landing him. Amazing!”

Good Lord, a rout, which would thrust her directly into the heart of society. “But I—”

“Nonsense, dear. Now is not the time for shyness. You’re marrying a duke.” Her grin was exactly that of what a cat must look like after eating the family canary. “I must make certain to invite all my friends so they’ll see that my daughter will be a duchess. Then we need to discuss wedding details. There is so much to do and very little time to do it in.”

“Well, drat,” Hannah whispered as the footman brought out the next course—roasted quail in a mustard sauce.

From beside her, Penny snorted with laughter. “You’re in for it now.”

She shook her head. “It’s not a lie.” Perhaps if she said it enough, it would be real, even if that was ridiculous. “I meant the whole trouble Mama is going to.”

“Doesn’t matter. At the end of whatever this is, there will be hell to pay.”

Would those be prophetic words? Only time would tell.