Page 1 of The One With the Scoundrel of a Duke (Wicked Widows’ League #31)

A Few Weeks Prior to her Sister’s Wedding

THE SHIMMERING PINK RADIATED joy. A tangible joy that Audra could almost grasp. Here, with her five sisters, she felt as though she could reach out and take hold of it, even if only so very briefly.

“That dress is beautiful, Freya. You look incredible,” Audra praised her sister as she watched her get fitted for her wedding dress.

“It’s not too obviously a wedding dress?” Freya asked

“No,” the five sisters chimed in like a chorus, knowing Freya’s aversion to an extravagant dress.

“It has just enough shimmer to make you glow,” Phyllis said.

“And the pink makes your cheek nice and rosy,” Florence added.

“And with the gold band—”

“Tied in a bow—”

“You look perfect.”

That baton passing was Amelia, Alice, and then Florence again.

Alice clapped her hands in delight. “Aren’t you excited, Freya?”

Freya winced as she effortfully gave what could only be interpreted as a grimace rather than the smile she was likely attempting. “Yes. I suppose that is the feeling I ought to be having.”

Anyone with half a mind could see Freya’s uncertainty, and not only could Audra see it, but she could feel it in her heart. The same heart that had loved so fully it had caused itself to burst.

“What about the same dress in blue?” Florence held up a gliimmering pale blue dress. The shimmer emanated from the fabric, but this time it didn’t radiate joy. Instead, it shone a piercing memory into Audra’s mind’s eye.

A rushing river. A flash of a hand. Holding out for hope. Then gone. Her heart wrenched within her chest.

Alice must have noticed something flash across her face, for she placed a gentle hand on her arm and voiced the thoughts Audra had. “Perhaps not the blue one, Freya. Pink really is your color. It is perfect against your blonde hair.”

“You mean our blonde hair?” Freya teased as all the blonde sisters nodded in agreement.

Alice’s fingers pressed a tight squeeze into Audra’s arm and then released her, not wanting to call attention to the moment.

Then, whether she caught the moment or not, Amelia said, “Audra, you should get a new dress, too. While we’re here.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you could,” Freya jumped on the wagon for Audra’s new dress rather enthusiastically. “You should.” Her wedding dress forgotten, she clasped her hands around Audra’s arms now. “You must.”

“You haven’t bought a new dress in ages,” Phyllis noted. “Isn’t it about time?”

About time…yes. It should be, shouldn’t it? “I-I don’t know.”

But her sisters were pushing her in front of the floor length mirrors.

One was playing with her hair, pushing it around until she found the perfect look.

Another sister was tugging on her frumpy frock, while a third had grabbed a gown from the modiste’s shop and was already draping it along the front of her body.

It was a deep, forest green. It looked…alive.

Then another sister grabbed a pale pink dress and held it in front of the green one, effectively blocking it from sight.

The five sisters oohed at the soft pink and its delicate embroidered sleeves and bodice.

“This was made for you,” Alice whispered the pronouncement.

“Perhaps.” But she had thought about something before, only to lose it. That something had been made for her, or so she thought. Where had it all gone wrong?

Yes, she had once loved, but when she lost it had split her heart wide open.

And here she was, still picking up the pieces.

She had loved Hugo, been deliriously excited to marry him.

But before a year of married life was up, he was gone…

and, well, that was nearly a decade ago.

She should be over it all. But…apparently time didn’t heal all wounds.

No. Every so often they loved to just gape wide open again causing her to not only relive the pain, but to also relive whatever healing she had gone through.

And that…whew, she exhaled a rough breath that sounded loud in her ears and hurt her throat as it made its exit…that was just it.

That was life now. Living with a moment of joy only to be saddled with a despair that fatigued her soul.

It was like treading water in the middle of the ocean with no boat or land in sight.

But here was the real punch to the gut. Every so often a boat would come by offering her water and food, but no room to take her home.

Home? Where was that anymore? And so each boat left her treading water. Forever.

Never mind the water. Forget the water. Enough water. She needed air.

“I’m going to step outside for a minute.

” And she could do that. Alone. She was a widow after all.

She could. But she never did. Not unless one counted her stays at Matron Manor with the Widows’ League.

At times she missed all the ladies, Mr. Smith (the butler) and Mrs. Cook.

But she knew they would always be there should she need them.

There was always support and comfort in that place. Especially after…the incident.

But in recent years, she’s been spending more time back at home with her sisters.

It almost felt as though they needed her.

Not as a mother figure, no, they had their aunts for that since their mother’s passing.

But somehow she felt as though they looked to her for something.

Oh. Didn’t that just sound vague? Perhaps it was all in her head then.

The warm summer air greeted her with a smile and her head gradually cleared. Breathing in the soft scents of flowers from the hanging baskets of the shops did wonders for her mind. It was exactly what she needed. The warm fragrance of the air and the soft, lulling sounds.

Sounds of people going about their day. Clicking doors open and shut to the various shops. Horses clip-clopping down the street. Life went on. Like it always did all around her.

Thinking she caught the echoes of something musical, she made her way down the street a few paces. Sure enough, there was a performer on the street with a guitar. The plucked notes of the strings floated through the air, landing on her heart.

Music was always that way with her. As if it could be the air she breathed, it always brought life.

Audra stood in admiration that the performer could be so bold as to share his skills with anyone who happened to be walking by. He was good. Very good. He had every right to share his love with the world.

And then he sang:

If e’er there were a time to love

I’ve never known it before

To have come and gone easily

Without pain, loss, and more

But after all is said and done

Tis always more than I bargained for

And to have it in full twice in a life

Should never be hoped for

Even still, hope always wins

Though I tell it to lay quiet

There’s no hope for taming hope

For it is truly love’s rival

So with hope abreast to love afloat

Fear shall be conquered

I shall not let it rear its head anymore

Only love, again and again,

and again and again,

shall be honored

The lyrics, as much as the notes, sunk deep into her soul.