Page 1 of The Virgin Duchess

Chapter One

“Confound it. I should not be out here this late.” Charlotte tugged the hood of her coat tighter around her face and neck, shivering from the chilly wind that blew over her skin.

The night was dipping into his darkest hours, and she quickened her steps, desperate to reach her estate. She’d been sneaking out like this often enough that she’d familiarized herself with the street. Still, it did nothing to keep the edge of panic from creeping up her spine. London streets were nothing to trifle with, especially in the dark.

I must make it back before Magnus notices I am missing.

Clicking sounds echoed across the cobblestones as she rushed past locked homes and closed businesses. Charlotte’s pulse was a frenetic dance in her neck, and her thoughts were consumed by the need to get back home, unnoticed by anyone else who might be out on the street.

Being caught, after all, would be the detriment of not only herself but her entire family, what few of them were left.

“…ugh…”

She stopped, her attention snapping in the direction of the low groan. It came from the shadowed alley just up ahead and to her right. It did not sound…pleasant. Frozen in place, Charlotte looked back and forth between the road ahead of her that led home and where she’d pinpointed the noise.

Charlotte should not dally. She knew this, but…

Her chest squeezed, that horrid pull of guilt that she had always been so susceptible to. What if someone was hurt? She could not stand idly by when there was a person in need. It was not in her. But if her brother found her not at home, the consequences would be dastardly.

“Leave it, Charlotte. Just go home.”

She still stood there. After a moment, she stamped her foot down onto the road and sighed.

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

As quietly as she could, Charlotte slipped down the alley, sticking to the wall where the shadow was darkest. Pushing further into the obscured space, she heard more of that groaning followed by increased commotion.

“…you understand me? I want to hear you say it.”

Rounding the corner, she halted once more, utterly shocked by what she saw. Two men were arguing with each other, one pinning the other up against the alley wall. Her hand flew up to her mouth, covering so that she might silence even her breathing. What on earth was going on?

“You don’t frighten me.” The pinned man spat at the other, the spittle landing on the taller man’s coat.

Charlotte restrained a gasp from the act, but it had served to enrage the taller man. He clenched the offender’s collar tighter, reeling back his fist high into the air. The man was going to strike the other.

“Stop!”

The word had flown out of her mouth before she could think better of it, and Charlotte’s stomach dropped.Drat.

Both men turned in her direction, and she was immediately drilled down by their glares. Shaking herself, however, Charlotte realized that she recognized the taller man, and her jaw dropped once more.

“Lord Emerton?”

Her voice barely cut through the air, but both men had heard her. Worse, Frederick, as she knew he was called, narrowed hiseyes on her, the rage contorting his features truly menacing. She’d met the man at his house when she’d been invited as a guest with Amelia, her friend, the Duchess of Blackford. Why was he now in an alley getting in a fight?

His calculating eyes raked down her frame, and Charlotte stifled a shiver. This was not the man she’d seen at that dinner party. He’d been charming and fulsome, holding true to his reputation as a terrible rake, but this…this was different.

Lord Emerton looked wholly possessed with fury—and dangerous.

“What are you?—”

But before Frederick could finish his inquiry, the man he held jabbed a knee forward and directly into the Lord’s gut. Frederick was forced backward, losing his grip on the other man’s collar. At once, the other gentleman rushed past Charlotte, paying her such little attention that he knocked her to the ground.

“Oof!” She breathed, the stone coming up to strike her in the rear enough to rattle her teeth.

The sound of the man’s sprinting steps faded into the background behind her while Frederick hurried forward in an attempt to catch him. Charlotte had only caught a glimpse of the other man, his blazing stare like daggers aimed at her head. Still, he looked vaguely familiar, something tickling at the back of her mind.

But he was gone too quickly to parse it out, and Lord Emerton was off after him like a shot. Before he could leave the alleyway, Charlotte cried out.

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