Page 26 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Simon gave an approving nod. “Well done, Graves. You have outdone yourself.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Graves replied, nodding deferentially. “I live only to please.”

Peering out the window, Simon saw carriages beginning to line the drive. “It seems the guests are arriving. Give the footmen their final orders.”

“Right away, Your Grace,” Graves responded before marching off, his back ramrod straight as he prepared to receive the prestigious visitors.

Alone again briefly, Simon took a deep, steadying breath and schooled his features into an impassive mask.

The dye was cast. Time to greet the players in this evening’s drama.

Squaring his shoulders, Simon turned and strode toward the drawing room, where voices indicated the first attendees had begun filtering in.

Showtime.

As Simon entered, a false smile perfectly painted, he already felt exhaustion creeping in around the edges of his facade. How long until he could seek respite? Still, duty called now.

“Lady Pembroke, delighted you could come,” Simon addressed a young lady warmly.

Time passed in a blur of pleasantries, polite laughter, and pandering to egos. Simon played his part flawlessly, the elegant host entertaining with practiced charm. Yet, his gaze continually drifted to the ornate doors, awaiting the arrival of the lady of the hour.

CHAPTER8

The carriage rattled down the winding country road, carrying Victoria and her family toward Hayward Manor for the Duke’s weekend house party. Victoria gazed out the window, taking in the lush green countryside and trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in her stomach. In just a few hours, she would need to pretend to be happily betrothed to the vile Oliver Reynolds, all to protect her dear sister Aurora’s secret.

“Oh, I do hope the Dowager Duchess is in good spirits,” Madeline said nervously across from her. “I’ve heard she can be quite… particular.”

Victoria squeezed her cousin’s hand reassuringly. Madeline had spent her life in the countryside and was unaccustomed to the grandeur and scrutiny of high society.

“I’m sure Her Grace will be an excellent hostess,” Victoria said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. The Dowager Duchess had a reputation for being cold and severe, much like her son, the Duke. What a pair they made.

Lord Newton sat beside Madeline, scowling out the window. He had barely spoken since they left Newton House, no doubt brooding over Aurora’s situation.

Victoria bit her lip. Their family’s future depended on her playing this part convincingly. She must not fail.

As the manor came into view, rising majestically above sculpted gardens, Victoria straightened her shoulders. This was it. Time to begin the charade.

The carriage rolled to a stop by the front steps. Liveried footmen rushed forward to open the doors and unfold the steps. Victoria allowed one to assist her down, then turned to take in her surroundings.

Hayward Manor was even grander than she had imagined, a sprawling Elizabethan structure of warm gray stone and leaded windows that glittered in the morning sun. Ivy crawled up the walls, and topiaries dotted the lawns and gardens. It looked like something from a fairy tale.

Madeline’s eyes were wide. “Oh my, it’s splendid!”

Victoria gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Indeed. Now, remember, back straight and chin up. You are the niece of an earl.”

Madeline nodded, squaring her shoulders.

The Earl descended behind them, top hat in hand and walking stick tapping on the drive. He looked around skeptically as if searching for flaws.

Victoria bit back a sigh. The Earl always seemed to think he had something to prove, a chip on his shoulder from not being born to a higher title. It was that insecurity that had driven him to promise Aurora a lofty match, one that now seemed impossible.

The great double doors opened, and their host emerged. Victoria’s breath caught at the sight of him.

Simon, The Duke of Hayward cut an imposing figure, broad-shouldered and powerful in a dark jacket and trousers, his dark hair gleaming in the morning sun. His face was classically handsome but aloof, jaw tight, and dark brown eyes unreadable as they swept over his guests.

When those eyes met Victoria’s, she had to suppress a shiver. It was like staring into two endless pools.

The Duke bowed. “Lord Newton, Lady Victoria, Miss Russell. Welcome to Hayward Manor.”

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