Page 1 of Her Wolf of a Duke

CHAPTER 1

“Sister, you simply must have higher expectations for yourself than this!”

Emma sighed, resting her head against the cool window of the carriage. On more than one occasion, it rattled and her head bumped against it gently, but she paid it no mind. In fact, she hoped she might hit her head even harder and therefore not have to listen to another word from her younger sister.

She had thought it made perfect sense for her not to search for suitors herself during their trip, but Sarah clearly had other ideas. She disagreed with them completely, of course, as they were not at all aligned with her own: find Sarah a husband, see her married off, and then escape.

“Sarah,” she said at last, pulling away from the window, “you and I both know that my prospects are slim to none. I am five-and-twenty, and it is not as though I am a prize.”

“Good,” their father grumbled. “It appears you have learned something after all.”

“That does not mean you cannot try,” Sarah replied, ignoring the comment. “You may surprise yourself!”

Sarah would only have such enthusiasm until the moment they stepped out of the carriage. Emma reminded herself of this in the hopes that the following half an hour might be a little more bearable.

It was strange how timid Sarah was when in front of others. She was a very pretty girl. She should have had far more confidence in herself than she did, and yet the moment eyes were on her she withdrew into herself.

Emma tried not to judge her too harshly for that. After all, even as a spinster she could not scoff at her own looks (though she did). It wasn’t that she was not pretty, for as far as the aristocratic standard went she was quite acceptable, but she hated her reflection. She was not blessed with her mother’s green eyes as Sarah had been. They were hazel, and she hated them entirely.

“In any case,” Emma said gently, “I am not attending this party for myself. I am doing so for your sake.”

“Everything you do is for my sake.”

“And for good reason! You know, I heard that there will be a few dukes in attendance. You may surprise yourself, as you say.”

“Sister, the party is to be hosted by a duke.”

Emma blinked. She was not made aware of who they were to be staying with, and she was quite surprised that their father had told Sarah, even more so that her sister had kept such knowledge from her.

“If a duke is hosting, then that is even better. You may find during your introductions that you fall for him at once, and then this shall all be settled. Which duke was it, again?”

“You will never find a match for your sister if you are this stupid,” her father sighed. “I do not know why you don’t simply take my offer of a friend of mine being her husband.”

“We have a deal, Father. I have until she turns one-and-twenty. That leaves a year and a half until you can call upon a friend.”

She did not often stand up to her father, but on that occasion she hadn’t felt like she had much of a choice. He had been furious with her for turning three-and-twenty and still turning suitors away, and it was a deal that she had to make to stop him from ridding himself of both of them.

It was beneficial to him, too, of course, for it meant he would not have to lift a finger. Emma would do everything, and he would simply pay for whatever was necessary. He did so withoutcomplaint, which was one of very few things that Emma was grateful to him for.

“Then you have less than a year and a half,” her father said, “to learn all of the eligible dukes’ names. The one hosting, for example. Sarah, do you remember it?”

“Yes, Father. It is the Duke of Pridefield.”

Their father smiled triumphantly, as if proving his point that Emma was an imbecile, but Emma did not notice. Instead, her blood ran cold. She knew of the man, and of his equally dangerous friend.

“The Duke of Pridefield,” she whispered. “I am indeed aware of him, Sarah, and he is not the sort of man you will be associating with. You will not speak to him, am I clear?”

“I must at least make an introduction. He is the host, after all.”

“I will allow that, but from then on you shall avoid him at all costs.”

“Why?” Sarah asked, and as Emma did not think her father would explain it to her, she took matters into her own hands.

“He is a scoundrel, as is his friend. One does not receive the moniker of ‘Ruiner of Reputations’ without reason, after all. In any case, you will do well to avoid the both of them.”

“You will not tell your sister what to do,” their father said coldly. “You might think that you know better than I do, but as is always the case you are wrong. Should the Duke of Pridefield express an interest in your sister, then the match is settled, no matter what deal we once had.”

“But he is a rake, Father. He is known for his scandalous reputation, which I would wager is why you did not tell me that it was his estate we would be visiting. Sarah deserves far better than that.”

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