Page 12 of His Duchess' Mischief

“You might!” Jane said earnestly. “At the very least, you will be secure. Many women do not have that luxury, and it is a small blessing, perhaps—but it is a blessing, nonetheless.”

Alicia knew her sister was right; she should be grateful for small mercies. But as she stared down at the beautiful gown around her feet, she struggled to draw in a full breath.

Rising, she walked to the fireplace and then to the door, leaning against it, her hands at her back as she glared at the beautiful sunshine beyond the window.

She wished that it was pouring rain to match her mood, that the sky was a black mess of clouds that would drench her on the walk to the chapel.

The wedding would take place on the grounds of the Duke’s estate, only a stone’s throw from the room where she stood, and it felt as if the walls were closing in on her.

I am already trapped in his dukedom, never to be free again.

“What if the rumors are true?” she asked. “What if the Dukeisa murderer and was responsible for the death of his friend? What then? Do you think Papa would have promised me to a man who had done such a thing?”

She laughed derisively, pushing away from the door.

“If our father were a normal man, with less greed in his heart, I would even believe that telling him of the Duke’s past would guarantee the marriage did not take place. But Papa simply would not believe it.”

She leaped back in alarm as the door to the room jerked open, and her breath hitched at the sight of the Duke standing in the gap, his arms open wide, his gaze fixed on her with a rage that made her blood pound in her ears.

There was a sharp, ominous silence, and then the Duke’s hunched shoulders relaxed slightly as his gaze turned to Jane.

“Lady Riverton, I would beg your pardon, but I will speak with my betrothed.”

His words were like granite, the suppressed anger in his voice sending a tremor through Alicia’s body. She reached back blindly for her sister’s hand, seeking reassurance.

“Surely, there is nothing you need to speak with her about that her sister cannot hear, Your Grace?” Jane attempted.

But Alicia knew he would not allow her to stay.

“There are many things that must remain private between man and wife. I would ask you to leave us, please.”

“We are not man and wife yet,” Alicia snapped.

The Duke said nothing in reply, merely holding the door open for her sister to leave the room.

Alicia held onto Jane’s hand for as long as possible, but her sister gave her an apologetic look before letting go and walking out of the room.

The Duke closed the door behind them, and then they were alone.

Alicia straightened, determined to stand her ground.

“So, you have been listening to gossip about me,” the Duke said icily, walking toward her.

He stopped a foot away but still towered above her, huge and threatening.

Alicia’s irritation spiked, unable to prevent her eyes from running over his tall figure, the outline of his arms beneath his tight coat, and the flat expanse of his stomach.

I am not supposed to notice this man. He is meant to be as insignificant to me as I am to him.

“Do tell me what you have heard,” he said. “I am very eager to hear it.”

Alicia swallowed, taking a step back, and she gasped as he matched it, not allowing her to retreat from him. His shoulders seemed impossibly wide, broad, and thick, his jaw tense.

She looked around fearfully, wondering if Jane had remained within earshot and if her sister would hear her scream.

“I heard you were on trial,” she admitted finally, her voice thin in the quiet room.

“For?”

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