Page 3 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
“Stop!” Edwina gasped. “Fine, fine. Please, just… do not humiliate my brother.”
Lord Stockton’s eyes glinted. “And what will I get if I do not do that?”
“In exchange, I will give you whatever you desire to repay his debts. I have jewels and dresses. Furniture—we have plenty of expensive pieces you can take. Ornaments, trinkets, heirlooms. Whatever gets my brother out of your debt, it shall be yours.”
“Edwina.” Nicholas sounded pained, but she could not bring herself to look back at him, feeling angry, heartbroken, and empathetic all at once. “Do not?—”
“You,” Lord Stockton drawled, leaning towards Edwina, making her stomach churn, “are much cleverer than your brother.”
His leering eyes ran up and down her body, a smile curving onto his face in a manner that made her feel the urge to bathe.
“I have another use for you, Lady Edwina. There is a duke. The Duke of Stormhold, to be exact. He is a wealthy man with powerful connections. I wish to do business with him. But he is a mysterious man, stubborn. Hard to approach, and even harder to request a meeting with. He is rather selfish in this regard.”
Dread coiled in Edwina’s stomach as she began to put the pieces together.
Lord Stockton grinned widely, as though he knew she understood him. “Seduce His Grace, secure me a spot in his inner circle that I could use to my advantage, and I shall write off some of your brother’s debt.Some of it, Lady Edwina, for I have an inkling that you do not know the full extent of his troubles.”
At that, Edwina shuddered, knowing that it was bad enough from what she had heard so far. If her brother’s troubles were worse than they already were… if the states she had seen him in were any indication… She dreaded to think harder.
“And you,” Lord Stockton snapped at Nicholas. “I hope you can sleep well at night, knowing that your habits have caused your sister to help me out in such ways. Lady Edwina, I shall come to fetch you tomorrow night. If you wish to keep this pretty, falselyperfect life, then I suggest you be ready, and do not try anything funny.”
His old, beady eyes pinned her in place, and she nodded.
“I will be ready,” she affirmed, relieved that her voice remained steady.
Lord Stockton gave a jerky nod before he left with his men, leaving the manor into the darkness of the night.
He gave her one last look at the gate—a warning to follow his orders.
Chapter Two
“Can I get you anything else, Your Grace?”
Lucien Fitzgerald, the Duke of Stormhold, looked up at the waitress who had seductively leaned against the arm of the chair opposite him.
He looked away, bored. She did not sit, did not leave, but hovered in the most annoying of ways.
“No.”
“Are you certain? I am sure I can?—”
“No.”
His growled response finally sent her scurrying after her persistence over the last hour.
She had kept invading his space—a private alcove at the back of the Raven’s Den, a gambling hell—and he was rather tired of her not-so-subtle attempts at seduction.
He had not come to the Raven’s Den for entertainment—he would not have left his townhouse at all if business had not dragged him out of his study—but for a meeting with a certain, thieving lord.
From his place at the back of the main hall, Lucien simply watched, biding his time. The lord knew he was there. That was all part of business, of course—letting those who knew they were in trouble stew in nervous anticipation.
Throughout the evening, more eyes swiveled towards him, his presence alone commanding attention. But no nobleman approached him without cause.
Lord Herrington, a young, pretentious man who had inherited a barony far too soon to manage his affairs, had his elbows braced on the backs of the seats next to him, only one of them empty. He took up space as if he owned it, and his whole demeanor reeked of arrogant affluence.
I would, too, if I thought I was getting away with swindling a duke out of his money and thought I could hide away in a gambling hell.
Lucien’s eyes tracked Lord Herrington’s hands as he tossed down his deck of cards.
