Page 1 of A Virgin for the Duke of Depravity
PROLOGUE
From the Office of Her Majesty, the Queen,
The Crown of Great Britain expresses its sincerest gratitude and appreciation for four distinguished members of Society. As such, Her Majesty, the Queen, has conferred upon these four Dukes of the Realm equally excellent young ladies of outstanding reputation, lineage, and bearing, in marriage, and bestows upon each one a dowry of no less than £20,000, in addition to that which may be provided by their families.
Her Majesty, the Queen, expresses her sincerest congratulations and her highest hopes for these matches, with every expectation that the whole of the Kingdom may celebrate in the joy of these unions and continue to honor our heroes, who have given their lives for our country.
CHAPTER 1
The estate loomed in front of her, each window illuminated, but few showing signs of movement. Margaret felt compelled to stare at the place where her mother had grown up, a place far nicer than the convent she herself had been sent to. The stone walls towered, and she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets the estate held.
What would life have been like if I had grown up here with the Earl?
Her mother had told her of the times he had locked her in her chambers, sending servants with meager rations of bread and clean water for days on end when he was displeased—and hearing her tell it, he wasalwaysdispleased.
Tentatively, Margaret took a few steps toward the stone pillars with the statuettes on the corners. Her stomach lurched with nervous anticipation, not sure what would happen if she got any closer. She took one more heavy step closer to the front door, but stopped at the threshold.
Margaret reached out as if to run her fingers over the face of the statue closest to her. The stone was smooth and cool beneath her fingertips.
The fog rolling in from the London streets made it hard to see what awaited her if she kept going. Squinting into the distance, she tried to discern whether she could safely look and edge just a little closer.
She hadn’t intended to come here when she left the convent to visit her best friend, Theresa, in London. But it was as if her feet had brought her here of their own accord. She asked for directions from her friend, who gave them to her with a furrowed brow but no questions asked.
Still, she had come to this estate against her better judgment. She was now on the threshold, ready to walk up the path to the front door. Turning back was the smarter option, she knew, especially when the front door flew open.
“Why are you outside my home?”
She had expected that a servant would notice her and inquire whether she was here to visit the Earl. She could have easily feigned being lost in the unfamiliar city. But it was not a servant who greeted her at the door.
She’d come too close, dared too much, and now she had lethimsee her.
Margaret had been too bold in coming close to the estate. And now, it was time to escape. Her heart pounded in her chest, sending a rush of blood to her limbs that compelled her to run away. She hiked up her skirts and spun back toward the statues, toward the city.
Her feet moved of their own accord, picking up speed as she ran away from the old man.
“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? You look exactly like her! You can run, but you’ll soon do your duty to me!” the Earl shouted after her, his voice echoing in the empty air.
Margaret swallowed the words in her throat. Her mind whirred to life, wanting to turn around and tell him that she would never give him what he wanted. The words gathered on the tip of her tongue, urging her to open her mouth and spit them out.
A bigger part of her won out, though. The part that wanted to put as much distance between her and the Earl as she could.
She picked up the pace and made it to the corner. Frantically, she rounded the corner, her mind already trying to figure out how to make it back to her friend’s estate without allowing the old man any nearer.
If only I had time to check my map.
She fumbled with the parchment in her hands, head bowed over the paper as she ran. She made a sharp turn onto the next street when she almost collided with a coach.
“My apologies,” she mumbled, still trying to make sense of the map.
With no crest, she did not think she needed to curtsy to whoever was in front of her. She only looked up when the coach halted, and the driver kept staring at her.
“Are you going to the book club, My Lady?”
“The…?”
“You know, thebook club.” The driver looked at her pointedly, his eyebrows raised.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if it were an inside joke. Margaret wondered if he was laughingather orwithher.
