Page 1 of A Duke's Sinful Bargain
Chapter 1
“Edmund, you are my brother! How could you do this to me?”
The outraged voice of Lady Anna Ravenscroft echoed throughout the opulence of her brother’s London residence.
The grandeur of the house, adorned with ornate furnishings and gilded accents, stood as a silent witness to the unfolding drama, which had started as a seemingly benign afternoon tea and a heart-to-heart conversation. However, the reality that awaited her was far from the warmth she sought in her moment of despair.
The forceful grip of the manservant’s hands on her upper arm only seemed to solidify the fact that she was no longer welcome there. Her own mother’s meek pleading reverberated somewhere behind the servant’s mountainous body, which served as an unyielding gatekeeper to her brother’s domain, and with it, her own salvation.
She felt like an intruder in her own family, an unwanted trespasser who was to be rid of as soon as possible.
Anna was too stunned to fight the man, too stunned to do anything but allow herself to be led out of the front door and pushed into the yard, her shame bared to everyone in broad daylight. But that didn’t matter. Her brother’s betrayal hurt more than the echoes of rumors ever could.
Anna turned around to face the manservant. Behind him, her mother, Lady Hilda Trentworth, trailed behind with a countenance marked by concern. Lady Hilda’s attempts to intercede were met with a dismissive wave from the butler, whose loyalty to the household hierarchy was unwavering.
“Edmund…” Lady Hilda spoke when Edmund, adorned in the trappings of aristocratic authority, appeared from behind his manservant. In light of the recent developments, his piercing gray eyes had taken on an even more authoritative and stern look, and the air of superiority he had always carried himself with oozed out of every pore of his being.
“Please, think about this…” their mother urged, her fingers clasped around his elbow, which he hastily jerked away from her touch.
“There is nothing to think about, Mother.” Edmund’s stern voice cut through the sadness and frustration etched on the woman’s face. “Everyone is responsible for the consequences of their own transgressions.”
“But these are not Anna’s!” Lady Hilda exclaimed, her attempts to soften the familial rift falling on deaf ears. Anna appreciated her mother’s efforts, but nothing would soften Edmund’s heart of stone.
“That doesn’t matter.” Edmund shook his head decisively. “She chose her late husband, and with that, his mistakes have become hers.”
Edmund locked his gaze with Anna’s. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she feared she might succumb to tears if she spoke a single word more. She couldn’t believe her ears.
Was it truly so that her own brother had chosen to turn his back on her, at a moment when she needed him the most? She felt as if someone had stuck a dagger into her heart and was now twisting it to cause even more pain.
“You are not to return here again seeking financial assistance. Goodbye,” Edmund said, upon closing the door, refusing to hear another word on either side.
A blaze of indignation fueled Anna’s spirit as the grand door of her brother’s residence closed upon her. Refusing to succumb to an onslaught of tears, she clenched her teeth together, trying to remain quiet, but it was impossible.
“You are a poor excuse of a brother!” she shouted. “Family comes to you in their most dire moment and you willingly choose not to help! You have always been a cold man, Edmund Trentworth, but I never thought you could turn your back on your own family! For shame!” She kept hurtling angry retorts at the imposing façade, her words echoing through the yard.
It took her a few moments to finally accept a crushing truth. The bonds of family now severed, she retreated with a steely resolve, her slight limp a testament to the challenges she had faced. Summoning her waiting carriage with a determined air, Anna climbed aboard and issued crisp instructions to the coachman.
The carriage immediately set forth through the bustling streets of London, its destination clear—Lady Pentor’s residence, where an exclusive gathering was scheduled for the evening.
As Anna’s carriage rolled through the dimly lit streets of London, she found herself enveloped in heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic clip-clop of horses’ hooves against the cobblestone road. Inside the carriage, the flickering glow of the lanterns cast fleeting shadows.
As she gazed out of the window, Anna’s thoughts were consumed by the precarious state of her financial affairs. The weight of her late husband’s mistakes bore down upon her shoulders like an oppressive burden.
Lord Arthur Ravenscroft, in life, had proven to be a man of imprudent decisions, his penchant for gambling and ill-advised business ventures leaving behind a legacy of staggering debts that were now hanging over Anna’s head like the sword of Damocles.
It had been over one year and one day, a stated rule of mourning designated for a widow, but for Anna, it felt like an entire lifetime since she had laid her husband’s remains into the ground, leaving her own peace of mind to rest with him. A marriage that had lasted not even two years, almost stealing her precious youth, was a poor exchange for the utter desolateness of life that was looming over her future.
With each passing moment, Anna contemplated the coldness that defined her relationship with her brother. He had always been a man of inherent greed and unkindness, but she had naively believed that those two traits existed beyond the confines of their family. Now, she had come to realize how wrong she truly was. Whether someone was family or not, he was equally unwilling to lend a hand.
He had become utterly indifferent to their bond of siblinghood, believing that once she was married, it was her husband’s responsibility to provide for her. She had believed that as well, but it was not her fault that she had become a widow. Rather, it was fate. And with the revelation of her late husband’s financial misfortunes, the fragile semblance of familial duty had been completely shattered.
She hadn’t expected that when she had come to him for aid that morning. He didn’t even know how embarrassing it was for her to ask for assistance, how utterly ashamed she had felt that such life conditions had befallen her. But she expected that if anyone would understand her, if anyone would help her, it would be her own family.
But Edmund, wrapped in his callous demeanor, had summarily rejected Anna’s plea for assistance. The warmth she sought in their kinship was met with an icy resolve to distance himself from her troubles, as if they were nothing—not family, not friends, not even acquaintances. It seemed the brother she’d hoped would offer solace was, in fact, a source of added distress.
As the carriage continued its journey through the city, Anna’s mood mirrored the somber reality that awaited her. The stark contrast between the opulence of London’s high society and her own impending financial ruin weighed heavily on her heart.
However, in her reflection on the carriage window, Anna found resilience mingled with a determination to navigate the tumultuous path that lay ahead, as she hoped the solution to her woes would come to her during Lady Pentor’s evening gala.
